#malcolm bio

[toughpaperround]

Malcolm-Jamal Warner

Malcolm-Jamal is to appear in the later episodes of season 7 of 911 (ABC) as a character named Amir Casey, a nurse. [Deadline article - he was originally named as Brad, now Amir.]

Best known of course as Theo Huxtable, the role he played for the 8 years of 'The Cosby Show', beginning when he was 14. He used his school picture as his headshot. Even before that he was in 'Fame'.

In addition to directing and theatre work, being a poet and a bass player, he is also known for more recent TV roles across ABC/Fox such as 'Accused', 'Ten Days in the Valley' and 6 seasons as AJ in 'The Resident'. He has appeared in several other TV series and films including 'American Horror Story', 'Fools Gold'.

Along with many other celebs (including Lou Ferrigno) he appeared in Michael Jackson's music video for 'Liberian Girl'.

He loaned his voice as The Producer for 'The Magic School Bus' among many other voice acting roles. His spoken word poetry 'Hiding in Plain View' [youtube recording] was nominated for a Grammy in 2023.

[IMDb] [other 911 cast bios]

[ndostairlyrium]

so I was talking with @greypetrel a few weeks ago and she straight up told me that Tom Selleck would be quite the fit for Kerry's Malcolm Hawke. Which is very wrong and correct at the same time :'

A couple of angelic choirs later (aka. I completely forgot until now), I'm fulfilling this omen fantasy

[funnyscienceman]

waited all this fckin time for dragon lantern zeri and then she doesnt even have new VO q-q

at least her model actually looks good, as opposed to that splashart..

[pallases]

this book has led me down a rabbit hole of searching whether birds can get rabies

[bcmuscd]

malcolm wheeler | bio

name: malcolm leon wheeler nicknames: mal, face claim: ian bohen pronouns: he/him age: 47 dob: november 6 orientation: pansexual occupation: rancher personality (+): hard worker, personality (-): blurb:

pinterest | verses | interactions | open starters | head canons | ships

[schlock-luster-video]

On February 18, 1993 Malcolm X debuted in Norway.

Here's a new portrait of Denzel Washington!

[megamindsecretlair]

Let Me Hold You

Pairing: Tyrone x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, virginity loss, shy reader, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink if you squint, Soft Tyrone, all consensual. Mentions of religion, God, and Christian-leaning faith. Sorry if I miss any!

Summary: Ask: ...the reader is a virgin church girl, who, finds herself entangled in a predicament when her parents forbid her to be with the charismatic Tyrone. Despite this, the reader has a genuine friendship with him. They have crushes on each other but do not know how to tell each other.

Word Count: 5,803

A/N: Welp. This healed and broke some things in me! LOL. This was a wonderful ask from @notapradagurl7. I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out, I felt so bad. I hope this was worth the wait. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

“And we don’t want you hanging out with that - that boy!” Your father paced the living room floor, his loafers kicking up the delicate fibers. 

“What?” You shrieked. Already, fear spiked into your heart. The thought of not seeing Tyrone? It was inconceivable. You looked toward your mother who perched on the end of the plump chair, proper as you please. She kept her eyes on your father. You wouldn’t get any help from her.

“I’m an adult, you can’t ban me from seeing my friends,” you protested. Did he really think he was serious? 

“It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with someone like him. If you’re to entertain anyone, there are plenty of nice young men at the church.” 

“Malcolm just returned from college to be an engineer. I always knew that boy was smart,” your mother chirped in. 

Your eyes darted between your parents. You half expected aliens to burst from their necks. These people were foreign to you. Unique in their united anger for Tyrone, a boy you’ve known your entire life. 

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” you quoted. Your mother scoffed and glared at you as if you said you wanted to shake your ass for Satan’s minions. Your father stopped his pacing and gawked at you. Like you were the foreign one. A daughter he didn’t recognize. 

“No daughter of mine will hang around someone like that boy. Peddling that poison to people in this community,” your father said. 

“That boy has been nothing but nice to us. A boy you watched grow up. A boy you assume is doing dirt,” you countered. What episode of the Twilight Zone was this? 

“I have eyes,” your father said. “And I see what’s going on. All the people running in and out of his house, his mother’s house I might add, and bumping that music…”

“I still live at home. Are you going to judge me for that too?” You asked. Your father pressed his lips together. 

“It’s different for women,” your mother said as if it were a fact. 

You tuned your parents out as they tried to tell you the difference between young men and young women. You didn’t have the heart to listen anymore. Your blood roared in your ears and you stared off into space, trying to calm down. 

You stood up suddenly. You needed to be anywhere but here. Looking into their judgemental faces. You made one mistake. Funny how they didn’t take into consideration all of the times you were a “good girl”. How you minded your Ps and Qs your entire life. Never did anything bad. Never wanted to do anything bad.

And now, they wanted to effectively place you under house arrest. Only leaving for school or church. This was not the stone ages. You couldn’t sit here under this oppressive weight. Constantly holding yourself to a higher standard. 

What higher standard? Did God really think that oppressing women was the ticket into Heaven? Placing all of these restrictions was the ultimate symbol of propriety? What happened to love thy neighbor? 

Your parents called after you, but you kept moving. You’d never defied them. You always deferred to them. They had experiences you didn’t and just wanted you to have a good life. Bullshit. They wanted a little doll to dress up and tote around town. 

