#if u guys have any fun prompts feel free to send them!

[augustinewrites]

alright since i’m obsessed with writing blue lock now:

[httpiastri]

first of all CONGRATS ON 3K!! 💗😫 I've loved your Pepe work and I'm so checking out your other works 😭💗

saw the 3k celly and I couldn't resist myself 👉👈

how do we feel about a small Pepe blurb with the touch starved prompt: "one just casually sitting down on the other's lap and they start internally freaking the hell out" ??

furthermore,, could it be the reader being the one that is touch starved and Pepe just casually grabs em and sits them on his lap and is the reader the one freaking out?? 🤭

🍈 – send me a driver and a prompt from this list of hugging prompts, these touch starved prompts, or these kiss prompts, and i will write a short blurb for you!!

author's note: thank you so much!! and im glad you like them aaa 🥺 i loved this idea !!!! but lol i thought a blurb was 500 words, not 100-200. still doesnt explain why this is 1.2k. 😶 i had time over on my flight so this (and the paul "blurb" ive got scheduled for later) was the result. hope u enjoy :)

3k celly !!

(college!)pepe marti x reader

there are a lot of fun ways to spend a free saturday evening.

but being squeezed into a room with a bunch of drunk students, with music so loud you can barely think? not one of them.

you had been about to refuse your friend's suggestion to tag along, as you always do, before she had uttered the magic words. pepe will be there.

you were already planning outfits in your mind when the words left her mouth, suddenly feeling like no piece of clothing you own is enough to impress him. how could any piece of clothing ever be good enough for someone like him?

disappointment, though no surprise, fills you when your friend leaves you the second you enter the apartment of some guy in her physics class, to search for that other guy she's been crushing on for weeks now. so, here you are, in the living room belonging to some student you don't know, being pushed around by students you also don't know, with some song that you've never heard blasting from the speakers.

thankfully, even in a crowded apartment like this one, it isn't hard to find pepe. the sound of his sweet, intoxicating laughter can be heard from miles away.

he's sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, red solo cup in one hand and phone in the other. he's showing something on his phone to his best friend christian who's sitting next to him, his giggles sending a wave of relief through your body.

pepe's eyes light up when they meet yours, a sliver of surprise in his smile as you make your way over to him. he says your name like it's what he was made to do, like no other words have ever fallen from his lips. "i almost didn't believe your friend when she told me you'd join her tonight," he tells you. "i'm surprised."

"i'm full of surprises," you answer, tilting your head to the side slightly.

"of course you are. like that dress, very surprising." that statement isn't very surprising in itself; your friend, ever the fashionista, noticed your stress over your choice of outfit for the night instantly, lending you one of her favorite dresses with the words you'll look adorable, he won't be able to stay away. but the fact that pepe has noticed you enough to at least in some way collect an idea of the types of clothes you would and wouldn't wear is surprising to send a shiver down your spine. "you look great."

you can't control the redness that threatens to spread across your cheeks at that, but your gaze shifts to the ground to at least lessen some of your flusteredness. pepe doesn't miss the gentle smile that makes its way onto your lips, though. christian understands this as his cue to leave, jumping out of his seat and bolting away in just a second. pepe taps the now free spot on the couch, and you slip down next to him without another thought.

"did you get to the kitchen already?" he asks, gaze burning into the side of your face as you pretend like fixing the hem of your dress is something you actually need to do and not just a way to occupy yourself. "or do you want me to go get you something to drink?"

you shake your head, eyes flickering over to him again. "i'm alright for now, but thank you."

he nods over his cup, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. the action has the muscles of his arm contracting and… has he always been this muscular, or is it just the light of the apartment? either way, he makes it look so casual – he probably doesn't know he's the object of your current mental assessment – as if the feeling of his jeans against your bare knee isn't distracting enough. "i'm glad you came," he says after he's lowered the cup. "the party was bound to be boring without you."

there it is again; that relief you felt earlier. a sliver of a confirmation that this thing that's been going on between you two these last few weeks isn't just one-sided. unless he's just toying with you, as you've heard certain men like to do, which doesn't exactly help soothe your worries.

but pepe isn't like that, you have to remind yourself. that's one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place; he's gentle in a way you can't credit a lot of men to being, like a mild breeze instead of a full-blown storm.

someone turns the music up even more, something you would've assumed was impossible a minute ago, as if to say you're thinking too much. fewer thoughts, please.

you take a deep breath, eyes meeting his. "i'm glad you're here, too."

"what?"

you let out a short laugh at the way his face contorts as he tries to hear what you're saying over the loud music. "i said," you start, voice growing louder. "i'm glad you're here, too."

pepe nods, though you're not sure if he actually understood or if he's just faking it, before saying something you have no chance of catching. you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head slightly and jokingly bringing a hand up to the back of your ear to hear him better. you did not expect him to lean forward, nor the warm huff of air that meets your ear when he speaks into it. "it's a little too loud, isn't it?"

you nod when he leans back to look at you, the corners of your lips tugging upward at the sight of his own smile. you shrug, trying to figure out a way to solve the issue; you came here to talk to him, not to just sit next to him all quietly because you can't hear each other. you gaze around the apartment, only to find a pair of speakers placed in about every corner of it, which brings back that disappointing feeling from when your friend left you just minutes ago.

but pepe has other plans. before you can interject, his hands find your hips and lift you up to straddle his thighs sideways. it's a swift motion, and he makes it seem like you weigh about five grams, leaving you pretty completely speechless. "i figured we'd hear each other better like this," he says, one hand reaching over to grab his cup again from where he must've placed it on a table nearby just moments ago, while his other hand stays planted on your hip. when you don't say anything, his eyes rake over your face, a hint of guilt in his expression. "sorry, is this okay?"

you take a deep breath, pushing the butterflies in your stomach away for just a moment and gathering the courage to nod. "yeah," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "i just… wasn't expecting that."

the chuckle he lets out vibrates through your body, too. "well, get used to it." that damn smile of his appears again, the one you just can't stop yourself from mimicking. "i like having you close."

as his hand slips past your hip and around your waist, you allow yourself to lean into him a little, impressed by the way you find yourself enjoying your new seat very much.

impressed by the way it feels like this seat was made just for you.

[autistic-katara]

finally making an intro post after months of using this acc 💕

(will probably have to go back and edit this a bunch // i have no idea how to make one of these)

hi, my name’s Ryan, my pronouns r he/him and i’m a Scottish, autistic, Jewish, chronically ill, bisexual trans guy

my account is multifandom (with some non-fandom stuff aswell) but is mostly a Stranger Things/Byler acc

i’m a fanfic writer who exclusively posts on ao3 (my acc is Raines_Adopted_Son), feel free to send me fic requests/prompts any time (tho theres no guarantee i’ll actually write them // will make a post later detailing what i will/won’t write later and link it here)

while i am not 100% an anti (i’ll explain that if needed) if i find out ur a proshipper i will block u MY VIEWS ON THIS HAVE CHANGED BUT I CBA TO REMAKE THIS POST RN SO JUST IGNORE THIS SECTION

feel free to send asks/anons/dms anytime i find it fun to interact with u mfs

@/moots u guys can literally show up to my house if u want literally anything goes for use except deadnaming/misgendering me (or other stuff like that)

don’t rlly wanna have a DNI list here cause idk it feels kinda icky but there r some ppl i seriously do not wanna interact with so terfs/radfems in general please block me on site thanks :) (also soft dni for h*rry p*tter fans if u post abt it and don’t follow me i will probably block u but if u follow me i don’t wanna be a bitch abt it so i just won’t follow u back)

that’s all i can think of for now i probably missed smthn super important but yk // if u have any questions or anything feel free to ask c:

[wri0thesley]

[image id: starry sky background with ‘j0succ’s 5(555) follow event over the top of it]

hello everyone!!! i am so so happy that you have all followed me and read my writing and just in general being lovely to me, so i wanted to have an event to both celebrate my milestone and for my birthday (that’s june third, if u guys wanted to idk send me pictures of my husbands that day!). this event will probably stay open until then (although if i get too overwhelmed i might close it early!). i will warn you all when it’s about to close and reblog this post periodically! <3

this event is a mix and match style event with prompts to choose from, and is open for the following fandoms:

- jojo’s bizarre adventure - jujutsu kaisen - my hero academia

please refer to my rules before requesting! (also linked in my profile and pinned post! please also refer to the rules of the event, below the cut!

EVENT STATUS: closed!

[image id: starry sky background with ‘rules’ over the top of it]

As mentioned above, this is a ‘mix and match’ event! First, choose a character: you may choose two characters in a poly relationship, if you want! If your idea features more than one character not in a poly relationship, please make that clear in the request! Then, choose some options from the four categories!

The four categories are

- Base. This is basically an AU category; you do not have to pick one, but if you don’t the fic will be set in the canon universe as detailed! You may also pick your own if the one you would like isn’t listed! If you choose something from this category, you can only choose one. 

- Sweet Add-On. This is the SFW plot category! Again, you can only pick one from this category; if you choose something from the Spicy category as well, it will become Fluffy NSFW - if you choose just something from this category, or something from this category and the base category, you will receive just fluff! This category cannot be combined with the Dark Add-On. 

- Spicy Add-On. This is the kink category! You can pick as many from this category as you would like, but try and keep in mind how they might work with each other and your other choices! There is also an option for adding in your own kinks if I haven’t mentioned what you’d like; please keep my rules in mind! This category can be combined with any of the other categories. 

- Dark Add-On. This is the Dark Content category. You can pick as many from this category as you like, and an option is included if your dark idea is not on the list! This category cannot be combined with the Sweet Add-On. 

if this all sounds a little complicated, you can scroll down to the bottom of this post to see some examples of what not to do and what to do! I have numbered all of the prompts for my convenience, but you can use their number or their name to refer to them, I don’t mind!

my default for writing is an afab, gender neutral reader (or occasionally an afab fem reader); if you would like something different, please include it in the request, but also keep in mind that i don’t have much experience writing amab readers and may not be good at it!

[image id: starry sky background with ‘menu (prompts to choose from) written over the top of it]

Base (Choose one, or choose none – if none are chosen, fics will be written in the canon universe as standard!):

1. No AU / Canon Universe 2. No Powers Universe 3. Arranged Marriage AU 4. Monsters AU 5. A/B/O (Alpha, Beta, Omega) AU 6. Historical AU 7. Royalty AU 8. College/University AU 9. Soulmate AU 10. Apocalypse AU 11. Vampires AU 12. Crime/Organised Crime/Mafia AU 13. Sugar Daddy/Mommy AU 14. Coffee Shop/Bakery AU 15. Florist/Tattoo Artist (Two Opposing Occupation) AU 16. Fake Dating AU 17. Fantasy AU 18. Amnesia AU 19. Angels, Devils and Priests AU 20. Sex Work AU 21. Pick One Not On The List!:

Sweet (SFW) Add-On (choose one or none):

22. First Kiss 23. First Date 24. Cuddles 25. There Was Only One Bed 26. Mutual Pining 27. Huddling For Warmth 28. Taking Care of Each Other 29. Spending A Holiday Together 30. Meeting The ‘Family’ 31. Engagement & Weddings 32. Fake Dating 33. Domesticity 34. Enemies to Lovers 35. Friends to Lovers 36. Trapped Together 37. Comfort 38. Beach Trip 39. Confessions 40. Pregnancy

Spicy (NSFW) Add-On (choose as many as you want!)

41. BDSM 42. Impact Play 43. Pegging 44. Breeding 45. Dacryphilia (crying) 46. Corruption Kink 47. Face-sitting 48. Cunnilingus 49. Somnophilia 50. Size Kink/ Size Difference 51. Edging 52. Orgasm Control 53. Dominant Reader 54. Virginity (please specify whether virgin character or virgin reader!) 55. Masturbation (Mutual, Assisted or Guilty) 56. Choking and Breathplay 57. Petplay 58. Vanilla 59. Cockwarming 60. Sex Toys 61. Public Sex / Exhibitionism 62. Praise Kink 63. Degradation 64. Over-stimulation 65. Aphrodisiac or Sex Pollen 66. Corsetry 67. Voyeurism 68. Pregnant Sex 69. Bondage 70. Choose Something Not On The List!:

Dark Add-On (choose as many as you want):

71. Yandere 72. Non-Con 73. Mindbreak 74. Dub-Con 75. Master/Pet 76. Knifeplay 77. Gunplay 78. Predator/Prey 79. Dumbification / Dollification / Bimbofication 80. Fuck or Die 81.Choose Something Not On The List!:

[image id: a starry sky background with ‘examples’ written over it].

GOOD EXAMPLES:

- hi nat, could i get a fic of prosciutto in an arranged marriage au, maybe with orgasm control and a virgin reader? 

- hi!!! maybe a fic for gojo with 59, 63, 71 and 72?

- hello! could i maybe request a florist/tattoo au (15) with confessions (39) and some cunnilingus? with geto, please!

BAD EXAMPLES:

- fic with itadori (i don’t write characters who havent been shown as over eighteen in canon!) with first kiss and yandere (one is from the sweet add-on and one is from the dark add-on, please don’t mix them!)

you can see the current request list (in case you want to check if yours made it through, for ideas, etc) here!

[image id: a starry sky background with ‘thank you all so much! please have fun requesting! written over it.]

I don’t want to gush too much on this post but I am so, so grateful to every one of you who has ever interacted with me, reblogged my posts, recommended me or otherwise - thanks to the Jojo followers who’ve been here since the beginning, my new JJK followers, and my even newer BNHA followers (I haven’t written much for it yet but I hope that this event will help with that!). Having this space makes me so happy!

I hope you all have fun requesting, and feel free to send me questions if you want or need clarification on anything! I’m super excited to get started!

[skellebonez]

Hear me out: Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU with prompts 14 and 35?

I hear you and oh this was way too much fun... I took a great deal of liberty with exactly how Mac transforms into his Spider Monkie form and who says what and the TIMELINE because I... re-wrote this into a ship fic because of you. I call it ShadowCodingShipping because someone had to name MacaqueSyntax eventually! I guess you could say this is definitely a what-if story more than anything.

Warning for body horror because Mac is slowly turning half spider and that's kinda gross and painful. Also this is hurt/comfort but heavy on the HURT. This does not have a happy ending.

Am I scaring you?/I believe I can be of some help here.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a smirk, pain clearly barely held at bay behind it. The monkey demon was a mess, fur tussled and miscolored splotches that hadn't yet grown in properly littered his torso. His torso that had gained a good inch in the last failed attempt at... what they were trying to accomplish. "... are you going to answer me, scientist?"

Syntax did not answer. Whether it was out of fear or knowing that regardless his answer would not make the demon leave him be even he didn't know.

"Queenie calls you Syntax," Macaque continued, moving around the computer to watch him over the screen. "That can't be your name, can it? I didn't give enough of a shit to ask before now. Hey. Hey. Hey. H-"

"No, it is not my birth name," the scientist snapped eventually, watching as Macaque smirked in victory. "Only a complete fool would agree to work with someone as infamous as the Spider Queen and use their legal name as if they were sending an unencrypted message containing confidential information across basic messaging applications without a VPN. What in the world are you trying to accomplish?"

"Ooooo, wordy," Macaque chuckled out as he leaned against the monitor and made it tilt at an awkward angle. "I'm. Bored. Entertain me, scientist, you're the most interesting person in this place. believe it or not."

Syntax raised a brow at the demon, sighing as he continued to type into the computer. "Do you want this to be finished any time soon? Because the more you bother me the longer it will take. I may be able to multitask but humans have limits."

Macaque scowled for a moment before shrugging, failing at hiding a grimace of pain. It must have made the new bones in his spine ache horribly. But he moved easily past Syntax without a word, only whipping his tail against his shoulder as he left.

It didn't hurt at all... he wondered what the point of the gesture even was.

~

The screaming rang through the entire hideout, Syntax's ears ringing even as he covered them. They'd tried twice more in their attempts at Macaque's twisted idea, Spider Queen slowly seeming to become less and less comfortable with not only their methods but with what they were even doing. It was working, sort of, but not correctly.

The changes were supposed to be immediate, so fast that the pain receptors wouldn't register properly. Not for the comfort of the converted, but so that it would happen so quickly they wouldn't be able to fight it. Less pain, less of a change for your body to try to fight off the transformation. Syntax had insisted on mechanical changes, nano-bots or something of the sort instead of organic growth. Macaque himself had vetoed this, saying something about how it wouldn't make him feel whole again.

This made the changes slow. Too slow, so much so that the mixture was fought off by his immortal monkey biology too quickly for it to take hold the way it was supposed to, requiring Syntax to make it stronger and stronger each time in the hopes it would finally kick in.

Now Macaque laid on the ground, holding his face and screaming so much Syntax feared his vocal cords would give out. The last two treatments had lengthened his torso even more and changed his fur consistency entirely. Once soft and thick black fur was a mixture of that and the coarse purple hair of a spider, not meshing together at all and instead forming an odd pattern on his body. At some points silver had begun to peak through, though if that was supposed to happen or if it was a reaction to the sheer stress of his body undergoing a change that should not be happening he was not sure. Syntax could see the red mark on his face warping, changing into the same purple on his torso around his eyes and moving up on his face as two more eyes grew above the ones he already had. It was fascinating to be sure, and he would have said that it was almost pretty had it not seen the build up of them forming in a fashion he wished to never see in slow build up ever again.

He was a scientist. He was supposed to be impartial to his work above all else, and he had agreed to help of... mostly his own volition. But this... This made him more uncomfortable than he was ready to admit.

"Help him up," Spider Queen said after Macaque collapsed onto the floor, screaming ceased as his body fought off the mixture for the fourth time. She looked... perturbed. Discomforted. "After his last treatment... move on to your idea. We are not doing this again."

She moved out of the room quickly, to fast to even tell her if he would or not, covering the side of her face with her hand to shield her from the sight of the collapse man on the floor. Yes... discomforted indeed.

Syntax didn't have that luxury. And he would not leave Macaque to lay on the floor regardless of orders. But the way he shook and covered his new eyes and the small amount of tears leaking from his normal eyes made a pang of pity shoot through him. He was a scientist... but he was still human.

"I believe I can be of some help here," he said softly, taking off his lab coat and folding it part way before shoving it under Macaque's head and laying the unfolded part over his face. The demon let out a half whimper, clearly bit back as he didn't want to show weakness, but eased ever so slightly as he realized the coat blocked out the light of the lab just as well as his hands had. "It's not a perfect solution, but it gets the job done.

"Th-thought Queenie s-said to help me u-up," Macaque stuttered out, moving his hands to grip the coat instead of his eyes.

"Yes, but that would be a bad idea," Syntax explained, sitting on the floor next to him with a sigh. He pulled his tablet down from a nearby table, there was no point in not getting at least some work done, and began scribbling away with the attached pen. "Your eyes are far too sensitive and with the other changes you have gone through your body will likely collapse again before we could get you to a cot. It's best you remain stationary for the time being until I am able to assess your pain tolerance properly, then I will move you to your quarters."

Macaque didn't say anything, just huffed in reply and seemed to relax. Syntax wondered if he was thankful he wouldn't have to move immediately this time, and he could have sworn he heard something... rumbling.

Maybe it was the machinery behind them.

He felt Macaque's tail hit his side after a while, thumping softly against him... but he didn't push it away.

He wondered if this would change anything at all.

~

Syntax saw more of Macaque than usual after that. Sometimes he would wander into his lab and just... stay there. Silent as the shadows he liked to hide in. Sometimes he would just watch him work, other times he would bring him plums or mangoes. Syntax never had much of a taste for fruit, not really enjoying any form of sweets, but he would not pass up free food when his stomach rumbled in protest from his long hours. One time Macaque had brought in a book, sat on his desk, and just read it.

That was bizarre, even for him. But Syntax found he didn't exactly mind the company. It was quite... lonely in the lab. He was the only human in the Spider Queen's entourage and her other two companions weren't exactly the best company. Oh, the big guy was nice and all and Syntax even enjoyed his presence well enough. But he would grow bored of the scientist's techno babble and science talk eventually and leave with a nod and a wave goodbye. He was grateful that he seemed to listen, however, even if he wasn't interested in the specifics.

The other one, however, was a pain in his ass. Constantly one upping him, trying to belittle him for being a human, just being an all around annoyance. He tried to act cool and suave but Syntax just found him obnoxious.

Macaque... Macaque stayed, listened even if Syntax ran out of things to talk about. And it was oddly nice. He felt himself growing excited for when the part-spider part-monkey would make his presence known.

He wondered, distantly... if Macaque was starting to mean something to him. To matter, in a way.

~

The day of the final treatment eventually arrived and Syntax actually dreaded what might happen. This was their last shot to make this work completely, there was a greater than 0% chance that this would cause irreparable damage to the monkey demon if they had to continue farther. But it seemed his worries were unfounded. He was smart, a genius even. He had done his job properly, even if it had taken far too long and was the least beneficial way to accomplish the goal.

Macaque screamed worse than with every other treatment, and understandably do. It would have shocked him if Macaque hadn't since he was growing two new arms.

The Spider Queen had taken her leave shortly after, disgusted by the sight before her. It was Syntax's job to watch as Macaque slowly changed before him, bones and muscle and sinew growing slowly and bit by until finally... finally it was finished.

They had learned from last time, placing a cot on the ground for him to sit on while this happened, and he collapsed onto his back. Two new arms limp against the floor as he shook and twitched and cried cold tears in agony. But it was finished.

Syntax couldn't stop himself. He rushed forward, kneeling beside Macaque's head, watching his eyes and expression for recognition and any sign that he was alright. It had only been two weeks since the last treatment, the time needed for him to recuperate, but in that short time... he had grown oddly fond of the man on the cot. He did not know what he felt for him, not yet, but he knew that he did not dislike him in the slightest.

"Ma-Macaque?" He asked softly after no response for nearly 15 minutes, waiting and watching and finally Macaque's eyes turned to him. "How do you feel?"

Macaque didn't say anything to him at first. Just blinked before a weak chuckle resounded from his throat.

"Whole."

~

The transformation was a mistake. Syntax had never felt guilt for any of his scientific achievement before, and he did not feel guilt for helping the Spider Queen in her endeavor, bit this? This he felt guilt for.

