anbiviat
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Dennis's words climb back up. "You just… you assume things, you make decisions, you act like you know what's best for everyone—"
Robby's gaze is fixed on him. Dennis's broad shoulders are coiled tight; there’s an angry, pink flush creeping up his neck; his long fingers keep clenching into fists and unclenching at his sides.
"—and you don't even see how fucking condescending that is, how it makes me feel like I'm— like I'm not even a person to you, just some project—"
Robby watches Dennis unwravel under the weak spill of the streetlight filtering in through the window, his curls flashing copper and gold, his voice hoarse and furious and he knows he should calm him down, shout back, beg for forgiveness.
But he can't.
He's never seen anything more beautiful.or: robby comes back from his sabbatical to find dennis whitaker absolutely furious with him. this is, unexpectedly, not the worst thing that's ever happened to him
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Whitaker has had enough of being manhandled by his old pervert of an attending.
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So it was nice to text with a man, even if it was anonymous. Anonymity had been the stipulation from the start. (As well as: "Actual words. No Gen Z speak.") Dennis went by DJ. Childhood nickname, no one here knew that. The professor went by M. Dennis liked to call him professor. It was flattering to think he got the attention of someone successful and important.
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Dennis turned to look at him, “Is that how you know? Because you - you-”
Robby met his gaze and laughed, warm, his brown doe eyes shining like mischief and dread. “I eat it real good, sweetheart. You should know by the way I kiss you.”
Dennis blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His mind snapped back to the core of his thoughts: desperate and needy. His breathing stuttered, uneven, and he knew his scent was pouring out, carnal and fiery, because Robby’s nostrils flared in response. Dennis thought, how the hell did we even get here? Ah, right. Wetting the beard. Never have I ever. Top ten reasons why he wanted to ride his alpha’s face into next Saturday. Right.
mono·mania
[ˌmɒnə(ʊ)ˈmeɪniə]
exaggerated or obsessive enthusiasm for or preoccupation with one thing.Bookmarked by anbiviat
05 May 2026
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“What do you like to do when you get high?” Jack asks.
Dennis shrugs. “Normal stuff, I guess. TV, music.”
“You like to jerk off?”
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Cannabis delivery guy Dennis brings an order up the street to the hot DILFs' house. Stoner Hucklerabbot smut.