At the door, you slipped into your flats and left the house. No purse, no phone, no keys. It felt…invigorating. That type of freedom was intoxicating. Your parents’ indignant shouts followed you out of the house but they didn’t come to the door. 

You took that opportunity to head down the block towards Tyrone’s house. You hoped he was home. You hadn’t had a chance to check your phone before your parents ambushed you.

His house looked dark for once. There were no cars bunched up in front of the house or thumping music coming from the front door. You ran up the steps and knocked on the metal door.

The cold air caught up to you, edging past the heat of your anger. It could only warm you up so far. There were no sounds coming from the house so you knocked again. It was still earlyish but you didn’t want to be loud and disrespect his mom. 

“Yeah,” Tyrone called out sleepily. You suppressed a smile. Just hearing his voice instantly calmed you down.

You heard a series of locks and bolts being undone. Tyrone swung the door open. He called out your name and looked behind you. 

“What’s up? We were s’posed to meet?” He asked.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Always,” he said. He moved out of the way and let you enter his darkened house. You took in the space and got a chilling sense of loneliness here. You didn’t know why. Tyrone closed the door and locked it.

“I was sleep. Come on,” he said. He took your hand and led you to his room. Inside, the sudden light gave you a tiny ache in your eyes and you rubbed them. Tyrone sat on his bed, leaning one leg up onto the mattress. 

You remained standing, suddenly shy. You hated feeling unsettled wherever you went. Even in the company of your friends, you paid attention to everything you said. Were you being weird? Were you not talking enough? It was all incredibly awkward whenever you tried to join the conversation and people had already moved on to the next topic. 

“What’s up?” Tyrone asked.

You sighed and recounted everything that happened with your parents. You paced his small but comfy room, poking at random objects on his desk or hanging on his wall. He had wrinkled Lakers posters torn in one corner. You picked at it as you spoke, not wanting to look him in the face while you spoke and ranted and raved about your judgy, overbearing parents. 

Tyrone was a great listener. He never interrupted you, he kept his comments to a minimum, and when you were brave enough to look at him, he’d nod for you to continue. So you did. You told him everything, even the part about your parents judging him for his side hustle. 

“They don’t want you to see me anymore because of that?” He asked. 

You nodded and sat on the bed next to him. “I told them they’re nuts. They can’t ban me from seeing you, I’m not sixteen,” you said.

“You were pretty cute when you were sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up! I’m trying to be serious here!” You pushed his shoulder. He moved as if you were strong, but you knew that he let you. Tyrone had always been an immovable force. He moved through life like it owed him money and he was coming to collect. He had a surety about himself that kept you up all night thinking of him. 

Your hand lingered on his bare arms, taking in his large biceps. His navy tank top hung just so, highlighting his broad smooth chest. He wore his signature black basketball shorts and you quickly removed your hand. You should not be having these thoughts about your best friend. 

“I’m serious too!” He said and chuckled. He quickly sobered up and glanced at you. “I’d miss you if I couldn’t see you.” 

You smiled slowly. “You’d only miss the chips I bring you,” you said. 

“Naw, I’d miss you. I’d have to stage a breakout or something,” he said. 

You laughed, picturing hopping into Tyrone’s getaway car just to drive a few houses down. Bonnie and Clyde ya’ll were not. 

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “There’s nothing that can keep us apart,” you said. You stuck out your pinkie finger. Tyrone looked at it and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips. 

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, so you know I’m serious,” you said. You pushed your hand into his chest to urge him to do it with you. He shook his head again and wrapped his pinkie around yours. 

“So what you gonna do since they dropped the hammer?” Tyrone asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. You tucked your legs under you, holding down your dress so no one got a free show. You played with the hem. “I wish they’d see me as an individual instead of an extension of their dead hopes and dreams.” 

“I feel that. You’re just gonna have to prove that you grown now,” he said with a shrug. 

“There’s nothing I can do. They’ll only see me as a goody two shoes who’s always ready with a smile. Like, I don’t have feelings or something? I’d have to rob a bank or have…” You trailed off as the intrusive thought came to you. 

You became very interested in your dress as you played with the rolled hem. “Have what?” Tyrone prompted.

You hummed and shrugged. “Lost my train of thought. Point is, I’m tired of living and dying by their own expectations,” you said. 

The thought didn’t leave you though. In fact, the more you turned it around in your head, the hotter it got in the room. Your imagination ran away from you, providing images of a naked Tyrone standing over you. Bending you over. Calling you dirty names. You shifted on the bed as the images became a little too vibrant.

You usually indulged in your fantasies late at night, safe and comfortable in your head where no one would know except you. It was harmless to be as nasty as you wanted, getting yourself worked up and needy but ultimately not doing anything about it. Could you imagine trying to order a sex toy and have it sent to the house? Trying to hide the buzz buzz as you got yourself off? It was either the towel on the pillow or your own fingers but once you felt awkward, it was hard to get back into the mood. 

“So don’t live by their expectations. What do you wanna do?” He asked. 

You glanced at him. He treated it as seriously as possible and that only made your heart melt. He was the bestest friend you could have hoped for, growing up together. But would you always be someone he grew up with? Forced to talk about his conquests over and over and wishing it were you? 

You licked your lips and faced him. You sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. Your heart thundered in your chest. You felt the steady beat all over, thumping in your arms and in your head. Now or never. 

“What would you say to a crazy idea?” You asked. 

Tyrone shifted to allow you more room on the bed. “What kind of crazy idea?” He asked slowly. 