Macaque was in pain. Constantly. Sometimes it was just a dull ache, other times he almost collapsed as something moved the way it shouldn't and he had to bite back a scream. But there was no taking it back now and Macaque reveled in "feeling whole" again.

Syntax felt a mix of awe and wonder whenever he looked at the demon. He was... handsome, the purples and blacks and silvers of his fur blending together properly now. His eyes brilliant gold and green. And when he wasn't in pain his smile was nice, soft even if he could call it that. He was unsure of how much of it was true, he knew the Six-Eared Macaque to be a trickster. But he hoped some of it was, at least when directed at him.

But when he was in pain his face twisted in a way that made Syntax sick to his stomach to see it each time the agony rang true on his face. But Macaque brushed it off, not seeming to pay it much mind. Not when he had his eyes and arms "back".

The Spider Queen agreed with him, he could tell, but probably not for the same reasons. She seemed frightened of him. Goliath and Huntsman were just scared of him too. They avoided him like he would kill them on sight.

Syntax, despite his guilt, welcomes his presence still. He was not frightened of Macaque in the least. No, he just felt guilt that he was in pain. And he would never not want to help him through that now. The spider monkie had grown attached to him, almost a constant companion at his side. And he had grown fond of him as well.

He learned that Macaque had a flair for the theater. He made shadow puppets when the Spider Queen wasn't watching, though for what purpose and what audience Syntax had not asked. He liked to watch Syntax work, and eventually as he started to rest his head on the human's shoulder he learned the rumbling from the second to last treatment was a purr. He didn't know demons could purr, let alone to speed up recovery from injuries.

But the day of the Lunar New Year was coming and Syntax could tell he had something else... someone else on his mind.

~

The next day was to be the day. Syntax's last chance to get the new formula and tech right. It almost felt like a repeat of the past treatments but with less screaming. He was worried.

Macaque wasn't, however. He had never been worried, assuring the Spider Queen (sometimes through growls and bared teeth) that it would be done in time. He'd been a success after all. (Syntax said nothing each time.)

They'd never been this close before, but Macaque had eventually dragged the scientist away from his computer for rest. Taken him to his room, sat on the bed with him, and just. Held him. Purring loud and deep and eventually Syntax was lulled into slumber sitting up against the soft-coarse fur of Macaque.

He realized that Macaque mattered to him more than he cared to admit.

~

Syntax had failed. His formula and tech hadn't worked. They only had one shot left, and there was no time for him to fix his mistakes before the end of the celebration. Macaque had been in too much pain, on the other side of the room, to tell Spider Queen off this time. It was all over...

Until she came. The young woman in white and blue. She'd done something, added an ingredient he had not been able to calculate for, and then...

"Let's give it a spin," Spider Queen had said with a smirk as she turned toward her human scientist... her human guinea pig.

"Wait, no!" Syntax backed up, knowing that it was almost pointless to attempt escape. There was nowhere to run. "I helped you! You need me! Maca-AGH!"

Before the spider monkie could rush to his side the little spider drone had jumped on Syntax, adhering itself to his face before he fell backward over some machinery. It crawled around him, situating itself on his back and digging in it's injectors and

pain agony pain pain something came out of his back pain another painpainhescreamedandscreamed ANOTHER AGONYISTHISWHATMACAQUEFELTPAIN one more

And then it was over. Syntax felt... nothing. No pain. No agony.

No... guilt.

He stood straight, facing forward before kneeling. He knew what he had to do.

"My queen."

Yes. His queen. The Spider Queen.

She was the only one who mattered to him.

He heard his name spoken from the other side of the room but paid it no mind. That voice didn't matter to him.

That wasn't the voice of his queen.

~

"Syntax?" Macaque called, unable to stand from his spot as his arms throbbed in ghost pain. He had tried to stand before, when the drone had lunged at him, but the pain shot through him for a split second and send him to his knees too quickly.

His screams... his screams made his ears pull back not from the pain of the volume but from fear and something else.

Then Syntax stopped screaming and stood and knelt before the Queen.

"Syntax!"

... he never responded.

Macaque wondered if this is what guilt felt like.

[feelin-lo]

Hey Lo, I picked up a few questions for u to answer from the reblog you posted Soo yea have fun answering them dear one🙂😃😄✨✨

2). 5 favourites of your own work?

4). Favourite things to draw?

5). Anything you haven’t drawn yet but want to?

8). What do you like most about your own work?

16). What’s the most daunting part of your process? Ex, planning, sketching, lineart, rendering etc

2 - my five Favourite things about my work?

I like the variety of characters I draw, I don't show many of them but I have quite the cast of funky guys and gals in my locker,

I like the stories I write about said characters and the way they can have deeper meaning

The research that goes in to the work so I know that I'm not telling false facts about a subject

I like the feedback I receive (when I do receive some)

And I like the progression, or as others call it, Trusting the process.

4 - favourite things to draw?

I like drawing from prompts mainly. I remember when I first started up this blog, people used to send me random incorrect quotes or prompts to put my characters in, and I used to draw but never post them. Now, I barely do that as those people aren't on my blog anymore sadly.

But I still draw incorrect quotes and inserting my characters into memes when I get bored.

5 - I want to draw more inhuman characters, like with Mer Logan or Marcello Fawn, those were two non human characters with human characteristics. I want to try more of that but I keep thinking I'll mess up somehow and errrrrrr

Please send me some things like that! Like, beings that are half human or something like that! Marcello is an Elaphocentaur (half deer half human) and I wanna try more of that!

8 - what do I like the most?

Finishing up the drawing so I can cuddle down and sleep, when I wake up I look for any feedback that people's send so I can improve! Most days I don't get that though...

16 - most daunting part of the process?

Picking a character to draw. I have 90 characters and sometimes it's hard to pick one that isn't one I've drawn 100 times (feel free to send a number btw, I honestly don't know what to do with all of these-)

[kurutabaa]

hi i discovered ur blog and its my new fave thing ever! may i req for a ryuji version of the "friend trying to pair up with his future s/o" thing u did? i feel like ann would fit as scheming matchmaker. (or u can pick whoever though) im such a loser for this idea, it's genius. i love ryuji so 👁👄👁 totally self indulgent

Ann Trying to Pair up Ryuji with his Future S/O!

Did I hear Ann the matchmaker and Ryuji as the matchmaker victim?! Yesyes!! I would be happy enough to do a lot more of these “Friend Pairing up Someone with Future S/O” scenarios!! Plus, Ann is the freaking best and I adore her~

(Futaba/Akira version of this scenario here!)

Ann Takamaki + Ryuji Sakamoto!

Featuring Ann as the Matchmaker and Ryuji + S/O as her target~

As the whole “Futaba pairing up Akira and his S/O together” situation died down, Ann noticed something similar to that with you and Ryuji.

She noticed how Ryuji would act stupider than he normally was around you. How he would try to say something cool but fail horribly, the way he tried to avoid eye contact with you and how he wouldn’t dare get closer then a meter towards you.

Although Ann had no solid evidence for any feelings, she realized this was Ryuji we were talking about. She needed to get her hands dirty.

After this realization, Ann will immediately interrogate Ryuji, wether it’d be at the lockers, cafeteria, or courtyard, she needs some answers.

“Hey, Sakamoto. What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“How stupid are you? I’m obviously talking about Y/N, it’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for them.”

“What?! W-Where did you get bullshit like that?!”

“Don’t play dumb with me! Now, I’m gonna help you win their heart, got it?”

Will definitely somehow rope in Akira the PT Girls into her schemes. Wether it’d be for date ideas or scheming “We’re just hanging out but this is totally meant to be a date!” plans.

Depending on which person you hang out with a lot, she’ll tell them to ask you what you think of Ryuji and to tell her afterwards.

When it turns out that you do have feelings for Ryuji, she’s now extremely adamant on getting you two together.

Will either tell you or Ryuji to ask one another if they want to go out for lunch, but most likely Ryuji has to do it.

It would be the end of class, you would be unknowingly packing your bag as Ann gives a thumbs up of approval to Ryuji. He uncomfortably walks his way towards you and calls out your name.

“Ryuji? What’s up?”

“I-I was wondering if..”

He looks for help to Ann, which he now realises that the entire PT group is now spying on the two of them. Thanks, Ann.

“U-Uh, I need some help with studying, so I’m wondering if you would hang out for a bit afterschool.”

Ryuji audibly hears the Phantom Theif members sighing in relief.

“Oh! Sure thing, where do you want to meet?”

“What about the ramen shop in Shibuya? My treat!”

“Alright! We can go on the train together to Shibuya, then!”

“C-Cool beans!”

As soon as he walked away, he was internally celebrating and had the goofiest smile on his face.

Ann will assign the guys to “prep” Ryuji for their study date while she takes the girls to “help” S/O

What do the guys do to prep Ryuji? Well, everyone gives him strange dating advice, besides Akira who now has some experience in being in a relationship.

“I get it, I get it! I won’t say anything stupid, now can ya stop pestering me?”

How do the girls help you? Well, their actually a bit more helpful! Haru and Ann initiate on styling your school uniform a certain way to make it more flashing, and also attempt at styling your hair either by putting in cute hairclips or puffing it up.

Haru will also give you a pep talk before you go home!

“You can do it, Y/N! And if Ryuji-kun breaks your heart, he’ll feel the wrath of my axe!”

“R-Right..”

You meet up with Ryuji at the station, taking the train to Shibuya. It was hot and uncomfortable, being stuffed inbetween students and office workers like a sardine can sucked.

You two sighed in relief as you got off the train, then immediately losing eachother in the ocean of people.

After you two find eachother again, the both of you awkwardly agree to link eachothers arms in order to not lose eachother.

“J-Just hold onto my arm and you’ll be good, alright?”

It wasn’t as busy as you two walked down the streets of Shibuya, the two of you gleaming once you found the ramen place.

The two of you ordered your dishes and started some small talk, it wasn’t actually as awkward as Ryuji imagined it to be. Maybe he was just that comfortable with you to forget that this was supposed to be an awkward first date.

“Oh, you asked me to come here to study, right? So, what do you need help on? We have that English test coming up soon.”

“Huh? O-Oh! I didn’t actually needed to study.. I, uh..”

Yikes, he may have just dug himself a hole to confessing why he really wanted you here.

You noticed that he was hesitant on finishing his sentence, and your mind began to race. Wait, was this meant to be a date? Your cheeks flushed at his true intentions.

“Y-Y’know, if you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t have to make up an excuse.. I-I would’ve said yes even if you asked me straightforward!”

It was silent for a few seconds, although you were in a public restaurant, it felt like the two of you were alone.

Ryuji finally broke the silence. “Y/N! Honestly, I..”

He got up suddenly, bending down onto the ground and bursting out,

“I like you! Please go out with me!”

Everyone stared at him strangely, did a highschooler just got onto the ground and confessed his feelings?

Speaking of everyone, Ann was intently watching with the rest of the Phantom Theives by her side once again. She is the matchmaker after all, it wouldn’t be efficient to leave the pair alone.

“What a flashy way to confess to someone.” Akira muttered.

“Shh! It’s gonna get good!” Futaba hushed him.

You felt embarrassed, speechless, but also quite flattered. You tried your best to look to answer.

“I-I like you too..!”

Ryuji looks up at you in shock, a blush spread across his cheeks

“F-For real?!”

You silently nod your head, while Ryuji has the biggest smile on his face. This strangely sweet moment only to be interrupted by a worker.

“Hey, kiddos, you either keep quiet or take your buisness somewhere else.”

“S-Sorry!” “Sorry!”

The rest of the date went off without a hitch! The two of you turning small talk into engaging conversations and not having a care in the world.

It was getting dark out, so the two of you went to the train station so you wouldn’t get stuck in Shibuya. Surprisingly enough, the Phantom Thieves were still keeping an eye on you two! Despite everyone else wanting to go home, Ann forced them to stay.

You and Ryuji stood in silence, the only thing you can hear is the echos of doors opening and closing, alongside the footsteps of busy people.

“Hey, Ryuji..”

“What’s up?”

You gulped, shyly fiddling with the straps of your uniform.

“Does this mean we’re dating now?”

Ryuji winced, trying to look for the right answer.

“I mean.. If you want to?”

You tried to hide the growing smile on your face, reaching your fingertips to interlock your hand with his.

“I’d like that.”

“C-Cool beans..!” He slightly squeezed your hand, his muscles soon relaxing.

[Extra]

“Well! My job here is done!” Ann patted down her uniform and grinned in pride. “I also snagged a video of this moment, too~”

“I hope their relationship goes well! We should probably leave them be now.” Haru excitingly said, her mind was running with cheesy romantic scenarios.

“Just make sure Ryuji or Y/N find it.” Akira chuckled at how prideful Ann seemed.

“Eh?! You recorded it? Let me see, let me see!” Futaba hurringly rushed to Ann’s side to take a glimpse of the video.

Afterwards, Ann will definitely tease you both with remarks of “It was so obvious you two liked eachother!” or “This bonehead here is too stupid to do it himself, so I had you help you two out.”

Ann is very happy for the two of you! She’ll prepare outfits for you whenever you and Ryuji go out and, if you’re a female, will do your makeup for you~

Dec 14 2020

Can I just say, this was so fun for me to write!!! I adore this prompt with all my heart and I hope you can tell I put my best effort into it! Please feel free to send in another Ryuji ask, this dork is adorable~

Thank you for Reading!

[dvixiecups]

"Go go go go!" Osamu shouted as gunfire rained down on the pair, their backs to a flaming building.

It was a classic case of a mission gone awry, the two's incessant bickering alerting half the building of their presence during their "quiet" escape.

"It's your fault we're doing this in the first place!  No we're gonna be here for so much longer," Chuuya snapped, his powerful legs quickly closing the distance between him and a random car parked on the curb.

Thoughtlessly, he smashed open the window while Osamu looped around the car, smashing the opposite window.  The two quickly pulled the car doors open from the inside, slipping in and shutting the doors with a slam.  Chuuya reached in front of him to begin the hot wiring process.

"Wrong side!" Osamu sang, his hands playing with the wires under the wheel.

"Hey!  Let me drive you bastard!"

"No can do, we're out of time. Besides it's not like you could reach the pedals anyway," Osamu chuckled, slamming his foot on the gas as their pursuers hopped onto moterbikes.

Chuuya glared at Osamu's irritatingly smug face, ignoring the ear splitting shatter of bullets against the back window.

"You suck ass at driving!  If those guys don't kill us, you will!" Chuuya shouted just before he was thrown against the car due to a sharp spin of the wheel.

"Yea well you drive like a grandma!  Remember when you stopped at a stop sign while we were being chased?"

"There was a cat in the middle of the road!  We're mafia, not heartless!  I mean at least I can turn without the car going on two wheels."

"How is that a good thing?  Where's the fun in having all wheels on the ground?" Osamu punctuated his point by drifting down an allyway, slowing down their followers just a little, "okay now shoot at them, it's a narrow road even you can't miss."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Chuuya pulled a handful of bullets out of his pocket, leaning out the passenger window and throwing them behind the car.

Rubber squealed as bullets punctered the tires of the bikes, sending their drivers careening into one another.  Chuuya silently congratulated himself.

"Don't get too happy, we're still far from headquarters," Osamu nudged at Chuuya with his free hand, the car weaving down the empty road.

"If we even make it that far in this coffin on wheels," Chuuya gritted, his arms braced on the center console and door respectively.

"Awh, have a little more faith in me chibikko," Osamu pouted, the car flying over a speed bump, sending the riders and any object not nailed down flying.

A sudden bubble of air forced it's way out of Chuuya, alerting him of the nausea which had been lingering in his gut since entering this death trap.  He clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at the sudden intense feeling.

"Holy shit," he hiccuped, "Your piss-poor driving actually made me fucking carsick."

"That sounds like a you problem," Osamu retorted, turning away from the road to smirk at his passenger.

"It's gonna be an us problem when I puke on your smug ass."

Osamu's smile dropped.

"You wouldn't dare."

Chuuya fake gagged at the driver, eliciting a scream out of the latter.  The car swerved precariously as Osamu took his hands off the wheel in favor of pushing Chuuya away.

"Dude!  Keep your hands on the fucking wheel," Chuuya cried, using his hand to supress a gag.

"Keep your stomach in your fucking stomach!"

Seething, Chuuya turned away, instead trying to distract himself with the horizon.

"Just, drive a little softer... please," he requested, voice faint and genuine, completely unlike his usual tone.

Ignoring him, Osamu pressed down on the pedal faster- opting to arrive at the center of the city before Chuuya had a chance to get sick.  Chuuya's mouth was downturned, his arms hugging his midsection.

His plan worked, as they usually do, and the car came to a squealing stop outside the main building.  A man in a suit was waiting for them.  Stepping out of the car, Osamu rested his head on the car roof to prompt the member.

"Boss would like to speak with you," he informed, deadpan.

Osamu cursed under his breath, already knowing what the meeting would be adressing.  Putting on a smile, he drummed the top of the car, avoiding where bullets had sharpened the car.

"Well you heard him!  We should go, it's bad to keep the boss waiting."

Chuuya groaned, the world still spinning around him as Osamu pulled him onto his feet and towards the familiar buidling.  The former knew better than to protest, having experienced Ougai's silent rage towards whoever leaves the boss expectant.  That feeling of shame was far worse than the nausea fiercely gripping his stomach.

The elevator ride was a living hell, Chuuya's stomach remaining on the first floor as the rest of his body travelled up.  Seeing the city grow smaller through the glass walls was vertigo inducing, a feeling Chuuya had never felt even when meters in the air using his ability.  Maybe it was due to the lack on control.  When using his ability or driving, Chuuya never experienced a problem akin to this.  Closing his eyes didn't help, the neverending movement only playing against his eyelids like a shitty projector.

After a truly painfully long time, the elevator stopped with a ding, it's doors opening slowly.  Trying to present himself as best as possible, Chuuya crossed the threshold and into the boss' office with a straight back and one step ahead of Osamu.

His jaw was clenched at this point, respect and fear for the boss being the only thing holding his lunch in place.  What would happen when that wore off?  When the nausea came to a breaking point which loomed like a wave, large and close to break, what would Chuuya do then?

He didn't have long to ponder this, his body lurched forward before even being able to adress Ougai.  Appauled with his bodys betrayal, Chuuya apologized.  Osamu side eyed him, before speaking with Ougai.

"You called us?" Osamu prompted.

"I did.  What happened today?"

"Someone," Osamu nodded towards Chuuya who was struggling to hold himself upright, "got too offended by a joke and started yelling."

"Oh, as if it's," he paused to stifle a burp, "my fault!"

"And how did that happen?" Ougai motioned towards Chuuya.

"This bastard never learned how to drive!" A retch tailed his statement, much to Chuuya's horror.

Osamu stepped away silently and Chuuya fell to his knees, hands in fists against the floor.

"And he never learned how to handle a couple bumps and turns!"

"Shut. Up," Chuuya demanded through his teeth, eyes closed with concentration.

The guards shifted uncomfortably across the room.

"Help him to the restroom," Ougai commanded, staring Osamu in the eye.

"What!" He all but yelled, "why me?  He can crawl there himself!"

"Osamu.  Now."

Scowling at Ougai, Osamu grimaced down at Chuuya before offering his hand.

"Is this," Chuuya paused to swallow down his nausea, "our punishment?"

"Only if you look at it that way," Ougai responded as Chuuya reluctantly look Osamu's hand.

Chuuya was able to hold his composure- or what shreds were left of his composure- until the pair made it into the hallway.

"If you puke on me I will put dried shit in all of your cigarettes," Osamu threatened through clenched teeth.

"Don't tempt me," Chuuya retorted through similarly clenched teeth.  It's not that he wanted to get sick on his "partner" but the odds really weren't in his favor right now.  Plus, it's not like Osamu didn't deserve it.

As soon as the bathrooms came into view, Chuuya peeled himself out of Osamu's hold and stumbled over to one of the sinks.  Planting his hands firmly on the basin, he allowed his upped back to arch with a heave.

"You're disgusting," Osamu stated plainly from the entryway.

"Like you're," he gagged openly, "one to talk."

"At least I'm not retching like a cat choking on a hairball!"

"At least my hair doesn't look like an overgrown sewer rat wearing dollar hair extentions!"

"Oh hoh hoh, YOU'RE one to talk about hair."

"The hell is that supposed to me-"

His head was still facing towards Osamu when a final gag brought up a mouthful of sick.

Both their eyes went wide as they registered what had just took place.  Osamu was mortified, looking at the splatters of illness on his finely polished shoes.

"Awh fuck!  Go back over the sink!" Osamu jumped into the hair.

"Shut u-" a burp over took his threat, leaving his attempt at enounciation sounding more like a frog.

Another, far heavier wave came out, splashing messily into the sink basin.  His fingers were dirtied with the foul substance, it's smell permeating the small room.

"This is your fucking fault you overrated, bland ass, one man Romeo and Juliet remake.

"You're buying me new shoes."

"Fat chance, JD"

[kuiinncedes]

show me the places where the others gave you scars 

shadowhunter!klaine oneshot

author’s note i guess lmao: so i saw a prompt list that had something like “i’d hurt anyone who’s given you a scar” and i ran with some shadowhunters!klaine 😋 idk if i need to explain the shadowhunter things... i think i’ll leave it out for now tho so if anyone has any questions about it please feel free to ask :)

might need warnings for minor descriptions/discussion of violence and injury? nothing too graphic, nothing that you wouldn’t see in a young adult novel (which is what the shadowhunter chronicles is so yeah) -- it’s slightly angsty i guess, i was going for hurt/comfort, did i achieve it who knows

i’m scared of ao3 so i’m just posting here lol 😗✌️ and it’s completely under the cut because idk where else to put the cut 😂 (sooo pls click keep reading if u want :3)

***

“Blaine, I’m okay, by the Angel,” Kurt huffs as Blaine pulls him into the infirmary and calls out a quick response to someone asking where they’re going.

“You’re not, really, but humor me.” 

Kurt kisses his cheek. “Fine.” Blaine smiles at him from the side as he takes out some supplies. Kurt smiles back and swings his feet from where he’s sat on the infirmary cot, humming lightly and smiling wider when he sees Blaine holding back a giggle. 

“Okay, let me see,” Blaine says, stepping up to the injured arm’s side. He gently holds Kurt’s arm and starts cleaning the wound near his shoulder. 

The work is interrupted when Blaine’s hands slow and stop as they near Kurt’s elbow. Blaine inhales and Kurt’s eyes snap to that spot, seeing immediately what Blaine’s attention has been caught by. His heart starts beating a little faster, more out of instinct than actual tension or fear, which he knows is unnecessary right now. He takes a breath and looks up at Blaine expectantly.

“You haven’t seen this one before?” Kurt asks softly. It’s probably one of his most prominent scars -- definitely the one he’s most insecure about, so honestly, it’s not that big of a shock that he’s managed to hide it for so long, even from Blaine. But he’s still a little surprised.

“No,” Blaine murmurs, his golden eyes warm, close, safe. “Can I… how’d you get it?”

Kurt shrugs. “A training accident my first year at the Shadowhunter Academy.” He pauses, then continues with a grumble, “Although, if you ask me, maybe not that much of an accident.” Also if you asked anyone else in the room -- other than the person who was the cause of the incident, or the incompetent weapons training master who would rather fight and be destroyed by a Greater Demon than run a single effective, useful class, and especially rather than treating his only half-faerie student with any kind of respect. (Kurt had had to teach himself most of the weapons, finding ways to sneak into the training room after class or in the middle of the night, fighting twice as hard as anyone else for his proficiency in fighting skills as well as for acceptance among his classmates. He had done pretty well, if he could say so himself, especially for the former. And if the midnight training might have given him the opportunity to set fire to some of Scarsbury’s things… that was an added bonus.)

Blaine gently runs his fingers over the imperfect skin, sending shivers down Kurt’s body. “I want to hurt anyone who’s ever left a scar on you,” Blaine whispers vehemently, and it makes Kurt think, anyone who believes that Blaine Anderson, one of the best Shadowhunters Kurt knows, is only gentle and soft -- Kurt’s even heard weak, hissed in a demeaning, cruel tone, and that one almost sent him running with seraph blades blazing for the speaker -- is in for a surprise if they ever face him.

“Well, it might be hard to track down all those demons, but I appreciate the thought.” He smiles as Blaine rolls his eyes at him. 

“I’d do it,” Blaine says. Blaine’s eyes hold steady contact, and the insistence almost brings tears to Kurt’s eyes. He swallows the feeling down. 

“As if you could,” he teases. 

Blaine scoffs. “Is that a challenge?” He goes back to washing off the dirt and demon ichor on Kurt’s upper arm. “I’ll have you know, I am Blaine Anderson, most promising Shadowhunter of a generation, blah blah blah blah…”

Kurt just grins and shakes his head. “You are, though,” he says quietly, and kisses Blaine when he leans closer to reach the clean bandages behind him. 

Blaine sighs, shrugging, but he smiles a little as he pulls back despite the resentment in his eyes. 

Kurt knows how much Blaine hates the reputation, the whispers, the jealousy, the attention, but most, if not all of it is well-deserved -- it doesn’t take much time spent with Blaine to see that. And fighting against it will be for another time; right now, it’s acceptance (and some teasing).

And it’s Blaine’s gentle, calloused fingers brushing against his skin, quickly and perfectly wrapping Kurt’s arm again, so careful not to hurt him and Kurt’s heart aches with how much he loves him, having had so much thrown on him from a young age but still the most compassionate soul Kurt’s ever met. Gentle -- but in a different way than what others see and make fun of.

Not to mention an incredible Shadowhunter… in many different ways. 

“I think you should be able to use an iratze soon,” Blaine muses as he works. “You look a lot better.”

“Oh, so I looked bad before?” Kurt knocks Blaine’s shoulder gently with his.

“Next time don’t take a poisonous demon tentacle to the arm, okay? It wasn’t pretty.” Blaine grimaces a little.

“I’d do it again.” Kurt’s voice is hushed, bare and honest as their eyes meet.

Blaine swallows, looking down and then leaning his forehead against Kurt’s lightly. “I don’t want you to,” he whispers.

Kurt cups his cheek. “I know, honey.”

The demon tentacle had lashed out for Blaine, who had been distracted by a different demon,  and Kurt managed to cut it in time, just not before it hit his own arm. It wasn’t fun to deal with it for the rest of the patrol, while relatively short. And it definitely wasn’t fun to know that Blaine was worrying about him, or to almost pass out before Mike could warlock-magic away the poison from the injury, or to have Blaine see that.

For you, a thousand times over, Kurt thinks, watching as Blaine finishes with his arm.

“Okay, your turn,” Kurt says, trying to lighten the mood. He hops up from the small bed and moves to the side. 

“Don’t worry about me, I wasn’t hurt that badly -- ”

“You still need an iratze, honey, sit down.” Blaine laughs softly and obeys, watches as Kurt carefully draws the rune on his upper arm and the cuts on his cheek and collarbone disappear. Leaning in, Kurt gently brushes his lips over both spots, now with barely even a scar. “There,” he murmurs, “all better.”

Blaine looks up at him, the light in his smile blinding but Kurt doesn’t mind. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you, too. So much.” Blaine squeezes his hand, kisses him again, deeply, sweetly.

Kurt starts to deepen the kiss, pulling Blaine up and closing the space between them, but they are startled apart from each other when someone bangs on the infirmary doors. 

Rachel’s voice rings out from the other side. “I don’t know what you guys are doing in here and it’s been a while of you ‘cleaning up,’ so I’m not coming in, just telling you we’re doing game night in 5 minutes! Don’t be late!” Her footsteps echo away loudly.

Kurt laughs softly. “Ready?” he asks, extending a hand to Blaine. They lightly swing their hands between them on the way out. 

***

other notes for after :P 

“for you, a thousand times over” is a line from the kite runner by khaled hosseini!!! i used it because it makes me lose my shit every time i think about it <3

mike’s a warlock for fun reasons 🤪

title from “willow” by taylor swift :)))

again please let me know if you want/need to know anything about the shadowhunter part of this!! idk how understandable it might be to everyone else because i’m absolutely obsessed with the books and just kinda wrote this very (VERY) self-indulgently hehe 

thank u for reading 💕💕

[harvestdew]

I love your character dynamic posts! Could you do one for cleo and sebastian or haley and Cleo?

aw thank you so much! i was struggling to pick which one to do but i'm gonna just do haley and cleo because i've been itching to flesh them out besides "haha prep goth gfs"

haley + cleo

cleo and haley are initially catty towards each other. they had a bad first meeting where cleo bumped into haley and made her drop her camera - which is a completely valid reason to be angry at someone, but cleo is a moody young adult who ran away so she doesn't say sorry

so before they were getting along haley just grit her teeth and pretended to be nice in front of kiki. cleo doesn't even try though even if her cousin gets on her case about it. otherwise, haley would toss insults or even her typical backhanded compliments. then cleo would get mad and start arguing with her for no reason in the town square. alex has probably made a comment like "you guys bicker like a married couple lol"

IDK how to explain how they started dating. it happens cuz i'm cheesy 😭 i took a little inspo from this one "to all the boys i've loved before" haley prompt. emily finds a box of letters that haley wrote to theoretically send to people she was into including alex (even when that crush is probably comphet), and sends them out. alex is about to confront haley about it and she can either a) have the most awkward conversation with alex or b) literally do anything but that. i figure alex is one of her closest friends if not one of her only ones so it's not really worth risking over what she thinks is gonna be her rejecting him? so when alex tries to say smthing to her about is and haley just lies and says "i'm going out with the new girl" hoping it'll deter him. the only reason why cleo agrees to this is because she hates alex, which is why she feels bad for haley pleading her case to her. it's not supposed to go on that long but haha 😳what if we were both girls and we pretended to date and then fell in love

fake dating period is awkward at first! they're forced to hang out with each other more to make it look like they're dating and for a bit it's like forcefully tolerating each other til haley gives in and says "we're just making ourselves more miserable" and they GUESS they have to know each other. it's kinda smug at first and they probably can't get through a single convo without scoffing at each other. but then it reaches a boiling point where they realize they have a lot more in common than they think

haley definitely catches feeling when she goes through pictures on her new camera, where she finds some she took of cleo and thinks "oh. shit lol"

somewhere along the way they do become friends. it's full of a lot of high-fiving to make fun of ppl, anticipating each other's needs, and hanging out with each other willingly and having fun w/o realizing. haley continues to mock cleo but more lovingly

that one pic of the girl sitting on the other girl and doing her makeup is them. that's it

cleo and haley don't trade clothes but cleo gives in and lets haley style her. haley is surprisingly good at understanding her style, but sometimes dresses her girlfriend up in shit she hates. in any other scenario she'd be peeved but she's okay with it if haley thinks she looks cute </3

cleo hates modeling and probably won't be working in the field anymore but models for haley and emily's clothing business for free. more generally, she grows accustomed to helping haley with her photography even if it means going to lengthy means to get exactly what haley wants. haley could spend 4 hours taking pictures on the beach and cleo would be passed out on the sand waiting for her

haley flicks kiki's head but cleo doesn't let haley do it to her. she does it to haley instead LOL (lovingly ofc)

haley is fine and maybe (?) even revels in pda because she likes bragging about her partner. cleo hates pda only because she doesn't like people in her business and feels like everything it happens she will implode

haley is super supportive of cleo being in sam's band even if she doesn't like the genre of music. she reminds me of knives in scott pilgrim fangirling over sex bob-omb and passing out from excitement. but definitely a supportive gf who wears band merch and unashamedly promotes her partner's band! haley is also the one who encourages her to get back into music and pitches the idea to sam to get cleo a new bass (she got upset and broke hers before coming to pelican town) as a gift :')

both are equally aggressive and overprotective of each other. it's hard to say which one is more since i do think cleo OR haley can usually handle themselves. but if haley is upset because of alex or someone cleo will go for the kill

and that's it :D there's probably more i'm remembering but thank u sm for the ask!

[agentcherricola]

19 (comfortable) with jet and mads and or cherri? perhaps some romance?

thank u! enjoy some fluffy jetgear (with slight jetgearcola? i’ve never considered this ship before but now i am Thinking) i’m still taking these prompts if anyone wants to send in another :^) 

also in case it’s confusing, cherri uses he/him, jet uses he/they, and mads uses he/him/she/her pronouns

Jet Star lounged on the beat up leather couch in the corner of the studio as Mad Gear tuned the last few strings of his worn acoustic guitar. While she plucked a few scattered notes, Cherri Cola adjusted the long bent pole the spare mic was attached to. He settled for a space right between Mads’ head and the neck of his guitar. 

“That look good here? You can always move it when we’re talkin’,” he said. Mads’ smiled up at him with a nod. 

“S’perfect, thanks,” she replied easily. He turned over his shoulder to wave at Jet, who waved back with a smile. “When are we goin’ on?” she asked. Cherri adjusted his headphones back onto one ear.

“Uh, just another minute or two. Sounds like the morning bulletin is wrappin’ up soon,” he said. Mads swung around on her stool and gestured for Jet to come over. He did, crossing the room in a few strides. They leaned down and met Mads halfway in a kiss. 

“Break a leg, sunshine,” he said against his lips. Mad Gear grinned and pulled them even closer by the collar of their shirt. 

“Mmm, thanks, handsome,” she purred. Cherri tried to politely avert his eyes, but he couldn’t help but steal a glance or two while he kept adjusting his own mic. Jet caught his gaze first. 

“Aw, c’mere, Cherri, we won’t leave you out,” he laughed. They carefully stepped around the mics and gave Cherri a kiss on the cheek. Mads followed suit and took his hand and kissed the back of it. Cherri blushed deeply, smiling.

“Guys,” he chided, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, alright, we’re almost on, Mads, you ready?” He nodded. Jet quickly pressed a kiss to his hand and patted Cherri then Mads on the cheeks on his way back to the couch at the end of the room. Mads smacked their ass on the way. Right as Jet flopped back down, Cherri slid his headphones on his head and pressed a button on the switchboard. “Tune in, tumbleweeds, this is 109.X, WKIL. We got a special guest in the studio today, rockers and rollers. Live in the middle of the desert, Mad Gear!” Jet whistled and clapped from his spot. Mads sent them a little wink before leaning down into his mic. 

“Hey, thanks for having me,” she responded, instantly into performer mode. Jet watched, entranced, as the interview continued. Cherri was a natural behind the mic, and Mads talked about his music like the expert he was. They talked for a little bit about the upcoming tour and her opinions on some other zone bands. 

“...Now, zone children, I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for this one, live in the studio, Mad Gear is gonna play us his new song! Don’t touch that dial,” Cherri said. Mads strummed a chord or two before leaning down into her mic. 

“This is...one I wrote for someone real special to me. Hope y’all like it,” he said, stealing a quick glance over at Jet before launching into the intro. Jet never got tired of watching her perform, whether it was plugged in and amped up in front of hundreds of killjoys, or here, in front of an audience of two on a wooden stool with Jet’s old guitar. He was a natural, and he never looked so peaceful as when he was playing. Perfectly in her element. As the song wrapped, Cherri and Jet both clapped, and Mads did a little bow from his seat. 

“You don’t get performances like that on any other frequency, so keep your battery-powered ears tuned in,” Cherri said into his mic. “Thanks for joinin’ us, Mad Gear.”

“Thanks for havin’ me, handsome,” she replied. Cherri blushed again and Jet laughed so loud it could be heard on both their mics. They wrapped up the segment shortly after and while Cherri gracefully transitioned to some pre-recorded poetry, Mads set down his guitar on the stool and crossed the room to join Jet on the couch. She flopped down in Jet’s lap and smiled up at him. Jet smiled back and leaned down to kiss his sweaty forehead. 

“That was awesome, I love watching you sing,” they said dreamily. Mads beamed. She reached up and pulled Jet back down for a kiss. Cherri switched on his segment and took off the headphones. He made his way to the couch where the other two were and perched on the arm.

“Hey, Mads, really, thanks for doin’ this. It was really great,” he said. Mads waved a dismissive hand.

“Oh no worries, I had a lot of fun!” he said. She picked up her feet and gestured for Cherri to sit on the couch. He grinned and did just that, resting his hand gently on Mads’ leg when he let them down in his lap. All three of them let out a content sigh. “So, uh...what else do you guys have goin’ on today?” Cherri asked after a moment. Jet and Mads looked at each other and shrugged. 

“Dunno,” Jet finally said. “The others don’t really expect me back until sundown, I was plannin’ on just hanging here with you guys.” Mads stretched out languidly.

“Honestly, I could use a nap,” she said. “This is earlier than I’m used to bein’ up.” Cherri looked thoughtful.

“You could nap here, if you wanted. Dr. D is taking over for the afternoon, so it’ll be quiet at least,” he offered. 

“Really? Oh, man, that sounds amazing,” he said, smiling over at him. Cherri looked over at Jet and rested his hand across the couch back, just lightly touching his shoulder. 

“You can feel free to stay, too.” Jet inched a little closer. 

“I’d love that, man. I mean, not like I can go anywhere when I’m being used as a pillow, currently,” they laughed. Mads stuck out her tongue at him. Cherri laughed, too. He tried to stand up from his spot but Mads held on fast.

“No, don’t go, you’re comfy here, too!” he whined, teasing. 

“Oh...but I had…” Cherri trailed off. Jet just shrugged. 

“Hard to argue with her like this,” they said. Cherri looked between the two of them and finally leaned back on the couch. 

“Guess it’s been a while since I’ve had a nap...what the hell,” he said. Mads grinned and sat up quickly to give him a peck on the lips before laying back down and snuggling in close to him and Jet. It didn’t take long for the three of them to nod off, perfectly fit against each other.

[roguish-gallery]

Rogues + Internet/Social Media HCs!

Hello!!! this was requested by @geniusbee I struggled a bit with the initial prompt, so I kinda broadened the question, I hope you don’t mind! Once I got the ball rolling with this one, it was super fun to work on! Thank you again for your request!

If anyone wants to, feel free to send me send me more requests! I’d love to do more of these!

Everything is under the Read More bc this got LONG AS FUCK. (Slight TW for sexual references!)

Bane:

Doesn’t use social media. point blank

He’ll surf the web mostly for research or for communication purposes, but that’s mostly it... That being said sometimes he DOES look up stuff for fun because he’s a naturally curious guy who had limited access to education for the first 20-ish years of his life. It sends him down a rabbit hole of researching weird shit and sometimes you’ll catch him up at 4:00 am looking up how bread was made in Ancient Rome or what Cock and Ball Torture is bc he heard Joker say it once and he’s never EVER fucking heard of those words strung together like that before

Also… his fingers are simply too beefy for most keyboards. Dude tryna sit down and send Scandal Savage some fun cookie recipes she could try with her GF like

 Catwoman:

Not a lot to say here but tbh she probably has the most normal internet habits of everyone. Helps to promote cat shelter’s web pages, and will use some light hacking to find the locations of fur factories and animal abusers but that’s mostly it?

If she isn’t already an influencer, she has definitely considered it. Will sometimes post selfies of her wearing stolen jewelry just to flex. Has a legion of simps.

Clayface

Unknowingly gets into kin drama without trying to

He has... so many theather blogs, musical blogs, and obscure film blogs... someone help him... somehow he regularly adds shit to ALL OF THEM. 

He’s that one bitch who hoards all the canon URLs and there’s nothing you can fucking do to stop him.

Harley Quinn:

Her computer is slow and buggy as shit because she’s got so many viruses from trying to download flash games. Edward refuses to fix her computers at this point because he knows it’s a lost cause.

She vlogs sometimes, actually! And she’ll drag her hyenas or any of the rogues/batfam/GCPD she’s hanging out with atm into it.

She likes to go onto anxiety or depression forums and anonymously leave nice, helpful advice :)

Joker:

Mostly on the dark web, doing… things that you do on the dark web...

If he’s ever on the clean web I promise it’s only to start kin drama or to dm fucked up shit to random people he finds.

Has been known to catfish when the mood strikes him

Also? He jumps onto RP forums and either plays the SHITTIEST Batman, or an eerily accurate Batman.

Killer Croc:

He likes looking up funny videos online!!! Also! Art tutorials!!

He likes to post his artwork online under a pseudonym. He doesn’t expect anyone to really pay attention to his work, but it’s always a very pleasant surprise when someone likes or leaves a nice comment on his art.

 He genuinely cherishes all of his followers and the kind interactions he shares with them.

Mad Hatter:

It’s just hat porn and hentai. I’m sorry.

Mr. Freeze:

Normal internet habits tbh. Doesn’t really go on the internet that often because he doesn’t particularly care about keeping up to date with what’s happening.

He used to have a Facebook where he’d post pictures of himself and Nora, but he can’t really do that anymore due to obvious reasons.

Penguin:

Lightly dabbles in dark web shit (for business purposes) but otherwise he’s like an old man on the internet. Checks the stock market and shit. Responds to his emails in a timely manner. He keeps track of everyone’s internet presence but that’s mostly because he enjoys drama and he doesn’t want to be out of the loop in case Eddie starts something again and he needs to know WHY Jervis and Pamela can’t be in the Iceberg at the same time without trying to kill each other.

He REFUSES to make a social media account for the Iceberg Lounge!!!! It is too classy for that!!!

Other than that, though… don’t tell anyone… but he keeps some tabs open on some 🥺🥺🥺 some bird forums and uh 🥺🥺🥺 m🥺🥺🥺 maybe some blogs he has that are all about Jane Austen and Star Trek: The Next Generation 🥺🥺🥺🥺 n-not like he LIKES Star Trek, though!!

Also in Batman #448 it shows that him and Batman canonically play chess with each other online and you know what? That’s cute as hell so I’m gonna say that they still do that.

Poison Ivy:

Surprising no one… she mostly blogs about botany

Will ONLY go onto other parts of the internet to like and share Harley, Selina, or Waylon’s posts and THAT'S IT!!!!

She is not above getting petty in the comment section!! If she finds a video of some clown over-watering their ferns she will absolutely let them know and she will not be polite about it.

Riddler:

Canonically has the best hookup and 100% is the most active online. Like yeah he does a lot of hacking shit but he uses the internet for legit stuff too.

PURPOSEFULLY looks himself up and will argue with anyone who talks smack about him on literally any of the search results. He WILL remember your username and he WILL publicly mock you for it when he freezes your laptop or when he takes over the broadcasting waves in Gotham again.

You KNOW he has a social media account for everything. He WILL talk about how smart and sexy he is and he WILL get around any attempts made to get him blocked, suspended, or banned. 

“You fool… I have 70  A L T E R N A T I V E  A C C O U N T S”

He is the self-proclaimed tech-guru of the Rogues. He WILL harass you if you are using the wrong web browser or if you have TOO MANY FUCKING TABS OPEN FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.

He calms down somewhat once he becomes a P.I. He’ll take selfies at crime scenes and livestream himself when he’s finding clues or chasing someone down! He’s absolutely obsessed with it and he gets super popular. He knows that he shouldn’t broadcast himself solving crimes... but... the clicks... the views... his stans...

Enjoys gaming and modding whenever he has free time.

Scarecrow:

He hasn’t been in a classroom in years but if you looked at his internet habits you would think he’s still teaching psychology at Gotham U. Responds to emails responsibly (but NOT on weekends or after 10 pm!!)

Probably wouldn’t blog these days, but when he was younger he had a page where he would discuss his psychology work.

He mostly uses the internet for research or to order chemicals but he’ll often get swept up in some inane message chain with Harley and Eddie and he HATES IT.

He has like two dozen tabs open on his computer because he forgets about them and even though some of the tabs have been there for so long that he GENUINELY can’t remember why they were there, he keeps them because it makes Edward break into hives every time he tries to watch what he’s doing online. Giving Edward Nygma anxiety sweats is easy and free and should be done often.

Two-Face:

He uses incognito mode… whenever he needs to google embarrassing questions…

He likes to peruse the dark web but sometimes he enjoys hopping onto r/legaladvice and r/relationships and reads that shit like it's the Sunday paper.

If he’s bored or is having a bad mental day, he likes to look up all the Google doodle games that Google keeps archived. they’re all really cute and are a lot of fun to goof around with whenever he’s wanting to play something light and quick!