You smiled at the mistrust in his voice. You were kind of known for some out of pocket schemes. It was not your fault that Mrs. Edwards came home early that one time. How were you supposed to know? 

You lost a bit of your nerve, looking down at your fingers. You gripped your dress hard, your fingers pressing the thin fabric. “What would you say if I asked you to take my virginity?” 

You risked a glance at him. He was frozen solid, gaping at you. After a moment, he blew out a breath. “Wait, what?” 

“I am tired of doing what people expect of me. Nothing is ever good enough and I never get anything out of the deal. I want something for myself. I want to have sex. I want to have sex with you,” you said. 

He tilted his head so you forged on, explaining why you wanted to have sex. “And I know it might be a little weird considering we’re friends but I’m pretty sure you’re not seeing someone right now? Right? Because I’d rather it be with someone I trust, at least the first time…” You rambled. You were rambling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. You heard the words. You said the words. But you couldn’t find a way to disconnect your brain from your mouth. “And you’re totally free to say no. Like, we can totally forget I asked.” 

After you crawled into a cave or yeeted yourself off of a cliff, surely you could be around Tyrone and not think of this stupid situation. 

You opened your mouth to ramble more because he was just sitting there, but he captured your lips with his. His hands cupped your jaw and pulled you into it, moving your lips against his. Your hands gripped his, but not to push him away. You held him there and kissed him back. Tyrone ran the tip of his tongue to trace around your lips. You gasped and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“Wait, what?” You asked. Your head was pleasantly fuzzy. Like you were full of fluffy clouds. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Every time I see you. You got kissable lips,” he said. He made his point by kissing you again, humming low in his throat. He pulled away and ran his thumb across your lips. Each pass of his lips on yours or his calloused fingers on you only made your head fuzzier. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say? Especially after ninth grade!” There was once upon a time where you two had danced at the high school you attended. You had found a dark-ish corner away from the chaperones and told Tyrone that you’d never been kissed. He had laid one on you, probably not well now that you thought about it, but it had been so precious to you. He ended it by saying, “Now you have”, and walked away. 

The memory was always bittersweet. But hell, it was still your first kiss. 

“I was a dumb ass kid. I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you more than a friend,” he said. 

Warmth spread from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. This lonely torch you’d been holding for Tyrone wasn’t one sided. You looked into his molten brown eyes and smiled, not knowing how to properly process this new information.

In fact, it blew you away that you were here at this moment. Who knew your holier-than-thou parents were good for something? 

“And now?” You asked.

Tyrone removed his hands from your face and you missed them instantly. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling it across his lap so that you could cup him. You gasped at the sheer size of him. Despite common myths, you have seen a dick before. But you’d never touched one. Held one. Sucked on one. 

Your mouth went dry at the thought. You wanted to suck him, but what if you were bad at it? Your lip rolled in between your teeth and you bit down, wondering the mechanics of it all. 

“Well, you did ask me for something huge. Are you sure?” He asked. His voice held a strange, raspy quality to it. You flicked your eyes back to him and he was breathing a little faster. Oh shit, he really did like you. How the hell did you miss it? 

“I’m very sure,” you said. You pressed your hand in more, stroking him over his basketball shorts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened them and grinned at you. 

“I’ll do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or if you want to stop, okay?” 

You nodded. “I promise. I’m a big girl, I can use my words,” you said. Your hands still moved over him and you must’ve been doing something right because his breaths left him in quick bursts. He rubbed his face and gripped his jaw, eyes tightly shut. 

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stilled your hand on him and moved it off. “Okay, okay. Virgin. Have you done anything? Gotten eaten out?” He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I just snuck them up to my room while my dad was busy in the kitchen,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, smart ass. Give me a minute. I’m like…I don’t wanna just jump on you even though I want to,” he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, jumping in place. 

You giggled. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one,” you said. And you were! Your nerves were shot. Your hands trembled thinking of what the hell you were about to get into. You had fantasized it so many times, wondering who it would be. Sometimes wishing it were Tyrone. And while you didn’t think it would be all glitzy like they do in the movies, you did think you’d be married. Or at least in a steady relationship.

As you looked at Tyrone though, you were glad it was with someone you were comfortable with. Someone who took your usual anxiety from 100% to about 65%. 

Tyrone smirked. “If you knew the thoughts I be having about you…you might run out that door,” he said. “I’m trying to do this right.” 

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t treat me like some glass doll,” you said. You titled your head and stared him down. “You forgetting I know all your nasty little secrets?” 

Tyrone chuckled and squeezed your hand. “Shut up. That’s different. I ain’t care about them, but I do care about you. Don’t ever treat this shit as casual,” he said. 

You sucked your teeth. “Not you too. I promise, I’m not going around opening my legs for any man that wants it,” you said. You were about to go on a tirade about how it was your body and your rules. Tyrone shut you up with another kiss, tugging on your bottom lip. 

“The thought of anyone else in between your legs makes me angry,” he whispered against your lips.

“Angry?” 

He nodded and continued to kiss you, sliding his hands up and down your arms. His warm, big hands chased away any lingering chill from outside. He slowly knelt so that he wasn’t bending at an awkward angle. 

His knees sank to the floor and he nestled himself in between your thighs. His hands continued to travel down, squeezing your hips, your outer thighs. Your hands held on to his shoulders, kneading and massaging his back. He moaned into your mouth and a delicious tingle went up your spine. 

“Mhm, so don’t say that shit no more,” he said. 

“You can’t expect…”

His hands crept closer to your pussy and you ended your sentence on a squeak. Heat rose up your neck and cheek. “Relax,” he said. You took a few deep breaths, nodding, but you were as stiff as a board. Tyrone stopped moving his hand and kept it on your thigh.

“You gotta relax. And let me do this for you,” he said. His thumb pressed into your thigh and your body caved in. He somehow zeroed in on a knot and his thumb worked it out. “Oh fuck,” you said. 

“Mhm, you’ll feel better in a minute. But you gotta relax for me,” he said.

Sure, as if you could snap your fingers and relax. Wouldn’t you know it, anxiety was a light switch you could flick on and off at your leisure. Tyrone must’ve seen your thoughts play across your face, because he chuckled. 

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how sexy you are?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. The question caught you off guard. You knew you were gorgeous, you knew you were working with some thick thighs and a pretty tummy. But sexy? Somehow, you missed the memo about sex appeal. You swore that guys could see “virgin” stamped across your forehead.

“Mhm. Whenever you walk out the house in one of these dresses, I just keep picturing how you look underneath. If that pussy nice and pink and wet.” His voice went deeper, harsher, bringing with it dark, carnal promises.

Your thighs tingled. Your hands shook. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning like a ho. Tyrone kissed your jaw, then moved up to your ear. “You nice and wet for me? You want me to play with it right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, play with it,” you said.

Tyrone moved his hand up. Your thighs were burning hot from where they rested against each other. Tyrone nudged you to open your legs. He hummed while he kissed along your ear. “I wonder if you taste as good you feel.”

You dropped your head against him. “You can’t be saying shit like that,” you said.

“Look at you, with your little potty mouth,” he said.

“Shut up, Tyrone!” 

He only laughed and finally, blessedly, reached your core. He played with the edges of your panties, seeing the way you squirmed and moaned. He slipped his finger past the material and cursed under his breath.

“Damn, all of that for me? How you gon’ run home to Daddy with panties this soaked?” Tyrone asked.

You stuttered out a response. How were you supposed to form a coherent sentence when his fingers were on you? His fingers glided in between your slick folds, pushing past your pussy lips, and tracing the outside of your clit.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your mouth dropped in a tiny little ‘o’ and Tyrone’s eyes narrowed as he took in your expression. He kissed you once, too quickly for your taste, and smirked at you.

“You gotta stop being so damn cute,” he said. “Makes me want to do all kinds of nasty shit to you.” 

You moaned, picturing those disgusting things. His thumb rubbed over your clit and you scrunched up your face in pleasure. 

How was it that this felt infinitely different and better than when you did it to yourself? He knew exactly what to do, taking cues from your moans and grunts and pretty gasps. You sent up a prayer, thankful that this was with someone experienced. Then again, God probably wasn’t listening right about now.

Tyrone traced slow circles on your clit. You looked through your lashes at his smug face. He knew he was driving you wild. You hissed and jerked when he got to a particularly sensitive spot. “Shh, shh, breathe,” he said. 

He held your gaze as you took in deep breaths. Your belly flipped and tightened, the beginning stirrings of something naughty making its way to the surface. Your gaze traveled down. Tyrone’s hand was completely under your dress. It was somehow hotter that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You moaned.

“Mhm, pray to him for mercy. Because you ain’t gettin’ that shit from me,” Tyrone’s raspy voice was like its own arrow of desire. Your thighs shook. Your feet dangled over the side of the bed. Your toes curled. 

“Tyrone, please,” you said. You gripped his shoulders. His smooth brown skin shone with its own light. 

“Let me take these panties off,” Tyrone said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said. 

Tyrone stopped rubbing your clit. “No,” you growled. What the hell was he doing? You were so close! Your belly still felt tight, overripe like at any moment you would burst. 

Tyrone chuckled and lifted your dress. The fabric drew across your thighs like scorching fire. You hissed. You were on a precipice and any movement would hurt or hinder. You didn’t want to find out which. 

Tyrone pushed your dress up to your hips. Then, he grabbed the top of your panties and moved it down. He held you as you lifted up and slipped them off your ass. He smiled. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he said.  

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Remember to breathe for me.”

He kept your gaze as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward until your ass was half hanging off of the bed. You cried out and he kissed your thighs until you calmed down.

Your heart beat in your pussy. The throb throb throb drove you mad. You were needy. You needed something more, anything more. 

Tyrone blew a breath across your wet pussy and you cried out, jerking your hips. Tyrone only locked his arms around you, curling his biceps around your thigh. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from your pussy to your clit and back down again. A choppy moan left you. Your back bowed off of the bed. Your hands gripped the front of your dress. It wasn’t enough to hold so you moved your hands down to grip the bunched up hem. 

He ran his nose through your folds. He inhaled. “Smell so fuckin’ good, got damn,” he said. “Pretty ass pussy.”

He then drew his tongue in a slow circle around your clit. Locked as you were, he didn’t leave room for movement. You barely wiggled. Squirmed underneath his sinful tongue. With each new circle, he moved in closer. He tongued you closer to your clit and you whined and moaned and cried.

Your belly tightened once more. A cresting inferno built and built, radiating waves of heat throughout your body. 

Somehow, this too was more potent coming from him. Your body jerked out of your control, twitching every which way, as he created magic around your clit. He slurped up your juices. Slurped it loudly and greedily. He tongued it all down, getting his juicy lips wet with your essence.