[certifiedceraunophile]

Hello! I’m your Klaroline Swap gifter👀 I am sorry it's taken me this long to reach out but I've finally gotten to it! I am excited to be writing for you and wanted to ask a few questions about your gift. Wanted to know about your all-time favorite tropes and side pairings? Any Caroline friendships you like? Any tropes or pairings you don't like? Any pet peeves with KC fic? Any smut preferences? Anything you especially want to see or any info you'd like me to know? Hope you have a great day!💖

Heyyy!! Thank you for sending me this ask, and please don't apologize, it’s all good 💖 I hope you're having a great day too! So I’ll just jump in and answer all your questions ✌🏾✨

I am so so sorry it got this long, like so long, I really tried to condense it, but I have no concept of short and concise so now I have to put this below a cut 😭🙃😭

All time favourite tropes:

[see here's the thing I dont exactly *know* what tropes are so I'm just gonna yeet a bunch of HIGHLY specific prompt-thingies that make me tingle at you and you can do w them what you wish- like take out certain parts you want to use, or base other tropes off of them anything you wish really, even if you choose to ignore all of them I won't be holding it against you dw!]

Ok so I love love the "I was just captured by the bad guys and very harshly uh demanded to sell you out, but I didnt, bc even though I might posture like you’re the scourge of the earth and would gladly see you dead, I in fact, do not want you dead and will therefore not be selling you out and will handle mild -emphasis on mild please do not hurt either of my babies too much- torture instead and oops! look at that, you just overheard this exact exchange where I stand my ground and refuse to betray you, and now you’ve gone feral over your loyalty kink and are spouting promises of never letting go of me, which honestly I cannot bring myself to be mad at."

I love love love the forced bedsharing trope which then leads to accidental cuddling, where one party [caroline] is just very very annoyed that their body sought the warmth of a cockroach fucknugget being [klaus] and the fucknugget party is just very very smug about being the other party's personal space heater, and nuzzles them and cuddles tighter and asdfghjkl I'm getting tingly just thinking about it, and like says w a husky sleepy voice “don't move” and cuddles closer. jfc please I’m a basic bitch with very basic wants.

I absolutely LOVE the "we work on opposite enemy sides, but now we have to band together to defeat one common enemy and honestly I am NOT glad that I constantly wanna throw you against a wall, and not all reasons for said wall-throwing are strictly to inflict violence on you."

I also LOVE the "fuck youre bleeding/hurt/injured and fucking hell I dont know why my hands are shaking while I attend to your wounds but god it is, and now I'm not sure exactly how deep you've furrowed into my heart and stuck yourself there like a dickheaded leech."

Now I feel like I have given you many tropes, but I also feel like i didnt in fact help you at all, bc I'm not sure these are uh tropes?? but anyway those are some highly specific...scenes?? I have a very deep bias for

[you obviously dont HAVE to write ANY of them if you dont want to]

And also if I had to give you a clear cut trope to follow, I absolutely LOVE the enemies-to tentative allies-to lovers trope, in which one party is just working really really hard to get to the lovers part, and the other is working really really hard not to get to the lovers part, but caves later on, bc really the fucker grows on you. [Featuring Klaus as the "high key besotted already pursuing Caroline"-person, and Caroline is the "I am very very annoyed w this wooing, but I am more annoyed this wooing is working"-person. And also, I like my Klaus E V I L, But really really really *soft* for Caroline.]

Also if by tropes you meant settings, Like AU's, literally anything works, I have a personal bias for Crime AU's when it comes to enemies to lovers, and Canon is the ultimate enemies to lovers AU, but honestly you can use which ever one you want, I am not entirely sure myself if I have a specific preference here, AH, Fantasy, Supernatural, Scifi, it's all good.

[I however am not extremely fond of Historical Settings]

Again you are not required to follow any of these tropes at all if you don't wish to, I just require you to have a lot of fun writing and love the beauty you write yourself first!

Side pairings:

Ok I LOVE me some Kennett [kol + bonnie] but I also LOVEEE kolenzo [Kol and Enzo], I also am extremely just *heart eyes* at Bonenzo [Bonnie + enzo], but I absolutely DIE for Kennettzo [which is OT3 of Kol Bonnie and Enzo]

Kalijah is also a-ok w me, and I feel like I dont have any other side pairings I'd like die to see I guess. If you choose not to go with these side pairings its perfectly alright.

Caroline Friendships:

Ok this I can answer without rambling like an idiot, I love love love love :

Bonnie + Caroline [like i love this so much it physically hurts me, they both deserve so so so much better]

Kol + Caroline [I will literally touch a frog, and I have a phobia of frogs, to have one full conversation w these two idiots]

Enzo + Caroline [Honestly enzoline brotp makes me wanna sob happy tears bc they are so perfect together]

Katherine + Caroline + Rebekah [bad bitch meets head bitch meets super bitch, what could possibly go wrong]

Tropes and Pairings I dont like:

NOTPS:

Kolvina, stebekah, delena, stelena, datherine, steferine, Haylijah, Marcel+Rebekah, Matt+Rebekah, Bamon, Kai+bonnie, beremy.

And I think that's about it? mostly I just hate elena stefan damon and hayley and I am not fond of them w anyone, I hate all canon Rebekah relationships, and I dont like seeing Bonnie with anyone other than enzo or kol.

Tropes:

I am totally not fond of the Kill Liz for plot reasons trope, like seriously killing Caroline's mom is not ok w me, but I am totes fine if she's like already dead as part of Caroline's backstory, just don't show me Liz dying in the story as a part of the plot.

Any form of sire-bond-y or like sire-bond adjacent or like any form of deal/bargain/agreement that gives Klaus even a tiniest bit of power over Caroline's free will and choices, is just not for me, like at all, no matter how well it's done, I can't stand it.

not fond of any form of prisoner/hostage tropes, like klaus kidnapping caroline or caroline kidnapping klaus and holding each other hostage and stuff like that.

Death as a plot point doesnt work for me? and really I'd prefer if there were no major character deaths at all.

Friends to lovers trope is not for me, childhood friends to lovers trope is definitely not for me.

I don't like any sort of redemption arc really, anything that starts with Klaus as a “bad” dude and ends with him being a relatively “good” dude is not for me.

Any form of infidelity, like ofc especially in between Klaus and Caroline is just [shudder] hard pass, but like I also hate it when Caroline or Klaus cheat on anybody at all.

Also all the tropes and like themes I'm not comfy w that I mentioned in my original Gift Request still stand.

KC Pairing Pet peeves

ok This I can answer easily bc I have like a FEW,

I hate a woobified Klaus so much, like so much, I hate all TO!Klaus characterizations but this one is the worst, absolutely not here for it, I am not here to feel sorry for this mf I want to feel really deliriously GIDDY at how evil he is and how whipped he is for Caroline, but like concentrating on Klaus's manpain is not something I really wanna read.

Caroline excusing Klaus's bullshit, or like being a push over-y “it's ok, I understand why you did it” person is not for me, bc she never was one to begin w, she never did rationalize or justify Klaus's behaviour, she always held him accountable and told him what a difficult son of a bitch he is every chance she got.

I don't like arcs where Caroline is Klaus's redemption? like Caroline bringing Klaus into the "light" or whatever I am not here for it, like at all, I like Klaus staying evil while being endlessly in love with Caroline, and Caroline being able to be w a man she knows is a selfish evil ruthless grade A asshole, but will literally also choke himself to death for Caroline, cuz the man is whipped as fuck.

I also absolutely am not a fan of arcs where like Caroline remains "pure" or whatever, like that's just not for me, I am totally fine, actually MORE than fine for ruthless Caroline who is willing to do deplorable shit to get to her goal and protect her people, like Caroline being extremely almost evilly pragmatic just gives me a boner, and pretty sure gives Klaus one too. Klaus "protecting" Caroline's so called innocence is uh off putting for me personally. And her remaining this pure white light princess of good and Klaus being attracted to the *good* in her is um, nope.

Smutty Preferences

Honestly I’m very easy when it comes to smut [and u totally dont have to write me any if you dont want to]

I do not like:

non con/dub con, anal sex, Strict and/or elaborate Bdsm themes, [light undertones are ok], drunk sex, sex that’s basically infidellity [like caroline/klaus cheating on someone else w each other] , gagging, choking, Extremely rough emotionless sex, sex as a bargain, or as a part of a bargain.

Smut preferences:

I like reading oral sex, especially Klaus going down on Caroline

light bondage like being tied up [either Klaus/Caroline I enjoy both]

Sex toys are really really good, like love reading Klaus using one on Caroline, or Caroline using one on herself and Klaus watching

I do have a special love for praise kink, especially Klaus being really just in awe of Caroline during the do and expressing it uninhibitedly

Dirty Talk is GREAT

I enjoy both Klaus and Caroline in a dominant role, but I usually love it when both of them share the dominance equally, I’m just not into “Yes master” and “Yes mistress” level of dominance. I guess the word I’m looking for is Vanilla dominance lmao.

Bloodplay is also great if they're vampires.

And Klaus and Caroline leaving marks on each other is *swoon*.

I love reading possessive!klaus and possessive!caroline in equal measure so really your choice.

Hot and Dirty sex with a an undercurrent of emotion and devotion, want and need and all that nice stuff is great!

But I do have a list of words I’m not really a big fan of coming across when I’m reading smut:

Any word for vagina that’s not wetness, or folds or lips, is squicky, cunt is not a problem, pussy however is squick.

Clit is clit; little nub, bundle of nerves, all of that makes the med student in me really anxious lmao.

Any word for Cock that’s not cock is squick.

Juices, cream, semen are squicky, I just prefer come or release.

Ok these are seemingly innocent words but moist, engorged, gaping, drooling, sopping are not words I like seeing in context of smut.

So yeah that’s about it, I know hi, it’s been what, eleventy bajillion years since the beginning of this ask, I am so so so sorry for being this difficult, and really, LIKE SERIOUSLY, except for my squicks you are more than welcome to just skip past everything else, since I’m not really that hard to please, as long as the no-no’s are not there in what I read and the dynamic I asked for is even just vaguely followed I will be really really really happy and really I just want you to have fun writing whatever you feel like cooking up, I’m superrrr excited to see your interpretation of my request!!!

[Also Please please send me another ask clarifying you got my answer and also telling me I haven't frightened you with this long ass rambling list of okay’s and no-no’s bc honestly I am just anxiously debating if I should answer this ask like this or yeet half of it and vaguely rewrite the answer.]

Hope you have a great day lovely!! I am once again sorry for being this difficult. ✨💖🤝🏾

[uwua3]

that taichi headcannon for jealousy broke my heart :( could you do one where he finds another person? one that makes him laugh, ruffles his hair, games with him etc~ a happier one!

oh no!!! i’m so sorry here u go *offers u a new, super cool heart that is angst–proof* ♡ yes, i definitely want taichi to find ~ love ~ like he deserves because he’s such a puppy 🥺 i adore him endlessly so him having a happy alternative is Required Immediately!

summary: love came in many forms—including platonic best friends

warnings: heartbreak, unrequited love

author’s note: i actually went a bit more different route with this! i know this prompt typically means a romantic love, but i didn’t really feel like it would fit. this is a best friend! reader x taichi, and i am so happy with the message in this! go best friends!!!

love is love and you shouldn’t have to rush into a relationship to find it. your friends love you, and although it’s not the same, it’s more than enough ♡ love isn’t just what you do for others, so don’t try so hard to be loved. people will love you for you, not whatever romantic movie–based idea you have of them. i hope you know you are loved. i love you ♡

word count: 2,106

music: ily (i love you baby) – surf mesa ft. emilee

a skater gets back up.

🍁🛹 nanao taichi

taichi missed being in love

he missed writing all those heart–shaped love letters made of pink construction paper and his exaggerated, overwhelming feelings with red pen. he’d write their name in pretty cursive that took so many tries, he dotted the i’s with hearts, he color–coded it so well that it was just an explosion of valentine’s day

he missed dedicating his favorite songs to them, hearing it randomly in his shuffled mix and immediately thinking of them. he missed explaining what the songs meant, feeling all types of love when he repeated them over and over again

he missed creating playlists with them in his mind, forming it so it flowed perfectly and it was like he handcrafted the album himself. he missed sending the link and listening to it on repeat like a lovesick fool

he missed sending good morning/night texts, putting all his time aside just to fall head over heels again like he was on his skateboard. taichi knew he was a good boyfriend, that he loved with all of his heart and his feelings were real. but, he missed all of it, he missed love so much. taichi needed love

(it was so fucked up, but taichi sometimes listened to all the music he dedicated to them at night and stared up at his dark bedroom ceiling, crying just wishing he didn’t break it off. that he kept the toxic relationship going for just a bit more, just for the attention. he missed them)

so, taichi knew what he had to do. he actively started looking for love, not caring if he was going to get hurt again or if his heart was weak and broken from his last situation

(taichi’s reliance on love was so unhealthy, that even his friends got tired of his whining and eventually stopped communicating back when he went on a rant again)

(taichi didn’t mind, his dependency and need to be someone’s and be their one & only was too strong for him to even consider any other rational solution)

but you, you came out of no where

taichi was busy scrolling through his instagram following list, trying to find out if anyone cute was single. he could slide into their DMs with a fun message, be as enthusiastic as possible to avoid being left on seen. he was considering if he should start a digital conversation as he rode home from school

(he wasn’t the best multitasker. taichi was skating to the dorms, texting on his phone without looking up. he was casually skating before bam! he hit a curb, tumbling to the pavement as his phone flew a few feet away)

taichi groaned, knowing he was going to get scolded and laughed at by autumn troupe the moment he showed up to the dorms like he lost in a fight. as he moved to lay on his back, taichi rubbed his eyes as the sunlight was suddenly blocked from his vision

taichi opened his eyes and looked up, you were looking over him with wide, concerned eyes as you were saying something about first aid and asking if he was okay. taichi just blinked, not hearing you over the ringing in his ears as he stared at your face

you were cute! this could work, taichi just had to say some clever pick–up line you’d like. you would maybe find it so witty that you’d give him your number, you two would walk, form a momentary bond where he’d fall in love, and then you’d leave. taichi couldn’t believe fate finally recognized he needed a partner so it made him fall for them instead (literally)

taichi was about to open his mouth before you took his hand and pulled him up, helping him stand and he stared at your face, trying to process the situation. why were you helping? were you interested? did you want to go on a date? taichi blushed, never having someone ever be this direct to him

in reality, taichi’s sense of perception and reading between the lines was so warped. taichi romanticized his entire life, the way you touched his arm and made sure a completely random stranger was okay. this had to be the universe’s calling! but really, he just fell in love with everyone he met and pretended like his soulmate was out there

(maybe, this was all just an elaborate game to prove to himself that someone could love him. maybe, taichi just wanted to be worthy of someone’s love)

last time, he purposely fell off his skateboard to get a person’s attention. but this time, you were the one who came over to help. maybe, this could be different

“hey, hey! are you okay?!”

when the ringing subsided and he could pick up on your voice, taichi kicked his board up and swung it in his open backpack, putting his free hand out as he grinned like he didn’t just embarrass himself in front of you

“nanao taichi, great to meet you!” he exclaimed, smiling like his elbows weren’t scraped or his uniform was in desperate need of an ironing. he had a dull headache and he needed an ice pack for that bruise on his hip, but he looked so happy

you carefully took his hand, shaking it as you warily wondered how could someone be this happy after crashing like that (it was honestly a wreck, he looked like he could’ve died from the way he landed)

you said your name and the rest was history as he picked up his phone, wincing at the cracked screen, as he asked for your number

from there on, it was the start of a healthy friendship. at first, taichi tried to force this image he had onto you, convinced the timeline was basically telling him he had to do everything in his power to fall in love. but you shut him down quickly, emphasizing you guys were only friends and you weren’t about to risk this great friendship for some fling taichi wanted

honestly, it was for the best. taichi respected your boundaries and backed down (especially after you were adamant on not entering a fake relationship for the attention). when taichi took off his rose–tinted glasses and realized not every relationship he had meant pursuing some fantasy of love only he could imagine, your friendship with him became even better

taichi wrote you letters when he genuinely meant them, not because he felt like he was obligated to. sometimes, when he was so appreciative of how much you were there for him, he wrote pages of what you meant to him. they weren’t heart–shaped, but it had even more meaning because you actually read them and ruffled his hair, saying he was the bestest friend ever

you loved it! even though, he didn’t try as hard as he always did. he wrote your name normally, but you still smiled when you read it. he didn’t dot his i’s with hearts, but you still joked about how messy his handwriting was, and it didn’t bother him! it wasn’t perfect nor a representation of his lovey–dovey heart, but you loved it more than anyone else he ever did it for in his past

(his heart swelled with pride, not because he did something romantic, but because it made you happy. taichi was happy you felt loved, and were loved. was that the true purpose of letters? taichi didn’t think he could’ve wrote letters that were just plain without all the love clichés in the world, but you enjoyed them just the same without the flowery language)

taichi even sent you songs he knew you would love. you always listened to them, even sent back feedback about what you liked. but, taichi didn’t think it was romantic in any way. you appreciated that he took his time to send you something he associated with you. you always sent one back, but it wasn’t random, he always had on repeat whatever you chose because it fit him so well

he even remembered the first time he created a playlist for you on your birthday, selecting the same amount of songs as your age with thoughtful consideration. but this time, he didn’t go overboard and nitpicked at every single beat and rhythm. he just picked songs that made him think of you in a random order, and you still loved it. you even sent a video of you listening to it and shooting a thumbs up to the camera

(taichi’s heart doubled in size. you knew him so well! you knew what he liked and always paid attention to his likes & dislikes just like he did with you! you put in just as much effort with him, you really tried in this friendship and it wasn’t for the gifts he’d shower his future significant other with)

taichi always said good morning/night to you, but you didn’t yell at him when he forgot sometimes. you always said it back and even texted him first on occassion

(his heart was truly overwhelmed with all the subtle love you showed him. for once in his life, taichi felt like this was love. but he didn’t have to follow every romance movie’s rules or imitate every protagonist ever to get that love, all he did was be his true, authentic self)

taichi stopped himself from forcing love onto everyone he met. on nights when he felt like texting his ex again, or rekindling old relationships that didn’t work out for a reason, you stayed up with him, reminding him how much pain he went through and he couldn’t just put himself through hell again

taichi had to accept not everyone was his soulmate–to–be, that maybe this wasn’t his time to be in love. it took so much time to know that he’d rather be in love for a very long time than in short bursts

(not because it was more romantic, but he deserved a long–term, stable relationship that wasn’t just him begging for validation)

you taught him he was more than the people who played him in the past. he couldn’t sink to their level and start messing around just for the satisfaction, he would fall in love with someone right and it would be all worth it

(you two even once got into an argument. when taichi was going on and on about wanting a partner, you cut him off angrily, frustrated he wasn’t listening to your pleas for him to stop. you were so confused why he kept doing this to himself on purpose and if he was going to turn into some player. he kept ignoring you, whining about some partner before you gave up, telling him you couldn’t handle it today)

(that’s what it took for him to snap back to reality, taichi apologized immediately and tried his best to avoid ranting so much. at the end, you were always right and wanted the best for him. taichi had to accept that)

you provided taichi with real love that wasn’t because because he did all these romantic things, it was because you liked him for him. he stopped trying to see you as a potential lover and loved you as a friend, and that was more than enough

taichi had skateboarded to your house, rapidly knocking on your door as you came outside to see him with a boquet of flowers and your favorite candy. your heart dropped, oh no, was he about to confess when you made it clear—

“i love you.” taichi said, passing you the gifts as you stood shocked. you couldn’t believe it, you told him numerous times you two would never be in a relationship like this... you were about to object, reprimand him before he burst out laughing, holding his stomach as he hopped off his board

“oh my god! your face!!!” taichi hollered, trying to contain himself as you smacked his head with your boquet. you were genuinely so freaked out but breathed a sigh of relief once you saw he looked at you the same as before. taichi wasn’t in love with you, but—

“i just came to say i love you, as my best friend. i love you, and you taught me real love. i love you.”

your best friend, taichi, smiled just like that day he fell off his skateboard and scraped up his entire body. you hoped he never changed and stayed the same romantic nutcase as before, but for the right person

as you hugged him, taichi realized he didn’t need a relationship. he needed love, and his best friend was more than enough

[nctsiren]

🌹🍒 🔥 🍑 🧡🌳🌠🔮💜🌸🌺 for Evie sorry again for how many there are

madam do NOT apologize!! i def went overboard w answers but!! hope u like guysss~~

🌹: evie is charismatic asf and finds it super easy to befriend people!! that doesn't mean she tries to befriend everybody, though- in fact, she's picky with friends (that sounds bad i promise it isn't) because The Vibe Needs To Be Right. people can piss her off but she never makes enemies- however, she'll speak up if someone is bein ridiculous or annoying, so people will get mad with HER. she doesn't have anyone she hates, she's chill. nd she can talk to anyone at a party- but if she isn't into it, she'll vibe on her own or do what she wants.

🍒: evie doesn't really expect things from people persay- she just wants to be treated kindly, fairly, and she wants people to show her respect. and the people she's friends with/in romantic relationships with are the same way, because the people she surrounds herself with are also of that mindset. in friendships, she wants a friend, y'know? healthy friendships, fun, vibing, etc. in romantic relationships, she doesn't have a type, really, and she likes to mesh with people depending on the situation. she is versatile in many senses and can get with all the love languages. she just wants either fun (she doesn't strictly date to marry or anything) or love (again depending on the person). she isn't demanding, nor is she a doormat.

🔥: (am answering the likes nd dislikes from the prompt only cuz brain is mush today) evie wears dark colors (like 80% of the time) but loves all colors- she's an artist, after all. she hates the way gravel and sidewalks feel on her bare feet, but she loves being barefoot, so she'll overlook it. socks make her feet feel too restricted. she likes feeling free, and although she will wear anything as long as she's feeling it, she likes loose things when she's relaxing. she likes to walk around with minimal clothing- but, like, i mean underwear and a big shirt, or loose pants and a sports bra. she likes feeling air on her skin. she listens to ALL music, but she's really into indie, britpop, 70s, and other shit i can't think of words for. mainstream bops & also really obscure shit- putting her music on shuffle is like whiplash tbh. nd she LOVES snowy weather oh my god she thinks all weather is gorgeous (she will see beauty in literally anything, she LOVES nature) but cold weather smells good and something about snow awakens this beautiful wonder in people- evie ADORES that

🍑: her room. listen evie isn't a homebody or anything, but her room is her creative space. and london, of course, where she grew up, but that's a bit more... broad. hmm... another is this little meadow she found (in england) where sh would go to sketch, nap, meditate, listen to music, and just lay in the sun. she feels a little bad about it, but that's what she misses most from home- tied w her missing her little brother and sister (they're nine and twins). her meadow, to her, was like. the freedom to just exist and observe and enjoy. sometimes she's confused why she chose idol life- it's restrictive, and not really her style- but tbh she enjoys it and wouldn't change it. anyway on the flip side, evie HATES being in really tall buildings. she isn't even afraid of heights!! i mean she can handle it, it's not too big of a deal, she just hates it for some reason.