You spoke in tongues, muttering and chirping. Tyrone’s tongue moved downwards, rimming your entrance and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Tyrone, Tyrone,” you moaned. Your hands flexed. You searched for Tyrone’s head, his neat cornrows were going to get messed up tonight. You palmed him anyway, pushing his head into your pussy and started to gyrate on his mouth. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he encouraged. “That’s my good girl.”

You came with a loud yell. You could barely breathe. The sounds and words were dragged out of you. A hidden instinct buried in your DNA to say something, to help ride this awe-inducing wave. A flood of pleasure moved through you. 

Tyrone held you down through it all. His biceps flexed with your movements back and forth. He still ate you out, flicking his tongue around your nub. 

“F-f-f-.” Fuck it, you couldn’t say it. 

You flopped onto the bed, spent. You moaned as you twitched and calmed down. Tyrone leaned up. You looked at him. His face was slick across his jaw. A spit chain drooped. He licked his big lips and moaned.

“Ready for this dick?” He asked.

You sniffled and nodded. “Please. Please, I'm so ready,” said.

“You don't’ need a break?” He asked.

“Hell naw. Please,” you said. 

He nodded and placed a wet kiss on your thigh. He cleaned off his face on his tank top. He stood up. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position. You put your chin on his stomach and looked up at him. 

He sighed and rolled his neck. “What I tell you about lookin’ so cute?” He asked. 

“I can’t help being cute,” you said. 

“Lyin’ ass. Yes, you can,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ion know. Burp or something,” he said.

You giggled and hugged him around his middle. You grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. 

“You really have no idea,” he whispered. You grinned. 

He stepped back and pulled off his shorts. His dick bobbed twice, standing at attention. He was definitely thick and long and perfect. Your shyness tried to budge back in. Your heartbeat sped up thinking of that getting inside of you. 

He twisted and leaned over. You admired his body as his muscles bunched. He was solid, stocky. A thick man with amazing thighs and ass. Cool air blew across your pussy and you bit your lip. Fuck. 

He grabbed a condom. Watching him was its own brand of sensual torture. His fingers moved deftly to open the package. He rolled on the condom, pulling the latex over the length of him. He pinched the top. 

He stalked closer, running his eyes over you. “Let me take this dress off,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. He helped you pull it off. Your bra went next. “You’re so damn sexy,” he said. 

He palmed your breasts, rubbing and pushing them together. He leaned down and brought your nipples into his mouth. He moved between your boobs, suckling and placing that warm mouth around the peaks. 

Your legs jerked up. You wrapped them around his waist. His shirt got trapped beneath your legs. He pulled it out and the shirt draped across his chest. His dick brushed against you and you cried out. He was so close to giving you what you needed. Your nails dug into his sides. He ignored you. He played with your nipples until you were a bumbling, squirming mess. 

“T-T-Tyrone,” your teeth chattered.

“Mhm, I know. Ready for me?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Sure?” He asked. He rubbed his dick through your arousal. You soaked him instantly. There was so much on you. The cool air hit across it on your skin. You knew exactly how much of a mess you made. It made you hornier. How did you go through life without this? Without this feeling?

Without this obsession running in your veins. This deep-seated need. This lustful shot of adrenaline threatening to burn your skin off. 

Tyrone’s hand wrapped around your hip. His other hand guided his dick towards your entrance. He pushed in and you gasped. He slipped in thanks to how wet you were. But fuck! He filled you completely. 

“Breathe,” he commanded. He stopped and moved his shirt out of the way. “You gotta breathe.”

You nodded. He helped you take deep breaths. “That’s right. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get dick,” he cooed. 

That should piss you off. But you wanted to be a good girl for him. You wanted to listen and get praised some more. 

Your breathing evened out. Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. As he kissed you, he pushed in. Your hand flew to his chest, pushing at him. Fuck. It kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt? You could tolerate him pushing in. You clenched around him and he hissed. 

He sank inch by inch into you. He cursed the whole time. “Fuck, feel too good. Feel too good,” he muttered. “Gripping the shit out of me.”

The praise made you moan and you clenched around him. A drop of his sweat fell onto your chest. Your own sweat slick skin pebbled in the cool air. 

Tyrone moved out and then pushed back in. The slide in would hurt briefly but then morph into pleasure as you felt him move inside of you. He was deep, stretching you out. Molding your pussy to the curve of his dick. 

He began to speed up. He flipped his shirt up and held it in his mouth. He moaned. “Can still smell you,” he said, though his voice was muffled. 

Both hands held onto your waist. He moaned as he sank deeper, you welcoming him better. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yuh,” you nodded. 

“Sure?” 

“Yu-uh,” you moaned. He was doing nothing more vigorous than moving back and forth, but he felt amazing. He filled you up. He hit that deep seat of emptiness inside of you. A place you hadn’t been able to get to on your own.

The feeling brought tears to your eyes. He twisted and brought you down on his dick a little faster. “Ohmygod,” you cried. He reached a spot that made you explode all over him. 

You cursed the heavens, you cursed hell. You cursed the world in between. You felt large. Humongous. You felt like you could grab the world with both hands. Power and pleasure suffused you. You moaned out loud, heedless of anyone who could hear. 

“Oh fuck, so tight,” Tyrone hips jerked. His fingers dug into your hips. The pressure made you moan. He jerked and thrusted one more time, going as far as he was able, and you felt him pulse inside of you.