🧡: honestly, evie doesn't have a singular favorite person... she loves all of her family, her members, her friends. but it is worth noting that mila is her best friend. she's close to all the girls, and a lot of the guys (hyuck, lucas, ten, yuta, taeil, taeyong, johnny, hendery, yangyang in particular) OH AND KRIS (as in kris wu, her cousin) SHE LOVES HIM. but mila is just. basically her other half LMAO their bond is crazy and they're truly bff's, ride-or-dies, despite their differences. they bring out the best in each other. nd she doesn't hate anyone- the people she actually dislikes tho are certain members and people in the industry/company that are like. the corporate ones ig

🌳: T/W- TOXIC PARENTS, MENTAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE, MENTIONS OF WEED

evie has always had a strong self identity (for the most part) and has def gone through some shit (gifted kid burnout too omfg she was in advanced EVERYTHING but that shit kinda wears you out and her parents were horrible with school & her career). her biggest issues growing up? the pressure from her parents and basically just them shitting on her. they were mentally/emotionally abusive and she was really depressed during her adolescence. she doesn't have clinical depression or mental illness tho. she also didn't have MANY friends because her parents were horrible and wanted her to study nd not be a disappointment- which they said a lot. she started going out regardless when she was a lil older- not even sneaking out, just straight up walking out. her parents literally DRUG TESTED HER. but she is a social, bold person by nature so she wasn't having it. she has a higher sense of self worth now because of how far she has come and she doesn't bat an eye at her parents- in fact, she's mostly cut off from them. she's in SUCH a better place in her adulthood, in korea. her parents still don't support her career choice and do NOT stream ddd >:( she just worries about her little brother and sister... if they get the same treatment as she did, she WILL go batshit. she calls her siblings a lot, facetimes them, sends gifts and money- they love her and she is ITCHING to see them again. she was always close to them. anyway, she'd tell her younger self to not give a fuck about what her parents said, as much as it hurt. you can CHOOSE your family. she'd tell little evie to pursue her passions, and that she was gonna be doing great things one day. nd she'd tell teenage evie to smoke more weed 😌

🌠: evie's first friend was this kid from first grade who she doessn't remember anything about, she just remembers that they were her friend for a bit, and their face LMAO. she hasn't really lost contact with people persay? like during her nine months of training she couldn’t talk to them HEH and then apologized and it picked right back up. her girls in london MISS HERRRR and she misses them too :(

🔮: star gazing or cloud watching? hand-holding or snuggles? early mornings or late nights?

💜: music or silence? swords or spells? cities or nature?

🌸: her voice sounds like yuqi's (her face claim, if no one knew) in terms of singing and speaking! deep and charming and lovely. she's also... pretty loud. her laugh is also like yuqi's, but the specific laugh that's like BIG and it's like a barking(?) laugh. she laughs with her whole ass body too. OH YEAh BUT her speaking voice is yuqi's, like i said, but with a british accent. the london accent.

🌺: she doesn't have any birthmarks, and she only has little scars from various stupid shit she has done (idk if anyone remembers but in her profile i said she loves adrenaline, is kinda reckless, and will do any dare). she doesn't have any tattoos YET but is planning some (just wait omfg lily is a BIG tattoo/piercing person- her stuff is coming soon, evie is HYPED ASF to get her tattoos, and hyeyoung has a few- getting more too)

TAGLIST: @aqueenieme @moonbeamsung @atinygracie @jinsoulorbitzen12 @btshook @1-800-enhypenbibi

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Debut || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || you’re twenty years old, a full-time uni student, and you’re living out of home. money is tight. so, naturally, you decide to sell your virginity to the highest bidder. when you get an offer from some guy in his mid-thirties, you put on your nicest dress and head on over. but there’s a problem: he has no idea who you are, or why you’ve turned up at his house at nine o’clock at night. maybe things aren’t going to be as simple as you’d hoped. modern day au.

rating || explicit, with fluff dotted throughout. 18+ only. do not read if you are under eighteen. the age gap between reader and roger is sixteen years.

word count || about 17.7k.

author’s notes || welcome one and all to my very first fic on this blog! i pictured roger circa ‘85 (specifically live aid) for this fic. this fic is also dedicated to my friend and fellow mid-thirties-Roger enthusiast Jennifer @mrfahrenhcit (i couldn’t find a way to work in everything you asked, but i’ve saved some of them for the next roger fic that’s in the works). fun fact: this is the first reader fic where i’ve used ‘Y/N’. some people have said they’d had issues with this post being extremely slow to load, or the app has crashed - i think it’s just bc it’s so long, and i apologise for the inconvenience.  [i am a proud member of the anti-cross-tagging club.]

masterlist

     You don’t think you’ve ever felt more nervous before in your entire life.  You’ve wiped your sweaty palms on your dress ten times in the past two minutes, and your heart hasn’t stopped racing from the moment you woke up this morning.

    What are you doing? Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?

    Well, that’s the thing. You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing.

    You aren’t doing it out of embarrassment, or anything to do with pride. You don’t feel pressured, not by anyone, not even by society, fuck society, but you saw some dumb article about it – it was hardly even an article, just gossip – and it gave you the idea, and then you were doing some research about it, just for the money, it’s just for the money, you’ve been living out of home for two years now and life’s still kicking you in the ass, so why wouldn’t you do it for money, if you could? And you can. So you went onto some website and snooped around to check for at least some sign of legitimacy, and then, well, you were making an account, and you made an account, and uploaded some photos that you never thought you’d upload to the Internet, and, a couple weeks later, you found out that someone had chosen you. Chosen you.

    And now here you are.

    On your way to a strange man’s house.

    To lose your virginity to him.

    Because he’s paid for it.

    Well, he’s paid half. The other half comes… after.

    And you’re not nervous about the actual sex part, you suppose, but more about the fact that you’re going to a stranger’s house for sex. Does that make you a sex worker? Could you call someone who played guitar in one gig and got paid for it, but never got paid for it again, a musician?

    Probably. But maybe that isn’t the best comparison.

    You don’t know much about this guy. Just his address, his name, his age – thirty-six, could be worse, to be fair – and that he’s obviously got plenty of cash to spare. And he’s definitely not the sort of guy you want to have around. Seeing as, y’know, he’s paid a twenty-year-old virgin to have sex with him.

    The Uber pulls up to a stop in front of a house. It’s dark outside, almost nine in the evening, so the house is hard to make out, but it’s quite a nice place, very white-picket-fence. Something out of a magazine catalogue about the suburbs. You thank your Uber driver and grab your oversized handbag, climbing out of the car.

    You close the door behind you.

    The Uber drives off.

    And you’re alone on the sidewalk.

    You hoist the handbag onto your shoulder. It’s got a couple of things you think you’ll need – condoms, lube, two change of clothes depending on what this guy is after. You think you look more than nice enough in your heels and tight, black dress, but just in case.

    You glance at your phone, double-checking the address. You send a quick message to your best friend Justine: at the house. will keep u updated.

    She’s the only one who knows; and she only knows because you figured that at least someone should know, if something goes wrong.

    Good God, you’re hoping nothing goes wrong. Not in that way. Not in any way, really.

    And again, you’re back to asking yourself what the fuck you’re doing.

    You take a deep breath, and start heading up the front path.

    Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the front step, but you force yourself to raise a fist and rap your knuckles on the door. The automatic porch light is yellow, and you can’t help but feel irked by how unflattering it is.

    You can hear movement inside the house. A part of you is searching for the sound of kids, although God forbid there’s any to be heard. But a guy like this… Well, your first conclusion is that he’s looking for an affair.

    You really don’t want to be some kind of mistress. But, you suppose, this is really just a business transaction, so you’re free of at least most of the guilt, right? All of it, if you actually have no idea if he’s married.

    Please don’t mention your wife, you pray. Don’t implicate me or whatever.

    Finally, the door opens, and you feel like you’re about to throw up your heart onto your feet. But you push it down, and drink in the man in front of you.

    If you weren’t sure before if he was a dad, now it’s unmistakable. He’s slim, and reasonably tall – not remarkably so, but still tall – and he’s dressed in loose jeans and a blue flannel that he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is blond, sort of shaggy, sort of spiky, like he spends his time running his hands through it. You idly wonder what it’d feel like in your hands. Guess you’ll find out soon enough.

    But the thing that really knocks your socks off is the big blue eyes that blink at you, framed by eyelashes that you’d kill to have yourself. Those eyes flash down to your outfit, and then back up at your face.

    Okay. Maybe this whole thing won’t be that bad at all.

    You give him your most winning smile. “Hi,” you say in a way that you hope is both alluring and professional.

    He blinks at you again. “Hi,” he says, his eyes wide. His gaze flits up and down your body, like he’s trying to compute what he’s seeing in front of him. “Um, hello. What, uh– Can I help you?”

    His voice is soft, softer than you were expecting. Gentle, almost.

    You lick your lips and shift your feet. “I’m, ah, Mandy. Are you Roger? Taylor?” Your name is fake, of course. You’re not sure about his. Not that it matters.

    “Yes, that’s me,” Roger says. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh, I’m sorry, you’re, um, lovely, but I don’t think I know you.”

    Huh. Odd. Is this a foreplay thing? “We have an appointment. You booked me two weeks ago, and you gave me this date and this time,” you prompt unsurely.

    Roger’s brow crumples. “An… appointment?”

    You feel your face starting to heat up. You almost ask if you have the right address, but no, you already know that he’s Roger Taylor, he’s the one who booked, so you must have it right. “Yeah,” you say. “You, um…” You lower your voice a touch. “You already paid in advance. This is pretty much a done deal, but I’m just here to fulfil my end of the bargain. And then, of course, you’ll have to pay me the other half.”

    Roger’s starting to look a little pale now, and you’re not quite sure what to do with that. His eyes dart down to your outfit and back up to your face. “Pay you?” he says. “I’ve– what? I’ve paid you? What did I pay you? When?”

    Now you’re both embarrassed, and confused, and well, this isn’t something you’d pictured going wrong.

    You suddenly feel very exposed in your tight dress and heels.

    “Uh.” You scratch behind your ear. “Like, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve booked me, and I’m here. And it wasn’t a small sum of money, so I doubt you’d want to…”

    Roger’s mouth opens, and then closes, and opens again. “Oh, shit, hang on,” he says, his voice flat, “did I… Was this all booked and arranged two weeks ago on the Friday night?”

    “Yes,” you say. “Why?”

    Roger sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he moans. “For God’s…” He raises his head, and sighs again. “Look, um, Mandy, there’s been a big misunderstanding. I, um, went through a divorce, er, relatively recently, a few months ago, and I’ve been doing a bit of wallowing, I guess you could say, and my friends tried to cheer me up a fortnight ago on Friday by bringing round a few bottles of very nice whiskey and gin. I don’t remember a lot of that night, but, now that you mention it, I have some vague memory of my friends trying to get me to, you know, ‘move on’, and, um, I think they might have looked up… people online.”

    Your ears are really burning now. “Oh,” you say.

    “That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Roger adds. “You’re a…”

    “Not really,” you blurt. “Kind of. It– oh, man.” You bite your bottom lip, hesitating, not quite sure how much to reveal about the situation. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Yes, I’m… from a website. But I’m not – this isn’t a living, or a side gig, or whatever. Not that it would matter if I was, because there’s nothing wrong with…” You shake your head. Stay on track. “It’s just a one-off. You paid me to… to take my virginity.”

    You swear you can see Roger’s soul leaving his body in that moment. “You– I what?”

    You shrug helplessly.

    Roger takes a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

    “I’m sorry for the confusion,” you say, and your stomach sinks further when a realisation comes to you. “I…” You swallow. Your mouth is dry. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t – The money you gave me. I’ve done this to help pay bills and rent and everything, and it’s already been used. A chunk of it, anyway. I can’t refund you. I’m really sorry.”

    “No, God, don’t apologise,” Roger says. “You weren’t to know.” He shakes his head. “Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.” He looks to you, and warily inspects your face. “How old did you say you were?” His voice is small, like he’s scared of the answer.

    “Twenty,” you reply, and his shoulders sag in relief.

    “Thank God,” he says. “I mean, still, you’re so young, but at least you’re…”

    “An adult?”

    He nods, grimacing sheepishly. “I really am being honest when I say I don’t remember much of that night. My mates aren’t those sorts of people, but, well, who knows what they’d try to pull when they’re pissed.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say. “I look young for my age. But I am twenty.”

    “No, I believe you,” Roger says quickly. “I’m not… No.”

    You wipe your palms on your dress again. What now? Do you just go home? That wasn’t the cheapest Uber ride you’ve ever had. You were kind of relying on that extra money.

    Roger seems equally at loss. “You– Did you have to travel far?”

    “Not that far,” you say. “Forty minutes-ish.”

    “Fuck,” Roger says. He puts his hands on his hips, and then drops them again. “What time is it? It’s nearly nine, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, about nine.”

    “It’s late. You should be getting home.”

    Your heart sinks. Wow. Okay. This is really just over like that. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you say. You take half a step back. “I’m really sorry about the– the, um, whole mix-up thing. And sorry about your divorce.”

    Great. Real smooth.

    “Thanks,” Roger says. He hesitates, and you’re about to turn and head back down the driveway, when he says, “How are you getting home? Did you drive?”

    “Uh, no,” you say. “Uber.”

    “Uber? God, no, sod that,” Roger says. “Let me…” He fumbles for something in his back pocket, but comes up empty. “Let me pay for it. I don’t– Can I pay you for it?”

    “It’s all right,” you reassure him. “You’ve already given me– it’s okay.”

    “No, please, I insist,” he says. “Should I– cash? I can give you cash. Or… transfer…” He rolls his eyes at himself, those pretty blue eyes that shouldn’t belong to a man his age, but somehow suit him perfectly. “God,” he mutters. “I usually have things more together than this, I promise. I’ve just been caught beyond off-guard.”

    “Sorry,” you say again.

    “It’s not your fault, really, I don’t– How could I blame you? You had no idea. I am going to murder my friends.” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “Um. Okay. I’ve paid you before, haven’t I, if you got the deposit? How did I do it? I can just do it that way again.”

    “You transferred it to me,” you say. You shift in your heels. Your feet are starting to ache.

    “Let’s do it that way again, then,” Roger says. “I’ll just get my phone, sorry.”

    “It’s okay, really,” you say yet again, stopping him. “Don’t bother. I’ll– It’ll take me two minutes and then I can be on my way home.”

    Roger hovers, and then says, “Can I– Did you want to wait inside? Or out on the steps? Could I get you some water, at least?”

    You hesitate. “Um–”

    “I’m not trying to do anything,” Roger blurts, and then he shakes his head. “Now it sounds like I am trying to do something. I’m not. Really. If you want, you can just wait here and I’ll go inside and leave you alone.”

    You glance at your phone. You haven’t ordered the Uber yet, but you are pretty thirsty. You look back up to Roger. “Well, I already had it in my head that I was coming here to sleep with you, so I’m not really concerned about you trying anything,” you say. “Some water sounds nice, actually.”

    Roger laughs. Like his voice, it’s unexpectedly soft, and it makes you smile.

    “Um. Yes,” he says, glancing at his feet. “Well. Um, come on in, then.”

    You head back up the path, and Roger steps aside to let you in.

    You slip past him. He smells good.

    His house, on the inside, is just as white-picket-fence as it is on the outside. Not the tidiest, but you suppose he wasn’t expecting company.

    He seems to notice the slight mess the same moment you do, and he hurriedly darts forward to tidy up.

    “Sorry,” he says.

    “No, don’t worry about it,” you say.

    He bends down to grab an empty beer bottle from where it sits on the floor next to the couch. Nice ass.

    Not that it matters. You aren’t sleeping with him anymore. But, to be fair, you are only human. Just because you’re no longer ordering doesn’t mean you can’t admire the menu.

    “I, uh, wasn’t expecting any guests, obviously,” Roger adds, half-jokingly.

    You chuckle, and adjust your dress. Roger’s eyes flash down to your hands, then to your chest where you’ve pulled the dress down a little further in your adjustment, and then he quickly looks away, running his hand along his jaw.

    “Uh, um,” he says. “Water? Um– take a seat, by the way. Feel free to sit…” He gestures vaguely around him. “Sit anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

    “Um, okay,” you say, and hesitate, before awkwardly perching on his couch.

    “Sorry, did you say you wanted water?” Roger says.

    “If you wouldn’t mind,” you say.

    “Yeah, of course,” Roger says, and then disappears into the kitchen.

    You breathe in a lungful of air and slowly let it out. Wow. Talk about an unexpected evening.

    You take out your phone and message Justine. boy do I have a story to tell u.

    She’s online, and she replies immediately. fuck what’s happened?? everything alright??

    You bite your lip, considering how to reply. yeah I’m fine. the guy is super easy on the eyes, but there’s been a mix up and basically I am remaining firmly in the virgin zone for the foreseeable future lol.

    You backspace and try again. yeah I’m fine. long story short I’m coming home. tell u about it when I get there.

    is he ugly?? Justine replies, and you can’t help but smile in amusement.

    oh no, that’s not the issue even a little bit, you reply.

    “I’m assuming tap water is fine?” Roger says, reappearing with a glass of water, making you jump slightly and flip your phone face-down on your leg, as if he could somehow see the screen from across the room. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. I don’t really have anything else.”

    “No, no, tap water is fine, thank you,” you say, and he hands the glass to you.

    You take a sip.

    Roger glances away, seemingly looking for something to do or something to say, as if the answer is written in the walls. He chews on his thumbnail.

    Your mind scrambles to find something to say, but it feels like trying to eat soup with a fork.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks suddenly, looking to you. “I know this is probably completely inappropriate, but… Well, paying for someone to…”

    Your stomach sinks with embarrassment. “Oh,” you say. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Just – could do with the money.”

    “Of course, yeah,” Roger says hurriedly, nodding. “You’re at uni?”

    “Yeah. And living out of home, so.”

    “Right. Yeah, of course, I should’ve guessed. Sorry, that was…”

    “No, it’s fine,” you say with a reassuring smile. You chuckle. “I’m sorry for disrupting your evening like this.”

    “No, no, it…” Roger smiles, and you feel every trace of oxygen leave your lungs, because wow, he’s attractive. “It’s a welcomed interruption, actually.”

    “It is?”

    “Well, all I had planned was to watch something shit on Netflix and drink beer,” Roger says, screwing up his nose. “Not exactly exciting.”

    “Oh, don’t let me stop you,” you say. “Sounds like they were big plans.”

    Roger laughs, and your heart thuds against your ribcage. “The sort of plans that sound much nicer when you have company, I think.” He pauses. “Not that– not that I’m expecting you to–” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Really, I’m not usually this… awkward.”

    “You don’t have to apologise,” you say, shaking your head.

    “I used to be a real ladies’ man, you know,” Roger says. “Back in the day. Before my wi– my ex-wife. And the kids.”

    “Sure,” you say, drawling sarcastically.

    Roger laughs again, a little surprised, but amused. “I was!” he insists. “I was picking up women left and right.”

    “I believe you,” you say lightly.

    Roger grins, and you have to take a steadying breath. “You’ve got a tongue on you, haven’t you?” he says delightedly.

    “So it’s been said.”

    It comes out more suggestive than you’d intended. Roger takes a moment to drink you in, and then he bites his bottom lip, looking away, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, the other one slipping under his shirt, massaging his shoulder.

    Your stomach flips and jumps. You take a sip of water.

    “You sure you’ve never been with anyone before?” Roger says.

    You snort. “That’s a pretty rude question, don’t you think?”

    Roger smiles sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

    You take another sip of water, and then say, “I haven’t slept with anyone, no. I think I’d know if I had.”

    “Right,” Roger says mildly, nodding.

    You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

    “Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

    “You’re thinking very loudly. Is there something wrong with me not having slept with anyone?”

    “No,” Roger says, his eyes widening. “No, shit, that’s not what I was trying to say. It– you just seem… I’m just surprised. That someone like you…”

    You adjust your dress again. Roger’s eyes drop to your breasts again, and back up to your face. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, trying not to preen.

    Roger ponders over his answer for a while. “You just seem to… know what you want.”

    “Oh, you think so?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says noncommittally.

    His eyes find yours, and they stay there. Your heart is racing in your chest now, making your blood feel warm. You’ve been attracted to plenty of people before, but this is really something else.

    Roger clears his throat, breaking away, and you surreptitiously squeeze your thighs together.

    Your phone buzzes on your thigh. It’s Justine. so he’s hot?

    “Is that your Uber?” Roger asks. If you aren’t mistaken, he sounds almost disappointed.

    Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, um, I haven’t actually… I forgot to call it.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. A tinge of relief? “Well, no rush.”

    “It’s just my friend checking up on me,” you add.

    “That’s good of them.”

    “Yeah. Well, actually, she was checking up on me before. Now she’s just–” You open and close your mouth a few times, but decide to be honest. “Uh, she’s just, um, asking about you.”

    Roger quirks an eyebrow, and it’s so hot that you have to look away. “About me?”

    Your phone buzzes again. are you on ur way home now?

    “Uh,” you say, and quickly type out, not yet.

    “What have you told her?” Roger asks, playfully curious.

    You put your phone down, and take a breath, smoothing your hands down your legs, thinking carefully of how to answer. “Just that you seem nice.”

    “Nice?” Roger says.

    “And you’re… Well.” You smirk. “I’m sure you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. No point in boosting your ego too much.”

    Roger steps forward, drawn to you by an invisible string. “I don’t think I understand,” he says faux-innocently.

    “I’m sorry, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that you were pulling girls left and right?” you say, cocking your head.

    “Oh, yeah, when I was twenty,” Roger says. “Not talking about now.”

    “Have you tried?”

    Roger pauses, slightly taken aback by this, and his eyes roll to the ceiling as he thinks, blowing hair out of his cheeks. “You may have a point there.”

    “And I suppose that’s why these friends of yours contacted me?”

    “You… may have a point there,” Roger says again.

    You nod to yourself. “I don’t see why they couldn’t have just taken you to a pub and set you up with someone there. It’d have been a lot cheaper.”

    “They’ve, um…” Roger cards his hand through his hair. “They’ve tried that, actually.” He hesitates, and then walks over to you, sitting down on the armchair near you. “They’ve taken me out a couple of times.”

    “And you’ve struck out?” you ask.

    Roger chuckles. “No. I – well, like you said, I suppose I haven’t really tried. I didn’t want to.”

    “Too soon?”

    “No, it’s not that. It’s…” Roger pulls a face. “I don’t know. Haven’t felt like it, really. Maybe it was too soon. Or maybe the thought of having to try to chat someone up just seemed like so much effort.”

    “Surely it wouldn’t be much effort for you.”

    Roger meets your eyes again, and he smiles slowly, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

    Your phone vibrates. The way Roger’s looking at you makes you wish it was something else vibrating that you could put to good use alone in your room.

    Roger’s eyes flick down to the phone, and back up to your face. “That your friend again?”

    You hesitate, and then flip the phone over. hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    “Yeah,” you say, and put the phone down beside you.

    “You going to answer it?”

    “In a minute.”

    You smooth your hands down your thighs. Roger watches like a hawk.

    Your hands slide back up your thighs.

    He swallows.

    You smile.

    “You, um, you ever…” Roger tears his eyes away from your thighs to look at your face. “Have– have you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

    “Yeah,” you say casually. “Not for a long while, though. And nothing too serious. Nothing as full-on as marriage.”

    Roger laughs, but it comes out sounding a bit strangled. “Yeah. That’s all right, though. That doesn’t matter.”

    Your phone buzzes.

    You ignore it.

    “I never got around to… all of that,” you explain. “Y’know. Fucking.”

    Roger’s face goes slack. “Uh–”

    “I wasn’t waiting for anyone special,” you continue. Your blood feels electrified under his gaze. “Just never quite got there.”

    “Never quite–?”

    You hum. “That’s misleading. I’ve made out with plenty of people, but that’s all. Some over-the-clothes action. Basically nothing, really.”

    Roger looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Uh-huh.”

    “You probably find that hard to imagine,” you say with a wry smile. “Having kids and all. How old were you your first time?”

    Roger blinks, and takes a moment to reply. “Uh, I was sixteen.”

    You laugh. “God, I can’t even picture…” You frown, and shake your head. “It’s hard to picture what it’d be like, you know? The reality of it? You can watch as much porn as you like – and I’ve watched plenty, mind you – but, like, I know that it’s not real. Not realistic, anyway. I’ve spent what feels like ages just trying to picture what is actually is like, but it’s impossible for me to know.”

    “It’s good,” Roger says, and it comes out in a rush, and he looks surprised at himself.

    You feel a thrill go through you. “Good?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says. “Everyone says your first time isn’t good, but that’s only if your partner doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s nice when you have an idea of what you’re doing, too, but that comes with time. And if you have a good teacher.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “But when the chemistry is right, and the mood is right, it’s… good.”

    “That’s descriptive,” you murmur sarcastically.

    Roger huffs a laugh. “What do you want, a detailed explanation? Graphs and illustrations?”

    “A demonstration would be nice.”

    Shit. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. Why the fuck did you say that?

    Your eyes are wide, and you open and close your mouth a few times. “Uh.” Roger looks as surprised as you feel. “Oh,” he says. “Um. Wow. Is– is this part of the…”

    You blink. “Part of the…?”

    “The whole…” He gestures vaguely. “…thing. You being paid to…”

    “Did I just make a complete idiot of myself as part of my attempt to woo you as a kind-of sex worker?” you ask. You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Nope. No. That was all me. Just being a dumbass.” You groan, covering your face. “I’m sorry,” you say from behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing.” This whole night has been nothing but a huge embarrassment. You can’t wait to go home and forget about it, thanks to an unhealthy dose of alcohol.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You lower your hands. “For what?”

    “For – I don’t know. I just felt I needed to apologise.”

    You snort. “You don’t have to apologise for me very clumsily and awkwardly and horribly trying to flirt with you, Roger.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “You’re probably used to seeing that all the time.”

    “Again, not for a very long time,” Roger says. “But I know what horrible and awkward flirting looks like, and… that wasn’t it.”

    “But clumsy, though, right?” you say, screwing up your nose.

    Roger chuckles. “Maybe. But that’s all right.” He shifts in his seat. “I was just as clumsy.”

    You wave a hand, and reach for your phone. It’s high time you called your Uber. And reply to Justine. “You weren’t flirting with me.”

    You re-read the messages from Justine you’re yet to reply to.

    so hes hot?

    are you on ur way home now?

    hellooooo????? wtf is going on????

    Then the new one, from a few minutes ago: for the love of god can u please reply to me. something. anything. I’ll take a solid thumbs-up.

    So you send a thumbs-up.

    When you look up, Roger is staring at you, and you realise he hasn’t spoken since you did.

    You’ve well and truly crossed a line somewhere. You can’t blame him for wanting you out. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m just – my friend. I’ll get the Uber now. Sorry it’s taken me so long.”

    “Don’t,” Roger says.

    You pause. “Don’t what?”

    “Don’t order the Uber.”

    Your stomach bubbles. “Wh– No?”

    “Not yet, at least,” Roger says. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I wasn’t flirting with you?”

    “Why would you be?” you respond automatically.

    “Why would…” Roger shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “Because I’m a random twenty-year-old woman who’s just shown up at your door on a Tuesday night dressed like this talking about how you paid to take my virginity,” you say bluntly. “Which is more than a little off-putting.”

    “Well, all right, I’ll give you that,” Roger says. “But here I am, still trying to clumsily flirt with you nonetheless.”

    You break out into a smile, a bashful one, and duck your head. “Oh.”

    “Oh,” Roger repeats, a touch playfully.

    You glance up at him. He’s smiling at you, pleased with your reaction, and the thought of kissing him flashes through your mind, and you’ve suddenly never wanted anything more. You purse your lips, looking at your hands again, fiddling with your phone, flipping it around and around in your grip.

    “Mandy,” he says gently, and you’re puzzled for a moment before you remember –

    “That’s, um, not my real name,” you tell him with an awkward chuckle. But you really like how he said it all the same.

    Roger looks so embarrassed that you can’t help but laugh. “Here I was, trying to be all suave, and now I look like an idiot,” he says.

    You shake your head. “You don’t. You didn’t know.”

    “I should’ve guessed you weren’t using your real name.”

    “No, it’s fine,” you giggle.

    “Well, am I allowed to know your real name? So I can try again?”

    You hesitate.

    “Unless you don’t want to,” Roger says quickly. “That’s fine. Security, and all. Stranger danger.”

     You laugh again. “Stranger danger? I’m in your house.”

    “I could be a stalker. You don’t know that.”

    Fuck, you’re attracted to him. “Dork,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

    Roger chuckles, his eyes sparkling.

    “It’s [Y/N],” you add.

    “[Y/N],” he repeats, and your breath catches ever so slightly. He pauses, and then comes to sit beside you on the couch, and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he says. “I’m Roger.”

    You giggle, and take his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”

    He’s so close now. He smells amazing, and his hand is warm, and his eyes are so blue, and his lips–

    You realise you’ve been staring at his mouth, your hand still in his, and you glance back up at his eyes before quickly taking your hand back, looking away.

    You tuck your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat. You’re barely aware of your own body – only his, and how close it is to yours. Like there’s a force between the two of you, connecting you. When he swallows and moves his hand back to his own lap, you can feel it as if it’s your own.

    “Do you, um…” Roger takes a breath in, and you feel your chest, your lungs, buzz. “Tell me about yourself a bit.”

    “Me?” you say, looking to him. Oh, wow, he really is close. Fucking hell, you want him.

    “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you do for fun? Stuff like that?”

    You lick your lips, and his eyes dart to the movement. “Um, well, I…” You absentmindedly adjust your dress, and it catches his eye again. “I’m at uni, in my second year. It’s all right. Pretty stressful, obviously, but I like it well enough. I live with two of my friends. I, um… I like… dogs.”

    Roger laughs.

    This is so stupid, you realise. You both clearly want each other.

    You shake your head. “Stupid,” you mutter.

    Roger frowns. “What’s stupid?”

    “This,” you say. You gesture between the two of you for emphasis. “This.”

    “Oh,” Roger says. He shifts away from you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

    You huff. “You’re not.”

    “Then what–”

    “Kiss me,” you cut in.

    Roger stops. “Kiss you?”

    “Yes,” you say, keeping your gaze steady on his. “You’re too damn difficult to resist. So kiss me.”

    Roger hesitates.

    You raise your eyebrows. “Unless you don’t want to?”

    “No, I – I do,” he says. “I just…”

    “What?”

    “I feel like the circumstances… I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this because I’ve paid you to…”

    “I don’t think that,” you say. “And I don’t want your money; this is way beyond that now. I’m not trying to trick you into sleeping with me so I can force you to pay me. I just know chemistry when I see it.”

    Roger chuckles. “I was right,” he says. “You know exactly what you want.”

    You steel your nerves. “Yeah,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I want you.”

    Roger swallows. “But you don’t even know me.”

    “Nope.”

    “And you’re in my house.”

    “Yep.”

    “And I’m so much older than you.”

    “That’s right.”

    “And you’re…”

    “I’m a virgin,” you finish, nodding. “I know. But for the love of God, Roger, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to scream.”

    Roger exhales, shakes his head minutely, and then says, “God fucking damn it,” and leans in to kiss you.

    You immediately shift to press closer towards him, one hand coming to rest against his chest. He kisses you earnestly, but gently, like he’s nervous. Nervous about making you feel pressured, you can safely assume.

    But that’s not what you’re about. You pull back, and, before he can say anything, you climb on top of him, straddling his waist, and kiss him again, more deeply than before. He breaks away just far enough to whisper, “Holy shit,” and then ducks his head to kiss down your throat. You tilt your head to give him more room, one hand against his chest and the other raking through his hair. His hands, rough and warm, smooth up your thighs, and your breath catches. They stop just under the hem of the dress, and a soft whine slips from your throat.

    Roger moans in response. “Jesus Christ.”

    You reach down and grab at his wrists, urging his hands to go further up the dress. “Touch me,” you pant.

    He draws back, and you look down at him, at his slightly flushed cheeks and his ruffled hair, and you want him naked, right now. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “We can just make out, that’s absolutely fine. Just because of… the whole… arrangement…”

    “Roger,” you say slowly, “I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

    He nods, swallowing.

    You cup his face in your hands, boring your eyes into his. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right now.”

    Roger takes a shaky breath. “Are you–”

    “What did I just say?” you cut in. “Not repeating it.”

    Roger smiles, laughing breathlessly. “Bloody hell.”

    You smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “Oh, it most certainly is one, believe me.”

     You lean in to kiss him, and his hands, thank the Lord, slide further up your thighs. You start unbuttoning his shirt, blindly, fumbling a little, and your kisses grow more eager.

    You’ve kissed a number of people in your time. Not a whole lot, but a few. And Roger really takes the damn cake.

    When his shirt is fully unbuttoned, untucked from his jeans, you move your lips down his neck, and he moans, letting his head roll back, his hands shifting to grab your ass, pulling you against him. You can feel the tent in his jeans, and, beyond thrilled, you grind against it, loving how a bolt of arousal shoots through you. Roger’s grip on you tightens, and when you nip at his skin, he spits out, “Fuck.”

    You rock your hips against him again, and he laughs again. “God, it’s been too long.”

    You hum, nipping his throat again and soothing it with your tongue. “How long is too long?”

    “Months. Lost count. Ah, fuck.”

    You pull back, giving him a look, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Try twenty years,” you say dryly.

    Roger shakes his head. “Can’t even imagine.” He kisses you, just once, and then murmurs against your lips, “I promise I’ll make this good for you.”

    You shiver. “I’m sure you will.”

    “I mean it.” He kisses you again, and then sits back, his hands sliding back to your thighs and squeezing them gently. “I want this to be good for you. If I’m going to be your first, I want you to enjoy it. So you have to tell me if I’m doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

    You nod. “Yeah.”

    “I don’t care what it is we’re doing – you can tell me to stop at literally any point, and I will, no questions asked.”

    You nod. “I know, I know.”

    Roger chuckles. “You just really want to get things going, don’t you?”

    “Yes.” You press your lips to his, and, now that you both know where things lie between you, you’re both eager to get to the next step. The kisses quickly become more feverish, hotter, deeper. Roger’s hands go to the back of your dress, working the zipper down your spine, and you shudder at the feeling of it. When he’s done, you sit back to yank it over your head, dropping it the floor behind you.

    Roger’s eyes drink you in, his mouth hanging open. “Whoa.”

    You flush under his gaze. You know you look good – you’d worn your push-up bra and matching lace underwear for a reason – but it’s still a rush to get a reaction like that.

    “Bedroom?” Roger says, his voice a touch weak, and you nod, leaning in to steal one last kiss before climbing off him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. He groans slightly as he does so, and you giggle.

    “I know, I know, I’m old,” he says.

    “No, I like it,” you say, tugging him closer to you and hooking a finger of your other hand through a belt loop on his jeans. “Dad noises.”

    Roger shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on your waist, and you lean into the touch. “Don’t say that,” he grumbles. “Makes me feel even older.”

    “You’re not old,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’re not even forty.”

    Roger laughs. “Ah, yes, a real spring chicken.”

    “Can you stop whining and fuck me already? I’m gonna be forty by the time we get to it.”

    Roger snorts. “Cheeky.” He leans in to kiss you, and you curl your arms around his neck, pressing into him.

    When you break apart, you take Roger’s hand again, and he leads you to his bedroom, both of you stumbling slightly in the dark house. You’re only in your underwear, but you’re still wearing your heels, and you feel like you’re in some kind of Victoria Secret ad.

    Roger keeps glancing back at you, his eyes sweeping your body, and he’s so distracted he almost runs into a wall at one point, and you have to tug on his arm to pull him out of the way, laughing as you do so. He retaliates by pushing you up against the wall and kissing you senseless, his thigh slotted between yours. You’re lightheaded and unbelievably turned on by the time he breaks away again, and it feels like a lifetime before you reach his bedroom. 

    Roger switches on the light.

    The double bed is unmade, but the room itself is fairly tidy, just a pair of shoes and a shirt on the floor. The whole room screams tax-paying adult, and you’re reminded again that the man you’re about to sleep with is, in fact, a proper adult. Not like you, an adult by the loosest terms imaginable, but a fully-grown man with children and a mortgage and a career, probably. A completely different world to yours.

    But none of that will matter when you’re both naked. 

    He closes the door behind him, and then you’re pouncing on him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and all but tearing his belt off. His hands are tight on your hips, and when you undo his belt and the button and fly on his jeans, he pants, “Bed, bed, go sit on the bed.”

    You do as you’re told, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one knee over the other, taking the opportunity to quickly tie your hair back out of your face while and Roger fumbles with the rest of his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and jeans. You can tell that he would’ve been thin as a twig back in the day, and you’d easily call him slender even now, but his body is soft, the sign of a father who’s spent more time taking care of the kids and having a beer in the evenings to wind down than going to the gym. It suits him, looks good on him. You’re certainly a big fan.

    Soon, he’s down to nothing but his boxer-briefs. His boxer-briefs, which are neon green.

    You break out into a grin, and Roger looks down at them, sighing. “Of all the fucking pairs I could’ve put on today,” he mutters.

    “They’re pretty great,” you say, and you make sure you have Roger’s full attention before you uncross your legs, spreading your knees wide, leaning back on your hands, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath them.”

    From the look on Roger’s face, you’d guess his legs are about to give out from under him. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs, and he hurries over.

    Grinning, you scramble backwards on the bed, lying down, and he crawls after you, over you, and his kiss is bruising.

    Your hands are shaking now – with excitement and with nerves, a lot of nerves – but you ignore that, and worm your fingers inside his underwear, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a tug.

    He jerks, and you have a moment of panic where you think you’ve done the wrong thing, but then he kisses you with more fervour, so you do it again. This time, his hand finds yours, gently guiding you away.

    “Did I do something wrong?” you ask.

    Roger looks confused for a moment, and then says, “God, no. I just don’t want to get too worked up before we get to, y’know, the main event.”

    “Oh,” you say, smiling in relief.

    “You really have no experience at all, do you?” Roger says, sounding almost disbelieving.

    “That’s what I’ve been saying,” you say. “It hasn’t all been some elaborate ruse to get into your pants. Literally all I have is some vague, theoretical ideas on how this works. And I know the mechanics. But that’s it. So you’re gonna have to be patient with me.”

    “That’s fine by me,” Roger says. He chuckles. “It’ll make everything I do seem much more magical than it really is.”

    “Sure,” you say mock-condescendingly.

    Roger laughs, and he looks so wonderful when he’s laughing that you can’t help but smile, your hand reaching up to comb through his hair.

    He notices the look in your eye, your smile, and he smiles back in a way that makes your stomach squirm and your fingers and toes tingle.

    He kisses you, and the squirming in your stomach grows into full-blown butterflies, big Amazonian ones, and you begin to have an inkling that, oh no, this could be bad. This could be very bad indeed.

    It’s probably nothing. He’s just hot, and nice, and funny, so you’re excited to have sex with him. That’s it. You’re a duckling that’s imprinted on its mother. Except you’re a human, and Roger’s the first person you’re having sex with, not your mother.

    Not the best analogy you’ve come up with. You can’t blame yourself, though – the way Roger’s kissing you is turning your brain into mush.

    He presses a kiss to just under your ear, and then kisses all the way down your throat, and you tilt your head back. “Feels so good,” you murmur.

    You can feel Roger smile against your skin.

    He keeps going, kissing the hollow at the base of your throat, further down still, and you bite your bottom lip. He presses a kiss to the top of your right breast, and then looks up at you. “Can I take your bra off?”

    You nod eagerly, and he moves back so you can sit up. “Oh, I’ve still got my shoes on,” you said.

    “I’ve noticed,” Roger says, and you chuckle.

    “As super sexy as they are, I do wanna take them off,” you say.

    Roger ducks forward to drop a kiss to your neck, and the butterflies are back, and you can feel your cheeks going pink. You want to hide your face, but Roger’s right there, and you can’t look away from his eyes. “How about you take your bra off,” he says, “and I’ll get your shoes.”

    “You don’t have to take my shoes off for me,” you say.

    “Well, I want to,” he says simply, and shuffles down, climbing off the bed. He gestures for you to shift forward, and you do, until your feet are hanging off the bed, your knees hooked over the edge. Roger gets onto his knees – he makes a dad noise as he does so, and you giggle again – and fiddles with the buckle on one of your shoes.

     You take a moment to watch him, biting your lip, smiling, and then reach behind you and unhook your bra, slipping it from your shoulders.

    He doesn’t look up right away, and you’re thankful for a moment to get your head around the fact that you’ve never been completely topless in front of anyone before. You’re self-conscious about the grooves the bra has dug into your skin, about the way your breasts look without the aid of the push-up, and you almost go to cross your arms over yourself, but then Roger glances up, and his hands go still. “Bloody hell,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

    You tuck your hair behind your ear. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice, unsure how else to respond.

    Roger shakes his head, and focuses back on the shoe, making quick work of it and easing it off your foot, setting it down beside him. He moves onto the other shoe. “Talk about winning the fuckin’ lottery,” he says.

    “I could say the same,” you say.

    Roger stops again, looking to you, and then smiles, looking back to the shoe. His ears have gone red.

    He takes the second shoe off and places it beside the first, then presses light kisses to the inside of your knee. He moves further up your leg, up your thigh, and you realise you’re holding your breath. His arms are curled around underneath your legs.

    Roger looks up at you, his thick eyelashes making him look almost angelic. “Is this all right?” he says. “If I…?”

    He’s asking if he can eat you out. Oh, God, he’s asking if he can eat you out. He wants to put his mouth and tongue there, and maybe his fingers, too, and no one’s ever done that before.

    You nod eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly, as Roger laughs.

    You feel your stomach cave in on itself in embarrassment. “Actually, no thanks,” you say, trying to pull your legs back. “Changed my mind.”

    “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Roger says, still chuckling. He coaxes your legs back to where they were, and kisses your thigh. “It was just the look on your face.”

    “You’re doing a terrible job of wooing me,” you say, aiming for resolute and chastising, but it comes out sounding more weedy and humiliated.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says again, and his hands stroke your legs soothingly. “I am. I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed.” He smiles, a glint in his eye, and you’re momentarily left breathless. “Can I… make it up to you?”

    You can’t help but smile back, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Cheesy.”

    “Thank you,” Roger says. “I’m going to be honest, as fun as this banter is, my knees aren’t going to last forever.”

    You splutter a laugh. “Yes, yes, okay, yes please.”

    Roger surges up off the floor to press a firm kiss to your lips, and you take a moment to wonder just how dodgy his knees really are if he can do something like that, or whether he was just looking for a convenient segue into getting your underwear off. You’re not fussed either way.

    Roger kisses your collarbone, and then pulls back, hooking his fingers into your underwear. “Lift your hips up for me, love?”

    The pet name makes heat pool between your legs. Oh, Jesus.

    “Mm-hm,” you say, hoping it sounds more nonchalant to him than it does to your own ears, and lie back to lift your hips, and he slides your underwear down your legs and drops them near your shoes.

    You expect him to go back to his knees straight away, but he holds himself above you, kissing you, deep and slow, making you whimper into his mouth. One hand holds himself up, and the other one massages your hip, his thumb kneading your skin. Relaxing you, you realise. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, and you’re only partially aware when Roger’s hand moves from your hip to your thigh, brushing over your skin.

    You’re extremely aware, however, when his fingers stroke through your folds for the first time.