You imagined him filling you up with his cum. You moaned as the thought made your pussy throb. Tyrone twitched and panted on top of you. He left you slowly, sliding out in a way that wouldn’t hurt you.

You missed him immediately. He wiped his sweat on his shirt and took off the condom. He tied it and threw it in a nearby trashcan. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You flopped onto the bed. Looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Were there words to describe how okay you were? How fantastic you felt? “So good,” you murmured. 

And you did feel really good. You expected to feel shame after having sex. You’d avoided it for so long, you started to feel like a freak for still being a virgin at your big age. But you didn’t. You were mostly sore. You were going to feel this in the morning and right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Tyrone left for a moment and you just focused on your breathing. On trying to recapture that euphoric feeling of that orgasm. Chasing after it like the wayward string of a balloon. 

He returned and placed a warm cloth against your pussy. You hissed at the unexpected sensation. He cooed at you while he cleaned you up. You smiled at him. “You didn’t have to,” you said.

“Yeah, I did. I was raised to clean up after myself,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He left once more, getting rid of the washcloth. He took off his shirt and hopped into bed with you, pulling you chest to chest. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said. You bumped his nose. 

“How you really feelin’?” He asked.

“Honestly? I feel really good. Sore, but tired.” 

“Would you want to do it again?” He asked.

“Hell yes! Are you kidding? There’s so much I want to try,” you said.

Tyrone laughed, shaking his head. He pecked you on the lips. He moaned and then pressed in for longer, licking your bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth. 

“Mm, does that mean I can get back in that pretty pussy?” He asked.

You caressed his cheek. Running your thumb across his supple skin. “That’s exactly what that means.”

&&&

Psst, there's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[cawthorntales]

Malcolm: Are we rolling sir?

Producer: Yes we are Mr. Landgrabb.

Malcom: Wonderful. Hello everyone my name is Malcom Landgrabb. I'm thirty years old and a resident of Oasis Spring. I'm the heir to a vast fortune left to me by my parents after their tragic pass. I enjoy working out, painting, cats, knitting.

Red is my favorite color and I love rain. I'm looking for a man who will love me and not what I can do for him. I can be a bit stubborn especially when I know what I want. But my motto is why settle for less than the best? Why am I looking for love on a tv show? Well I figure this will put me out there to more men than just the small pond of Oasis Springs.

I look forward to meeting you all. Hopefully one of you could be my soulmate.

~

Info

You can send in a spare from your game. Or a failed bc contestant. Or you can make a guy from scratch.

Must have a bio and photo.

I have werewolves, cats and dogs, cottage living and romance garden or whatever it is called.

cc is fine.

males only.

This is info about Malcom. Your contestant will not know any of this. He is putting on an act for the bc. I am putting this info here solely for your benefit so if you win you will know the type of story this will be and the true Malcolm.

Malcom after becoming corrupted and infused with magic went on to use his powers and skills to build a criminal empire. He has his hands in various criminal activities. To the public he puts on a facade of a kind generous wealthy man. But the true Malcolm is as cold and cunning as they come.

He doesn't tolerate repeat failure and although he won't get his hands dirty. He has plenty of lackeys to do his bidding. Including his right hand second in command the once by the book good officer Kyle. Who was corrupted by Malcolm twelve years ago.

Malcom despite being an evil corrupt power hungry man. Still does honestly want someone to love and kid/s to call his own(seems it wasn't just Emily's essence that survived her world's destruction. Seems a bit of Logan was there too).

Deadline September 20th

~

Slots

@akitasimblr

2) @invisiblequeen received

3) @glitchedsins

4) @simstagramsomeone received

5) @riverofjazzsims received

[withasideofshakespeare]

Woah no way?? People (completely unprompted /s) want to hear my trans Shakespeare headcanons?? You bet I can do that.

I’ve done this once before:

But I have even more thoughts now!!

In no particular order:

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): Every single pronoun possible. He/she/they/it + all of the neopronouns and xenopronouns that exist currently or will ever exist. Fairy gender is always weird but Puck’s is extra weird.

Oberon (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): Fairy gender. Probably he/they/it?

Titania (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): More fairy gender. She/they/it?

Titania’s fairy attendants (Midsummer): Get a hat and fill it with various pronouns and draw them out at random for the fairies.

Benedick (Much Ado About Nothing): Could go either way, but I really like the idea of transfemme Benedick. Or he/him lesbian Benedick.

Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing): The she/they to end all she/theys

Viola/Cesario (Twelfth Night): Could be trans in literally any direction. I made a post about this too at some point. My suggestion is all of the directions: they/she/he

Sebastian (Twelfth Night): He/him, transmasc. I also made a post about this at some point.

Feste (Twelfth Night): I saw a great she/her Feste last summer.

Orsino (Twelfth Night): Specifically the himbo variety of he/they

Margaret of Anjou (Henry VI trilogy and Richard III): If I ever play Margaret, I will use she/they pronouns.

Catesby (Richard III): Just played Catesby with she/her pronouns and it worked!

Richard II (Richard II): Tell me Richard isn’t the most they/he or he/they guy alive (or… dead).

Hal (1 Henry IV-Henry V): Saw Hal played with she/they pronouns last summer and it was great. Could also see he/they Hal. Very nonbinary vibe overall. I personally believe that going by Hal rather than Henry for two whole plays is their way of pulling the “going by the first letter of what my name used to be instead of picking a name from scratch” nonbinary trick. He probably pretends to be cis after his dad dies and he becomes king—one more element of Hal’s lifelong identity crisis.