    Despite yourself, you jump, and Roger murmurs, “Sorry,” but you shake your head to dismiss his concerns, and pull him in again.

    For a few moments it’s strange, feeling someone’s else hand there, and you’re very conscious of how wet you are, and you wonder if it’s something you should be embarrassed about, but then Roger circles your clit, and suddenly all your worries seem very far away.

    It feels… good. Really fucking good. Roger’s fingers are rougher than yours, but they’re clearly experienced in how they move.

    You push your hips up against Roger’s hand, wanting more, and Roger complies, his fingers moving just a touch more roughly, and he ducks his head to nuzzle at your throat, kissing it, nipping lightly.

    “Oh, God,” you moan to the ceiling, overwhelmed already, and you almost laugh at how surprised you sound. Your hand grips Roger’s hair, and you hope it’s not too hard, but you couldn’t let go if you tried.

    Then Roger’s hand is gone, and you let out a choked sound at the sudden stop. You try to gather your thoughts to ask why, but then Roger is kissing down your body. Oh, man, you think, unable to conjure up anything else, and Roger chuckles, and you realise you said it out loud, but you don’t have time to be embarrassed, as Roger takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth tugging at it, and you gasp.

    “I’ve never… That’s new,” you say weakly, hissing when Roger runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple.

    Roger pulls off to ask, “Do you like it?”

    “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

    “Good.” He goes back to his task, and you arch off the bed slightly.

    “So good,” you breathe. Roger switches to the other nipple, and you moan appreciatively.

    Eventually, both to your dismay and your excitement, he draws away, and presses a single kiss to the space between your breasts. “You’re fucking stunning,” he says, and then he moves back to climb off the bed, setting himself between your thighs.

    You struggle to wrap your head around it. How he could be making you feel this good, and then still compliment you, as if you’ve done anything to deserve it?

    Roger doesn’t waste time talking now. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and then he dives straight in, his tongue nudging your clit as it pushes through your folds. You suck in a sharp gasp, your hand gripping his hair tightly. Your other hand flails, grappling at the sheets as he starts to find a rhythm. You wind up pressing the back of it to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you’re making, trying to gather some sort of control, because right now you feel like you’re falling head-first off a cliff, and Roger has complete power over how you land.

    He does something with his mouth – you couldn’t tell for the life of you what it is – and your hips buck against your will. “Sorry,” you blurt out, and it comes out broken and breathless.

    Roger just adjusts one of his arms, bracing it across your hips, holding you down, and you moan. His other hand joins his mouth, sliding a finger into you. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, and then your hand returns to its position, keeping you somewhat quieter.

    It doesn’t take long before Roger’s working in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you, and the sound of it is so obscene that it makes your face go bright red. You’re climbing towards an orgasm, frighteningly quickly, and when a third finger squeezes in beside the first two, you very nearly come, but the sting of the stretch is enough to keep it at bay.

    But then your body relaxes around the three fingers, and Roger crooks them just so and sucks on your clit, and you move your hand away from your mouth to say in a rush, “I’m– I’m so close, I’m gonna come, fuck, ah, shit,” and then–

    Then Roger is gone, his fingers and mouth are gone, and you’re left teetering on the brink of an orgasm, feeling like the air has been punched out of you.

    “Wh– Roger?” you say, your head a mess. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see Roger still between your legs, but instead he’s massaging your thighs with his thumbs, dropping light kisses to your soft skin.

    He smiles up at you, his nose and chin glistening. “Thought we could try something.”

    You shake your head to try to clear it. “But I was just about to…”

    You can still feel the urge. Another minute, and you’ll be there. But the longer you wait, the more the feeling fades. It makes you want to punch a wall.

    Roger hums. “I know. That’s the point.”

    You frown, trying to wrap your head around it. “You… don’t want me to?”

    “Not yet.”

    It finally clicks. “You’re gonna do that to me a couple more times before you make me come, aren’t you?”

    Roger’s smile widens into a grin. “That’s the plan. If you’re on board.”

    “I’m on board,” you say. “As long as when I do come, it blows my fucking mind.”

    “That’s really the point of it, love.” Roger keeps eye contact with you as he leans forward to press a kiss to your core, and you shudder. “And move your hand away from your mouth. You don’t have to be quiet. The more sounds you make, the better.”

    “When am I gonna get my hands on you?” you ask. “I’ve barely even touched your dick yet.”

    Roger huffs a laugh, and you can feel his breath against you. “We’re getting there,” he says easily. “Good things come to those who wait.”

    “Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” you bemoan, lying back down.

    Roger laughs again, and then his mouth and hands return to where you so desperately need them. You suck in air through your teeth. “Fuck, Roger.”

    Roger moans, and you jerk at the sensation.

    He brings you to the edge once more, and, even though you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, he knows, and leaves you hanging once again. So close, so close, but not close enough.

    You feel like crying. Or kicking him in the face.

    You moan helplessly, slinging an arm over your eyes, your legs trembling as Roger smiles against your thigh – you can feel it. A smug smile that makes your blood boil and your core throb even more than it already is.

    Then his fingers push into you for a third time, and his tongue licks through you, but this time it’s slow, painfully slow, not enough to make you come but enough to keep your head lost in the clouds, enough to make your stomach clench and twist, desperately searching for something. It’s enough to make you grind your teeth together. “God, fuck, I need to come,” you sob against the palm of your hand, your thighs trying to clench around Roger’s ears, but his arm is in the way, keeping your hips still.

    His tongue drags against your clit, steady and unhurried, and the gasping whine that rips itself from your throat is piercing to your ears. Not even your hand could muffle it.

    “There we go,” Roger says, and does it again.

    You squirm. “Roger, fuck, please, I wanna come so bad.”

    Roger’s fingers still move in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but he uses his mouth to say, “You wanna come?”

    “Yes,” you say miserably. “Please, I need to.”

    His thumb presses against your clit, and you bite your bottom lip, your body twisting.

    “Christ,” Roger breathes. “That’s a fucking sight.”

    “Fuck me,” you beg. “Anything, just please.”

    Roger takes his hand away, standing and wiping his face on the back of his hand, and you swear. He kicks off his boxer-briefs. His cock is hard and red, swollen, leaking. You sit up and zero in on it like it’s a four-course meal and you haven’t eaten in days. You scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him.

    “Fucking hell,” he says, clearly not expecting you to do that.

    “Can I suck you off?” you ask desperately, resisting the urge to just shove your mouth around his dick without further preamble. “I’ll do a good job, I promise. Just tell me what to do. I’m a fast learner.” You curl your fist around him, sucking the head into your mouth.

    Roger makes a strangled sound, his hips bucking slightly. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, guiding your head away with a hand on your head.

     You pull back, but keep your hand where it is. “Just fuck my mouth,” you say, gazing up at him. “I dunno how that works, but I can keep it open.” You do so, sticking your tongue out, silently begging with your eyes.

    Roger chuckles softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me come just from running your mouth like that.”

    You open your mouth wider.

    “Or from just doing that,” Roger says. He pries your hand away from his dick, using it to pull you to your feet.

    He kisses you, a hungry kiss, a you’re doing so well kiss, and it makes you preen. “But I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’ve had my dick sucked before; you’ve never been fucked.”

    “I’ve never sucked a dick before, either, though,” you reason.

    “Well, hit me up next time you’re in the neighbourhood,” Roger jokes. Before you can reply, he kisses you again, and you drink him in greedily, palming at his cock until his kisses grow sloppy, messy, more teeth and tongue, and he has to snatch your wrist. “Let me get inside you first,” he growls. “Good God.”

    “I like it when you’re bossy,” you say, teasingly.

    Roger hums, his eyes dark. “You need that attitude fucked right out of you.”

    “Do it,” you say fervently, grinning in delight when he grabs your other wrist as well to stop you from touching him. “Do it, do it, do it. Fuck it right out me. I need it. Never had anyone try to fuck anything out of me before.”

    Roger shudders. “Jesus.”

    You half-heartedly try to tug your wrists back, but he holds them tightly. “Fuck me till I can’t walk,” you say. “Come on.”

    Roger takes a breath, and then lets your wrists go. “Bed. Now.”

    You scramble to obey, clenching your thighs together at the sight of Roger. He looks wrecked already, his hair a mess, his skin flushed, his eyes glassy, his lips red. He goes to his bedside table and digs out a bottle of lube and some condoms. “Maybe should check the date on these,” he mutters to himself, and squints at the packets in his hands. After a few moments of peering at them, he sighs in frustration, and reaches for the pair of glasses on the table that you hadn’t noticed before. He slips them on, and then nods at the packets. “They’re fine.”

    He goes to take the glasses off, but you say, “Wait, show me.”

    He turns to you. “Show you what?”

    Fuck, he looks gorgeous in those glasses. They’re large, round ones, with delicate silver frames, and you make a soft sound. “Oh, wow.”

    “I know, they’re horrendous,” Roger says, taking off the glasses and setting them down. “My eyesight’s always been shite, but I can’t stand wearing the bloody things.”

    “No, you look great,” you say. “So great, in fact, that I need you to get the condom on so you can fuck me literally right now.”

    Roger raises his eyebrows. “You what?”

    “I’m dying here, Roger,” you say loudly, smacking the bed beside you. “You look hot as fuck in those glasses, and I’m so insanely horny that I’m about to explode. I need your dick in me right now.”

    Roger grins, and rips open the condom packet. “All right. Jeez.”

    “Let me do it,” you say, crawling over to him and taking the condom from him.

    “You’ve ever done it before?” he asks.

    “Not since we had to at school when I was, like, fifteen.” You do it carefully, to the best of your memory. Your mouth waters being so close to his cock. “Is this right?”

    “Yeah, perfect,” Roger says. “You look incredible, by the way.”

    You look up at Roger, and the butterflies return. You’re left momentarily speechless, but it doesn’t matter, because Roger leans down and kisses you. His hand rests against your collarbones, and you get another idea in your head. You rise up into a kneel, keeping his lips on yours, and then you take his hand, pressing it against your throat: a silent invitation.

    Roger moans into your mouth, and applies some pressure, just a bit, testing the waters.

    It makes your core ache, and you kiss him harder, so he presses harder in return. His palm is warm against your throat, and you keep one hand loosely around his wrist, the other hand in his hair, as it is wont to do.

    You end up lying back on the bed, Roger pressing his hand against your throat as you gasp and squirm.

    “You like this, don’t you?” Roger says, fingers on his other hand dipping into your folds. “Fuck, feel how wet you are.”

    You nod desperately. Your mouth is hanging open, and your head is starting to swim.

    “Is that all for me, love?”

    You whimper, nodding again. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Roger lets go of your throat, and you gasp, your eyes wide. “More,” you say immediately. “More. Fuck me like that.”

    Roger smiles, keeping his palm against your throat, but brushes his thumb across your skin. His other hand curls around your knee. “Your enthusiasm is… mind-blowing,” he says with a chuckle, “but just take a moment, yeah? You’re all over the shop. Slow down a bit.”

    “I don’t wanna slow down,” you protest, grabbing onto his forearm.

    “We’ve got time, love. It doesn’t have to be over so quickly.”

    “You can’t tease me like that, almost make me come, like, three times, and then tell me to slow down,” you say. “I need you, Roger. Christ, I need you. Show me what it’s like, show me how good my first time can be.”

    Roger’s pupils are blown wide, and he lets out a shaky breath. He swallows. “Spread your legs.”

    You grin, and do so. Roger lets go of your throat and leans over you on all fours to kiss you briefly. “I’m not choking you while I fuck you,” he says. “I want you to feel all of it, not have your head somewhere else.”

    You nod vigorously.

    Roger reaches for the lube. You hold out your hand, and he raises an eyebrow at you, but pours some into your hand. You reach forward and slide your fist up and down his cock, spreading the lube. He groans and shudders, and then he says, “That’s enough, that’s enough, I want to fuck you.”

    You take your hand away, wiping the lube on the sheets, Roger surges forward to capture your lips with his, and you feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. A shot of adrenaline explodes within you.

    “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Roger says, and you nod.

    Then, slowly, he pushes into you, just an inch or two. You gasp at the stretch, gripping onto his arms, your mouth wide.

    Roger stills, and nuzzles at your throat. “You okay?”

    “Mm-hm,” you say, biting your lip. “Keep… Keep going.”

    He does, rocking in shallowly, just going a little further each time. He’s panting against your neck, and you can feel your sweat pricking your skin. You can’t help but admire Roger’s back, the way the muscles move.

    It feels good. Once you get over the initial shock to the system of having something that size inside you, you realise why you were so excited to get to this in the first place.

    “I’m good,” you say, nails absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. “It– It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

    “You sure?” Roger asks, kissing your neck softly.

    You can’t help but laugh. “Roger, for the love of all things holy, fuck me.”

    He doesn’t need another invitation. He slams into you, and your eyes go wide, a tiny sound of surprise leaping out of you.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, raising his head to kiss you in apology.

    “Don’t fucking apologise, it feels good,” you say back. “Come on, come on.”

    Roger laughs, and kisses you. You can feel his laughter against your lips, feel the way his smile changes the shape of his mouth, and that dangerously warm feeling in the pit of your stomach returns.

    You could get used to this. Get used to Roger laughing against your lips as he’s buried inside you. Get used to teasing him, to turning him on, to rolling around in his bed.

    As soon as the thoughts creep into your mind, you banish them. That’s not happening, you tell yourself harshly. This is a one-and-done deal. You can’t develop feelings for a man you’ve only met once. A man who is, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, sixteen years older than you.

    Then Roger pulls out halfway and drives back into you, and all you can think about is his dick.

    Your hand goes back to your mouth, just like before, keeping yourself quiet as you moan and whimper. Your ankles hook over the small of Roger’s back.

    But then Roger pauses, sitting up, and he unwraps your legs from around him and pushes one of your knees flat on the bed, keeping you spread out wide. “Hands away from your mouth, love,” he says. “Let me hear you. It’s okay, you can let go.”

    Your face burns, and you cover it with both of your hands. It’s too big of an ask. You’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Roger…”

    “[Y/N].”

    You lower your hands. He’s watching you, his blue eyes burning with desire, but they’re soft, too. Understanding.

    “Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Hold onto the sheets, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

    You nod, and, with no small amount of effort, let your arms go by your sides, your fists wrapping in the sheets.

    Roger smiles. “You’re amazing.”

    You turn your head away, overwhelmed.

    “Eyes on me. Hey.”

    You look back at him. Exposed. You’re exposed, in every sense of the word.

    Roger braces himself on the bed beside your ribs, and, keeping one hand on your knee, holding it down, he starts fucking into you again, hard and deep.

    The sound you make could best be described as a mewl, and it’s a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. Your hands tighten in the sheets, fighting the urge to cover your face again. Roger’s eyes are still on yours, and it’s too much, you want to look away, but you can’t.

    “So good for me,” Roger pants. “Fuck. God, you’re incredible.”

    You whine. “Roger.”

    “That’s it, love. Say my name.”

    He thrusts into you at just the right angle, making your back arch. “Roger.”

    Roger groans, and he lets go of your knee to circle his fingers around your clit. You gasp, your eyes finally breaking away from his to look to the ceiling, feeling yourself climbing rapidly for the fourth time that night.

    “Let me come, let me come, please,” you beg, your arms straining as your fists pull on the sheets.

    Roger leans forward again to kiss you, a mess of heavy breathing and tongues and lips brushing. You let go of the sheets to clutch onto him, pawing at his shoulders and back and hips, unable to settle on where you want to hold him.

    One hand inevitably slides into his hair, and you grip onto it, tugging it hard. Roger’s rhythm stutters, and he groans out your name.

    His fingers feel so fucking good, and, doubled with the way he’s stretched you out, tripled with how he edged you before, you just know how hard you’re going to come. You can feel it building deeper within you than you’ve ever felt before, like an impending tsunami.

    Roger readjusts, sitting back again, his brow furrowed as he searches for just the right spot to hit you.

    When he does, you cry out. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

    Your hands scrabble for purchase, and one finds your own hair, burying itself, and you don’t pull, but you keep a firm grip on it, the slight pain being the only thing keeping you from losing yourself entirely. Your other hand finds the same spot as before in the sheets, and you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

    “You close?” Roger asks, and you nod.

    “Say it out loud, love.”

    “Yes, I’m so close, I’m so close,” you gasp. You’re almost there, you can feel it, only inches away, moments away.

    “Open your eyes, come on.”

    You do, and meet his gaze. “Roger,” you whimper.

    “You gonna come for me?”

    “Y-yeah.”

    “I wanna hear it, yeah? Wanna see you. See you come undone on my cock.”

    And that’s the final nail in the coffin. You orgasm pulses through you, so hard that you convulse, and you wail, blurting out Roger’s name, clenching down on him. Your blood roars in your ears, and you’ve never come so hard in your life.

    Roger moans out, “Fuck,” and then pumps once, twice more, and then comes, groaning your name, a shudder ripping through him.

    When he comes back to himself, blinking his big blue eyes at you, you can’t help but think he looks otherworldly. His face, pink, shines with sweat, as does his whole body. Locks of hair stick to his forehead, his temples. His mouth hangs open, and his chest heaves, and maybe it’s the ten-out-of-ten orgasm you just had, but in that moment, you kinda want to marry him.

    He takes the hand you’ve tangled in the sheets, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Your heart just about explodes. “You all right?”

    You splutter. “All right? The fuck’s that meant to mean?”

    Roger smiles, massaging the palm of your hand with his thumb. “I mean, are you hurting anywhere?”

    My heart hurts from you being all hot and perfect and stupidly romantic, you think. “No,” you say. “I’m just fine.”

    He pulls out of you, carefully, and it does nothing but reignite a spark of arousal within you. Then he collapses onto the bed beside you with an unmistakable dad noise, and takes off the spent condom, tying it off and tossing it into the rubbish bin beside his bed. When that’s done, he wastes no time in rolling onto his side and pulling you in for a kiss. You hum happily, shifting closer to him, not even caring about the sweat and how wet you are all over your inner thighs.

    When he breaks away, he says, “So. How do you feel?”

    “Like I just had the biggest orgasm of my life,” you say.

    Roger chuckles. “I meant now that you’re, y’know…”

    It clicks. “Now I’ve lost my virginity?” you say playfully. “Had my sexual debut? I’ve become a woman?”

    “Not that any of it matters, of course,” Roger adds. “But it’s still… It can be a big thing.”

    You give him a soft kiss. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” you say. “Virginity is nothing but a social construct and all of that.”

    “Of course,” Roger reiterates.

    “But I feel… happy.” You hope your grin isn’t as cheesy as it feels. “It’s nice to not have to… worry about it anymore, I suppose? I don’t know if I was really worrying about it before, but it… I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just had a really good time. That’s all that matters.”

    “Good.” Roger’s hand goes to your hip, squeezing it. “I’m glad.”

    “Did…” You lick your lips. “Did you have a good time?”

    “Did I have a good time?” Roger repeats, almost aghast. “Are you joking?”

    “Even though I had no idea what I was doing?”

    “You’re a natural.”

    You laugh. Your stomach squirms – both because of those ridiculous maybe-almost-could-be feelings, and because, even though you know in your mind that the whole sex part of the evening is over, your body certainly isn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

    Your thighs clench together, but you do your best to hide how it feels. You don’t want to be greedy.

    Roger feels your thighs move under his hand, though, and he looks to you questioningly. “Are you still–”

    “No, no, I’m fine,” you say lightly, shaking your head. “I was just moving around.”

    Roger pauses, and then says, “All right.” He kisses you, and then takes a moment to gather his energy before he sits up. “I’ll get us some water.” He turns to you, pointing a finger at you, as if something just occurred to him. “You should go pee.”

    Your eyes widen, and you nod. “Oh, yes, good thinking.”

    “Bathroom’s just there,” he says, gesturing across the room at the closed door.

    “You have an en suite?”

    “Well, yeah. Much easier when there’s kids around.” His face falls a little. “Not that I’ve had the kids here very often recently, but uh…”

    “I’m sorry,” you say.

    He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s fine. Great way to bring down the mood, eh?” He leans down again to kiss you, and then stands up, stretching. “Be back in a mo’.”

    You watch him, your gaze hawk-like, as he pulls on his neon-green underwear and disappears out the door, raking his hand through his hair as he goes.

    Your thighs clench together again, and you whimper.

    You try to push it aside, and slide off the bed to go the bathroom, pulling on your underwear as you go. You don’t exactly feel like putting your push-up bra back on, but you don’t want to just lounge around completely naked. Would it be too presumptuous to put on Roger’s shirt?

    You bite your lip, considering, and then decide to just bite the bullet, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It’s comfy, and smells like him; you understand why women in movies do it now. You do have to call bullshit on wearing a man’s shirt like a short, cute dress though – it’s more just like a long shirt, and you’re glad you’ve chosen to put on underwear.

    It feels odd to pee in a stranger’s house – even odder that it’s an en suite – but you’re thankful that you get a moment to properly gather yourself in private, instead of while being surrounded by the smell of sex.

    It’s when you’re washing your hands that you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth drops open in horror.

    You look like a fucking mess. Your foundation is patchy where you get oily and where you’ve sweated it off, and there’s a slight ring of smudged mascara under your eyes – honestly, you’re thankful that it’s not worse, and that your setting spray did at least something. Your hair, though, is the worst of it all. You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

    “Oh, shit,” you whisper to yourself. What can you do? You don’t have any make-up with you to try to fix the problems, but you can’t exactly take it off, either. You have no way to fix your hair. You untie it from the ponytail it was in and try to smooth it out, but it doesn’t really do much, so you tie it back up again, but it’s a shitty ponytail, so you untie it and try again. Then you try a third time, and give up, settling on the disaster that it is, and grab a tissue, blotting at your make-up.

    You sigh, staring at your reflection. Well, fuck. What the fuck are you meant to do? How the hell can you go back into the bedroom, knowing you look like this?

    “[Y/N]?” Roger calls. “You all right in there, love?”

    You shiver. God, the way he says the word ‘love’. The way he says your name.

    You clear your throat. “Um, yeah, I’m– I’m fine. Just…” You can’t say you’re still peeing. Oh, fuck, what if he thinks you’re taking a shit or something? “I’m just fixing up my make-up.”

    “I think there might still be some make-up wipes in a drawer somewhere, if you want to have a look,” Roger says. “Maybe they’re no good anymore, I’m not sure.”