Hotspur/Harry Percy Jr. (Richard II & 1 Henry IV): He/they in denial.

Kate Percy (1 & 2 Henry IV): She/they, not in denial. (Also Katespur should be bi4bi)

Ned Poins (1 & 2 Henry IV): Transmasc Ned Poins?? Maybe he doesn’t actually have a sister and Nell is just his deadname. Ned Poins’ failed scheme to flirt with Hal.

Romeo (Romeo & Juliet): he/they (t4t R&J!!!)

Juliet (Romeo & Juliet): she/they (t4t R&J!!!)

Mercutio (Romeo & Juliet): they/he(/it?). Vibes alone. Look at them. Just look.

Nurse (Romeo & Juliet): she/her, transfemme!

Cassius (Julius Caesar): Would love to see a they/them Cassius

Hamlet (Hamlet): he/they. I’ve made multiple posts about this theory and I still love it.

Ophelia (Hamlet): she/they. As she should.

Laertes (Hamlet): she/him and NOT just because Laertes used she/her pronouns the first time I saw this play.

Rosencrantz (Hamlet): he/they/she. Vibes. Sometimes goes by Ros/Rose. Probably genderfluid.

Malcolm (Macbeth): they/he or they/them. Also vibes.

Lady Macbeth (Macbeth): stolen straight from my last post because this is still my HC: she/they; would insult you for “having pronouns in your bio” and then turn around and punch you in the face for using their pronouns incorrectly.

Angus (Macbeth): she/her, transfemme. (t4t Ross/Angus. I will die on this hill… Dunsinane Hill.)

Ross (Macbeth): he/him, transmasc

Caithness (Macbeth): she/they lesbian

Mark Antony (Julius Caesar and Antony & Cleopatra): I would not bat an eye at he/they Mark Antony

Edmund (King Lear): they/he, nonbinary, sexiest man (/gn) alive.

Edgar (King Lear): he/him. Transmasc Edgar is slowly becoming canon To Me.

Cordelia (King Lear): she/her, transfemme.

Goneril (King Lear): she/they. I would let them kill me.

Coriolanus (Coriolanus): transmasc OR transfemme Coriolanus is!!!! The butterfly/metamorphosis motif! Name changes during canon! Discomfort with scars/body! Lack of autonomy granted by society! This is THE transgender play. (Other than Twelfth Night)

Imogen (Cymbeline): Tell me she doesn’t want to be a she/they so bad.

Florizel (The Winter’s Tale): he/they(/she?). Literally just a vibe. I have a pet rock named Florizel.

Perdita (The Winter’s Tale): she/they. I also have a pet rock named Perdita.

Ariel (The Tempest): Similar to Puck, probably they/she/he? Even my conservative English prof consistently rotates between she/her and he/him for Ariel (possibly not intentionally? I’m not convinced he knows what her canon pronouns are.)

Ferdinand (The Tempest): she/they. PLEASE give me transfemme Ferdinand. PLEASE let Miranda realize she’s a lesbian during canon.

Miranda (The Tempest): she/they. Ariel taught them about the existence of she/they pronouns and she immediately started using them.

So in other words… every Shakespeare character should be trans, actually.

[pamsimmerstories]

Wolfgang and Aurora went to Tartosa to another trip together

previous || next

[wolfgang]: do you know them?

[aurora]: no. but avery said there was a mistake when booking the rental and this couple booked the same day as us and apparently they are avery’s aunt’s parents

[summer]: i know her! omg!

[j]: you do?

[aurora]: why are they looking like that at us? avery said they were nice people... i don’t like to be stare at

[summer]: do you remember me?

[aurora]: sorry. i don’t think i do

[summer]: i don’t remember your name, but i remember you as a patient. you had gestational diabetes and you came to me... you were so young!

[wolfgang]: i think i remember now

[aurora]: i’m sorry!! i didn’t recognized you

[summer]: it’s okay! i just remember you because of something you said back then

[aurora]: oh boy! i hope i didn’t say anything rude or weird. i tend to do that.

[summer]: don’t worry! just about my daughter. she’s not my bio daughter, but you said she looked like me and we were trying to have a baby and i was having trouble. so i kept your words in my mind for a long time. but don’t worry! we had three babies after!

[aurora]: oh! okay! i’m glad everything ended up well. and i’m sorry i said that

[aurora]: sooo, we’re sharing the rental, huh?! nice! i’m glad that you’re the one we’re sharing. avery, my son in law told you were nice...

[summer]: yes. when his father died i called his mother, my daughter, well, you know... she was malcolm’s sister. and cassandra treated her very well when she ran away from home when she found out... i talked to her... anyway, she must’ve talked to him about us

[summer]: i’m oversharing! i’m sorry...

[aurora]: it’s okay! do you want to see the triplets? i actually had another daughter after them... she’s the one married to the owner of this rental

[summer]: oh! i’d love to see pictures of them!

[aurora]: look at them! here it’s when they were born... oh! they were such  cute babies! and this is them now

[summer]: the girls look like you and the boy is a copy of your husband

[aurora]: and this is freya, my youngest.

[summer]: omg! she’s gorgeous! wait! i think she’s winter’s friend. she posted a photo on simstagram with her! what a small world!

[aurora]: indeed! well, i was worried about who was going to share the rental with us. i’m glad it’s you!

[summer]: me too! i’m happy that we met again. i’m happy you’re healthy and your babies are adults now!