    You have a dig around, and find a packet. It’s already been opened, quite a while ago by the looks of it. Must be Roger’s ex-wife’s.

    The thought of that sits weirdly with you, but you’re not quite sure why. Almost like you feel like you’re intruding, maybe. You certainly don’t feel like you belong here, in this bougie, nice house.

    You sigh again, and pull out a handful of make-up wipes, seeing if there’s any that still hold any moisture. One in the middle has a little bit, so you carefully run it under your eyes, and lightly tap it over your forehead and down your neck to soothe your skin, fixing up any problem areas as best you can without it being too obvious that you’ve just wiped off the make-up.

    The end result is fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but… yeah. Fine.

    You throw the make-up wipes into the bin, take a deep breath, and exit the bathroom.

    Roger’s on his phone, and he looks up when he hears the door open. His face goes slack when he sees you. “You’re wearing my shirt?”

    “Isn’t that what girls are meant to do after sex?” you joke.

    “I just haven’t seen, um, anyone do that in… in a long time,” he says, somewhat stilted, and he glances down at his hands. He quickly turns his eyes back to you. “It looks good. Really good.”

    “Thank you,” you say, and pad over to the bedside table near him, where he has two glasses of water waiting. “Which one’s mine?”

    “On the left.” Roger sets his phone down and watches you as you take a sip of water.

    He’s close to you, and, like before you kissed for the first time, you’re hyperaware of every movement. But he barely moves, just waits for you.

    When you put the water down, you hesitate. You want to climb on top of him, kiss him, feeling his arms around you again, but is that too much? Does he want you to go? Are you overstaying your welcome?

    “You all right?” he asks gently.

    You nod. “Um, yeah,” you say, and take a step back. “You probably, um, have work or something tomorrow, so I should go.”

    You don’t miss the way Roger’s face falls a bit. “Oh, you want to go?”

    No. “Well, it– I don’t want to impose…”

    “If you want to go, then I’ll order an Uber for you,” Roger says. “But don’t feel like you have to go if you don’t want to.”

    The Amazonian butterflies are back yet again. “I…”

    “Because – and correct me if I’m wrong,” Roger says, reaching out and tugging on his shirt, pulling you closer, and you go without any resistance, “but I think you were telling a bit of a fib before, when you said you were… what did you say? Just moving around?”

    You press your lips together as Roger guides you between his legs, and he tilts his head back to gaze up at you. He smiles at the look on your face. “Am I right?”

    You can feel your face heating up again. “No,” you mumble unconvincingly, hiding your smile behind your hand.

    “No hands over mouths,” Roger murmurs, reaching up and taking yours. “You don’t have to hide.”

    Fuck. Oh, fuck. His voice sounds like a warm fireplace feels, and you barely even know him, but you’ve never felt safer, more comfortable, around a man. You can’t pretend now – you’re really starting to like him.

    Roger raises his eyebrows at you, just a touch, searching your face. “So? Am I right?”

    “It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. You’ve done plenty, I… I can’t ask for more.”

    Roger hums, and presses a kiss to your palm before letting your hand go. “All right, okay,” he says. “I was wrong, I see. Can I at least tell you what I’d do to you if I had been right?”

    You breathe in shakily, and nod once.

    The corner of Roger’s mouth quirks up. “Well,” he says slowly, “first I’d kiss you, of course. And, as hot as you look wearing nothing but my shirt and your knickers, I’d undress you again. Get you lying down on your back, all spread out for me. I’d kiss you some more. Then I think I’d choke you, because you seem to like that a lot, yeah?”

    You nod, hypnotised.

    Roger nods as well. “Right. And then, while I was holding you down by your throat–”

    You gulp.

    “–I’d get my other hand, and I’d–”

    “Okay, yes, you were right,” you blurt out, and grab his face, ducking down to kiss him desperately. He kisses you with just as much hunger, and nudges you a few steps back, giving him enough room so he can stand up and start unbuttoning the shirt. As soon as he’s done, your shrug it from your shoulders, and Roger pulls you closer by your ass. One hand moves to cup your jaw, his tongue pressing against yours. It doesn’t take long before the hand shifts to your throat, and you whimper softly, urging him to tighten his grip.

    He does, and the feeling of it goes straight to your core. Your hands clutch at him frantically.

    He lets go of your throat, and you suck in a gasp, then latch onto his neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at his skin, licking off the salty traces of sweat.

    “Careful, love, careful,” he says shakily. “I can’t turn up to work looking like I’ve been attacked by a vacuum.”

    You huff, but soften your kisses. He moans under his breath, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything hotter.

    Soon, you break away, and crawl back onto the bed, and he follows you, positioning himself on all fours above you to kiss you deeply, his knee slotting into between your thighs. He presses it against your core, and you instinctively grind against it, shuddering when it fires an electric shock of arousal through your system. Roger shifts, readjusting his balance so he can bring his hand back to your throat, and you welcome it. You grind against his leg again.

    It’s when you have to stop kissing him, your brain going into overdrive trying to force you to focus on breathing, you have to breathe, that Roger sits back, moving his leg out of the way and replacing it with his other hand.

    “Fuck, Roger,” you gasp, twitching under his grip, your hands vice-like on his forearm. Your eyes slide closed, revelling in the way your head swims, the way your body fights to suck as much oxygen as it can into your lungs. You’re still so wet from before, still so stretched out, that Roger slides two fingers into you at the same time with ease, and you let out a stuttering moan, bucking your hips into his hand. His fingers swirl around your clit, hitting it in just the right way, and within minutes you’re almost there.

    “Most people think the best part about getting choked is the actual ‘getting choked’ part,” Roger says out of the blue, and you frown, trying to follow, opening your eyes.

    “Hear me out,” Roger says casually, pushing his fingers back into you and flicking your clit with his thumb, and you whine. “Are you close, love?”

    You nod.

    Roger hums. “You look so good like this. Does it feel good?”

    You nod again. “Mm-hm.”

    “Yeah, looks like it does. Looks like you enjoy it.”

    “Ah, Roger, please.”

    “It’s all right, love, I’ve got you.” Roger’s fingers quicken their pace, and you make a sound, squirming.

    “As I was saying,” Roger continues, “people think the best part of getting choked is actually getting choked. But it’s not. The best part of it is actually being let go. Do you want to see?”

    You nod, barely even listening to what he’s saying. You’re too close to coming to pay attention.

    And then Roger lets go of your throat at the same time he brushes your clit, and a rush of oxygen flows into your lungs, a rush of blood flows back to your head, and your orgasm slams into you, and the world seems so much brighter in that moment. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, your back arching, your eyes wide.

    It feels like it goes on for a lifetime, although perhaps that’s just your mind trying to sort itself out. When you do finally start to come down from your high, you realise you’re shaking, and Roger is grinning at you. You blink at him owlishly.

    “Wh– Huh?” you breathe, your heart racing, and Roger laughs.

    “So you’re alive, then,” he teases, and leans down to kiss you.

    You grab onto him, kissing him soundly, and roll the both of you over, so you’re straddling him. You just stay like that, just making out, letting the frenzied kisses lull themselves into something slower, something calmer. Just kissing for the sake of it. Roger’s hands stroke up and down your back, and you could almost fall asleep like this.

    Speaking of falling asleep – you have to break away, hiding your yawn by tucking your face into his chest. Roger hums, and you can feel it vibrating against your body. You smile. “Sorry,” you mumble.

    “Can hardly blame you,” Roger says, his voice low. “It’s late.”

    You let yourself slump against him, a moment of pure self-indulgence, and then roll to the side, dumping yourself onto the bed. You groan, unable to stop yourself from instinctively shifting into a more comfortable position for sleeping, your arm beneath your head like a pillow, your eyes closing.

    “I’m sorry,” you say again, muffled by your arm. “I’ll leave in a minute.”

    Roger says nothing, and you feel your stomach coil in guilt. God, he wanted you to leave fifteen minutes ago, didn’t he? He was just too polite to say anything. And then you pressured him into making you come again, because you were too selfish to know when enough was enough. Great, fucking great, you’ve fucked it all up, and you’re a huge piece of shit, and you���

    “Did you want to stay the night?” Roger asks tentatively.

    Your eyes fly open, and you shift up onto your elbow. “What?” you say. “Stay?”

    Roger glances away from you. “It– It was just a suggestion,” he says. “Just an idea, I don’t know. I, um – it’s just late, and I don’t want you travelling all that way on your own. You can, obviously, if you want to, that’s up to you, I just…”

    You’re hardly even listening. You’re still struggling to drink in the first thing he said. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

    Roger looks to you, and bites his bottom lip. “If– Well, if you want to, then, um, yes, I’d like you to. But only if you want to.”

    You beam, and your heart triples in size. “Um, yes. I’d like to.”

    Roger smiles back. “Good. Great. That’s–” He clears his throat. “Did you want to have a shower?”

    “I think so,” you say with a laugh. “I’m…” You went to say I’m so disgusting right now, but you don’t want to fuck up your now-sleepover before it’s even properly begun. “Yes please.”

    “Well, you know where the bathroom is,” Roger says, nodding towards the en suite. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer, if I remember correctly. I’ll get you a towel.”

    “You’re not coming into the shower with me?” you ask coyly.

    Roger blinks, and you laugh.

    “Oh,” he says. “You were joking.”

    “I wasn’t,” you say. “You just made me laugh.”

    Roger swoops down to steal a kiss, and you don’t let him leave, pushing up into him, stealing a few kisses back.

    “Let me get you a towel,” he says, and then climbs off the bed and pads out of the room.

    You bite on your finger to stop yourself from making some stupid giggle, or maybe a dumb squealing sound like a little girl. He asked you to stay the night. He wants you to stay the night.

    Oh, shit, you realise, your finger dropping from your mouth. Justine. You never told her what was happening.

    Where’s your phone? In the living room. Spitting out a curse, you pull on your underwear and Roger’s shirt again, and hurry out. You run into Roger, arms full of sheets, in the hallway. “Hey, is everything all right?” he says. “What did you forget?”

    “I never told my roommate I wasn’t coming home,” you say. “Last she heard, I was about to book an Uber.”

    Roger’s eyes go a little wider. “Shit, whoops. Yeah, go tell her.”

    You shoot him a smile, and scurry off to the living room. Your phone is on the couch, and you snatch it up. Wow, shit, it is late. You’re glad you only have an afternoon lecture tomorrow.

    Thankfully, just one message from Justine, from about half an hour ago. hey, haven’t heard from u in a while. just send me a message when u get this ok? xx

    You respond. fuck sorry, left my phone in the other room. I have SO MUCH to tell u omg, but in a nutshell uhh we ended up sleeping together, it was fucking amazing, and now he’s asked me to stay over, so ill see u at uni tomorrow maybe? if not then at home xx

    You keep your phone in hand, and head back to Roger’s room. He’s started cleaning up in the minute you were gone, stripping the bed. Fresh sheets sit on the floor. “What’s this?” you ask.

    “I’m making the bed,” Roger says simply, tugging a pillow from its case. “I’m too old to be sleeping on sheets I’ve just had sex on. Let me tell you, it makes a difference. And the sheets were due for a change, anyway.”

    You step forward. “Well, let me help.”

    “Don’t be silly, jump in the shower.”

    “Don’t tell me what to do.” You set your phone down beside his on the bedside table, and together the two of you help remake his bed.

    Roger chases you into the shower then, and says he’s going to tidy up the room a little more before he joins you. “I’m on a roll now,” he says, picking up your shoes from where you kicked them aside during the bed-making. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

    You take the make-up wipes. The door is about halfway open, and you can hear Roger moving around, hear when he trips over something and hisses out a curse, making you smile.

    The make-up wipe freezes in the air near your eye. You can’t very well have a shower and go to bed without taking your make-up off – it does not make even a vague semblance of a pretty picture – but this is… way more intimate than you were expecting. Why didn’t you think of this when you agreed to stay over? Roger’s going to see you without your make-up on, with your hair tied up in a bun. He’s going to see you in the morning, all bleary-eyed and disgusting. Fuck, morning breath. You have the spare clothes you brought that you can change into tomorrow, but no extra underwear. Nothing to wear tonight. It’s a miracle that Roger even has a spare toothbrush. What time does he get up for work? Will he expect you to leave before he wakes up?

    Are you a one-night-stand? Is that what this is? Are you asked to stay the night if you’re nothing but a one-night-stand, or does the fact that he asked you mean something else?

    “Is your roommate all right?” Roger asks, coming to the door, leaning against the doorjamb. “No freak-outs?”

    You lower the make-up wipe. “Um, no. It’s all fine, I think.”

    “Have you found the toothbrush?”

    “No, I haven’t checked yet.”

    Roger moves around you, pulling open the drawer and rummaging through. “Ah, here it is. Still in the packet! How good am I?”

    You smile as he presents it to you like it’s a medal of honour. “Thanks.”

    “Sorry about the make-up wipes,” Roger says. “They’re not great.” He huffs, and then leans against the edge of the sink, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m… I’m actually really nervous.”

    Your eyebrows shoot up. “Nervous?” you repeat. “About what?”

    “About… you staying over,” he confesses. “It’s been, I don’t know, ten years since I’ve had anyone new sleep over. My brain is suddenly filled with every annoying thing I do when I sleep. And I look awful in the mornings, let me tell you. If you think I look bad now, just you wait.”

    “Who says I think you look bad now?” you say. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I think you’re a hot piece of ass, Roger.”

    Roger splutters, flustered, and you grin.

    “I move around a lot,” he says. “When I sleep. So be prepared to cop an elbow to the face.”

    “Don’t you worry, I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say. “And I move around, too.”

    “I run hot,” Roger adds. “I’m like a space heater. And sometimes I talk in my sleep, but only when I’m really stressed about something, like work. I can be really very clingy.”

    “I run cold,” you say with a shrug. “So clingy suits me fine.”

    Roger pauses, staring at you, like he wasn’t expecting an answer like that. Then he snaps out of it, glancing away. “Sorry,” he says for a third time.

    “Don’t apologise,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to. I’m nervous, too. Like, really fucking nervous. I’m– I’m too nervous to even take my make-up off.”

    Roger’s eyes search your face. “I won’t care what you look like,” he says gently. “I’m sorry that you feel nervous about taking it off. But it won’t matter, I promise.”

    “Just wait and see,” you joke in a sing-song voice.

    Roger is silent for a few moments, and then he says, “Well, I hope you’re ready. I’m going to kiss the bloody daylight out of you when you take it off.”

    You don’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to do that.”

    “I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable without make-up on. And if that means I have to keep kissing you all night as a reminder that it doesn’t matter what you look like without make-up, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

    You duck your head, making a disgruntled sound. Why does he have to say cute shit like that? Why must he make you suffer?

    Roger pushes the packet of make-up wipes a little closer to you, waggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle, and then reaches across you for his toothbrush.

    You start wiping off your make-up.

    Roger waits until you’ve finished taking it off, until you’ve brushed your teeth, until you’re well and truly left without anything to do, and then he cups your face in his hands and does exactly what he promised he’d do.

    One steamy make-out session and one far-too-long shower later, you’re sitting on the newly-made bed, wrapping in a towel, the strands of hair that slipped loose from your bun sticking to your neck and temples. You’re watching Roger pull on a pair of underwear and rifle through his chest of drawers. He pulls out a huge shirt, clearly worn and well-loved, and turns to you, holding it out. “I went on a day trip once to Brighton,” he says. “We were out to a pub and I spilled red wine all over my shirt. Had to buy a new one. Sent one of my mates to get it for me and he came back with this. Hence why I have a shirt about five sizes too big for me.”

    “You didn’t have to explain,” you say with a chuckle, taking it from him.

    “I feel like I did,” Roger says. “I, um, usually use it as a sleep shirt when I travel.”

    You slip it on, and then stand up, letting your towel drop to the floor. The shirt is long enough to cover everything, but you’re not about to bend down any time soon.

    You glance over at your underwear, where they’re in a pile near the door. Should you put them back on?

    “Please don’t,” Roger blurts.

    You look to him. “Huh?”

    His face goes red. “Um. I just– I– You– I saw you look over there, and–” He rubs his hand along his jaw. “I, um…” He looks to the ceiling, and says it in a rush. “I’m sorry this sounds awful but I saw you looking over at your knickers and I don’t want you to put them on because you look really hot wearing my shirt and the thought of you wearing nothing underneath makes my brain explode.”

    “You’re one to talk,” you say, “standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of boxers like that doesn’t make my brain explode.”

    Roger’s eyes flick towards yours, and he breaks out into a smile, and then laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

    “We’ll be truly even when I see you wearing my clothes,” you say teasingly.

    Roger steps in close, his hands coming to your waist. “I don’t think your dress would fit properly, love.”

    “I’ll have to come better prepared next time,” you say, and Roger hums, leaning in to give you a kiss.

    Next time. Next time. You said ‘next time’. Talk about presumptuous. Christ! What is wrong with you?

    You break away. “Not that I think there’ll be a next time,” you say quickly. No. Bad phrasing. “I don’t want to assume there’ll be a next time.” Still bad. “I don’t want you to think that I think there has to be a next time.” Even worse. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to have a next time if you don’t want there to be.” Better. Not great, but passable.

    “I want a next time,” Roger says. “If you want one.”

    “I do,” you say, God, far too eager. “I’d really like there to be a next time.”

    “Me too,” Roger says.

    You press into him for another kiss, and then, finally, the two of you make it to bed.

    Once you’re under the covers, you almost fall asleep immediately. You didn’t realise how exhausted you are. Roger reaches over and switches off the light, and then wraps an arm around your stomach, his front against your spine. You allow yourself to smile freely in the dark, even as your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

                                                      ~~~

    “I’m… I’m going to send you the rest of the payment,” Roger says. He’s dressed for work, just in a white dress shirt and black slacks, and you’d been admiring him and enjoying the coffee he’d made you after you’d gotten out of the shower. It’s early – too early, for both of you.

    But now your stomach drops, and you lower your mug of coffee from your lips. “You are?”

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “You don’t have to,” you say. “I said it last night, I don’t care about the money.”

    “I know,” Roger says. “But it’s still right. You started this whole thing to help pay the bills, and it’s not your fault that there was that whole mix-up. You don’t deserve to miss out on getting the money you’ve rightfully earned.”

    “You don’t deserve to fork out that much money because of that whole mix-up,” you say. “You’ve already paid half of it. And it’s– it’s quite a fair bit, Roger.”

    “I can afford to pay it,” Roger says. “I’m living more than comfortably. Giving you the money you’ve earned would just mean that I can’t, I don’t know, travel overseas this year.” He raises his eyebrows a touch. “Well, now that I might not have to be paying for three kids as well, maybe I’ll still be able to afford to go.” He shakes his head. “That’s beside the… My point is, I can afford it. And you deserve it.”

    You don’t know what to say. “Roger…”

    “Just let me,” he says earnestly. “Please. I want to.”

    You open and close your mouth a few times. God, you’d be mad to turn down the money. But it doesn’t feel right. Does it? You don’t even know what to think.

    You glance down at your mug. “All right,” you say quietly, so much so that you’re not even sure if he can hear you. But you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. “Thank you, Roger.”

    “Hey.”

    You look up at him, and he smiles. “You can pay me back by letting me take you out to dinner.”

    Your face immediately grows hot. “Suave motherfucker,” you say, and he laughs.

    “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he says playfully.

    Your stomach squeezes. “Sure,” you say. “But I’m paying.”

    Roger snorts. “Not bloody likely.”

    “I’ll fight you for the cheque, don’t think I won’t.”

    “Maybe I’ll just sneakily pay for it before you’ve even realised.”

    You narrow your eyes at him. “Can we settle on going Dutch?”

    Roger sips his coffee. “All right,” he says eventually.

    “Good.”

    He takes out his phone, holding it out to you. “Text me some time during this week,” he says. “About where you want to go. Or just text me if you want to say hi. Or call me. Y’know, whatever.”

    You tilt your head to the side as you take his phone. “That wasn’t quite as suave, I have admit.”

    Roger sighs. “Damn.”

    You laugh, and send a quick text to yourself, then slide the phone back to him.

    He seems extremely pleased, but he takes a casual drink from his coffee like he’s trying to hide it, and you can’t help but think it’s horribly cute.

    He shoots a glance at you, and sees you grinning at him, and his cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat, turning away to the sink to rinse his mug out.

                                                      ~~~

    You’re at uni, half-asleep, shuffling back to the bus stop after your never-ending lecture, when Justine barrels into you, grabbing your elbow so tightly that you yelp. “What the fuck happened last night?” she exclaims.

    You don’t know why it hadn’t been awkward this morning. Apart from the money conversation. There had still been some nervousness, on your part anyway, but Roger had been too focused on getting ready for work to let any uncomfortable silences hang. You have to admit that it had been nice to wake up with someone’s arm around you, and you had been quietly delighted to see Roger fussing over the faint bruises on his neck, pulling up his shirt collar and adjusting his tie to try to cover them. After you’d both gotten ready for the day, he’d dropped you at the nearest bus stop. “And I will text you,” he’d said seriously. “Don’t think I won’t.”

    “Good,” you’d said. “I’ll be waiting for it. Three days is the general rule, right?”

    Roger had groaned. “Don’t make me wait three days.”

    You had chuckled. “I’m not making you do anything.” You’d hesitated, and then said, “Is it weird if I kiss you before I go?”

    Roger had taken a breath. “I… wouldn’t say so, no.”

    So you’d leant in and kissed him, and he’d kissed you back, and you’d wanted to keep kissing him, but a car had pulled up behind you and honked, so you’d drawn back, whispered, “Bye,” and gotten out of the car.

    Once you’d figured out how to get home, you’d crashed, sleeping until your alarm had woken you up again for your lecture.

    “Stuff,” you say to Justine.

    “Stuff?” Justine squawks. “Don’t give me that shit. You have to tell me literally everything, or I’m going to kill you. Come on.” She loops her arm through yours, and starts towing you towards the bus stop.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket.

    I know it hasn’t been three days, but it’s been more than three hours. Is that enough time, do you think?

    You smile, reply, I think so, yeah, then quickly pocket the phone before Justine can sneak a glance as Amazonian butterflies flutter around in your stomach.