[aurora]: wolfgang and i were going to the beach. do you and your husband want to join us?

[summer]: absolutely! i’d love that

[changingplumbob]

Layla has a job writing clickbait articles. She’s brainstorming what her first top ten list should be when Malcolm comes in and hands her the envelope.

Layla: Your entrance results?

Malcolm: Hopefully. Can you open it baby?

Layla: Sure

Malcolm: Don’t forget to check for the scholarship results

Layla: Well which one do you want to hear first?

Malcolm: I suppose if I got in to the bio degree

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Wanted to draw something for SNOWMAS

And everyone around me is having babies and the babies are very cute so I wanted to Simon and Baz as babies with their dads

Baby Baz is babbling away at Malcolm and baby Simon thinks being held like a floppy football is a fun game that this weird adult that hangs around his mom sometimes plays with him 😅*

*taking a page out of MRB and making it so Davy is still Simon's bio dad but I imagine he and Lucy mutually agreed she'd have full custody

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 19 May 1925, El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, better known as Malcolm X, was born in Omaha, Nebraska. The son of a supporter of Marcus Garvey and local leader of the Universal Negro Improvement Association, he would become one of the most influential advocates of equal rights as well as one of the harshest critics of white supremacy in the United States before his assassination in 1965. In particular his advocacy of self defence for Black people shocked the establishment: "Every time you pick up your newspaper, you see that I'm advocating violence. I have never advocated any violence. I've only said that Black people who are the victims of organised violence perpetrated upon us, we should defend ourselves… So, we only mean vigorous action in self-defence and that vigorous action we feel we're justified in initiating by any means necessary. The press call us racist and people who are 'violent in reverse.'… They make you think that if you try to stop the Klan from lynching you, you're practising 'violence in reverse.'" Originally a member of the Nation of Islam, El-Shabazz later left the group and founded the secular Organization of Afro-American Unity. He increasingly came to reject capitalism as inherently linked to racism, declaring in 1964: "You can't have capitalism without racism." Just three days before his murder he delivered a speech stating: "We are living in an era of revolution, and the revolt of the American Negro is part of the rebellion against the oppression and colonialism which has characterised this era… it is incorrect to classify the revolt of the Negro as simply a racial conflict of Black against white, or as a purely American problem. Rather, we are today seeing a global rebellion of the oppressed against the oppressor, the exploited against the exploiter." More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/9128/malcolm-x-born To access this hyperlink, click our link in bio then click this photo https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=628907575949128&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

I've never seen anyone talk about this (mostly because nobody plays these games really) but do you guys remember Dudley Landgraab?

His wiki page says he appeared in two (possibly three) games throughout the early years of the franchise: The Sims (Console), The Sims: Bustin' Out (Console), and possibly the Urbz: Sims in the City (Console). He's the son of Malcom Landgraab, and usually appears alongside his sister, Mimi. But he's a genuinely interesting little freak???

I haven't played the original Sims, but according to the wiki, it seems like he's an early game NPC who's characterized as a slacker and a party animal. He's a member of the Landgraab family but doesn't seem to have much contact with them.

In Bustin' Out, he's the first house available to move into when you start the game (the other option being his sister's place). He seems to be a straight up criminal in this one, possibly working in the burglar career (you can't check in game so we don't know for sure, but the schedules seem to coincide according to the wiki). His ex-stepmother (your mom) hates him. It's referenced in his bio that his dad cut him off. He's living in a shitty bachelor pad trailer. Not crazy out of pocket considering the other places in that game.

In the Urbz, there's a much more interesting development, though. In Kicktail Park, the local hangout for a bunch of weird skaters, there's a guy named String Bean. Nothing particularly interesting about him on the surface, but in his profile on the Urbz website he seems to be incredibly secretive and weird about his past/identity. Under his dislikes, one of the things he hates is being called Dudley.

That means there's a decent chance that they're the same guy. He got tired of living in a trailer and being a family disappointment, so I guess he went off to the city to reinvent himself.

I love the weird tidbits of lore that you'd never know unless you scrolled through defunct websites and wiki pages made by people who are way too invested in these games.

Sources:

[kenjirose]

Just ranted sm lore to my coworker Malcolm, about my bio mom and how she’s tried to kill me in the past and then college and my mental health and more and bro jsut went “yk ur so cool you have crazy lore tell me another story”

[hero-israel]

Hi, just wanted to chip in my 2 cents re the current South Africa v Israel case - Prof Malcolm Shaw is probably one of the two greatest experts around today on public international law. He wrote one of the two major texts on the subject. I don’t know specifically his expertise wrt genocide cases, but he’s probably THEEE guy you want on your side.* So, probably a smart choice on Israel’s part to instruct him!

* I’m just looking over his professional bio at Essex Court Chambers and it makes for interesting reading. Giving me some ideas about where I could do my own law masters, actually. He’s done a whole bunch of stuff obviously, but he appears to have particular experience re issues of state immunity, which might give an indication of the likely thrust of Israel’s defence. Or they might just be intending to instruct someone else as well wrt the specific Genocide Convention aspects - or he might just do it all. He’s extremely knowledgeable, clearly.

Let's hope so. The whole thing is a set-up and looks like nothing more than a restaged 12th century disputation.

On Oct. 8th, we should have had a President of the United States willing to immediately freeze all Qatari funds held in U.S. banks until the Hamas leaders were deported to stand trial. Not The Hague, thank you, I prefer Nuremberg.