#it's quite a fun article. there's more by the author at the bottom to check out as well

[senadimell]

I feel like the tone here is overly alarmist and doesn't match the tone of the article the paper was about.

First, the car paint color graph does likely show a trend, but it's also worth noting it's a graph showing car colors from used and new car sales in Poland over three years. It's also not by the author of the article. Let's not over-generalize.

Second, the first graph analyzes photos in the Science Museum Group Collection.

"We excluded specialist categories, such as ‘Surgery’ and ‘Railway posters, notices and handbills’. We also excluded very broad categories such as ‘Art’ and ‘Documents’ as well as categories that mainly contained parts of objects, such as ‘Electrical Components’."

From the article (and note that at least as presented, it's an article on a science museum page, not a peer-reviewed journal study):

The most notable trend, in both the chart and the video, is the rise in grey over time. This is matched by a decline in brown and yellow. These trends likely reflect changes in materials, such as the move away from wood and towards plastic. A smaller trend is the use of very saturated colours which begins in the 1960s. While things appear to have become a little greyer over time, we must remember that the photographs examined here are a just a sample of the objects within the collection, and the collection itself is also a non-random selection of objects. Moreover, these trends will continue to change as new objects are acquired.

The article is very interesting, I definitely recommend reading it.

Keep in mind, this is an analysis of photographs in a museum collection. For example, one of the graphs clusters similar objects together. There's a few "islands" of items similar to each other and distinct from other things. One of those islands is a series of skeins of viscose rayon.

Why would skeins of viscose rayon be in a museum collection? I didn't investigate the particulars but I will note that all of the ones that I saw when I searched the museum's collection were from before 1940.

Searching a general museum collection already introduces certain biases into what you're looking at. If it's in a museum, even a science museum, do you think there will be more items that you can currently buy at the store, or items that are old?

Another trend is that items are getting more boxy. That is, there are an increasingly number of box-shaped items in the collections. I don't know about you, but I don't think the objects in my life are getting more square as a general rule just because the more modern things in the science museum collection are more boxy.

re: grey and beige carpets, those are specifically selection of carpets used in bedrooms. Not carpets used in kitchens and dining rooms, as shown in the pictures. I'm sure there are whole articles analyzing the carpet trends of 50s-70s (pretty sure we don't carpet bathrooms or kitchens anymore. fun fact, my former boss tried to renovate her apartment when she moved in and after pulling up the tiles, she found some very groovy carpet underneath the tile that neither the previous owners nor them had been able to pull up, and so the solution remained to just...tile over it again). That said, I do love me some funky arcade or movie theatre carpet, so I would be sad if that went away.)

Let it not be said that I am a party pooper on colorful design, though. I love folk art and I think we should paint all the things. Tip from an artist friend of mine, you can get plain curtains, carve up a linoleum block print, get some ink from a art/craft store and a roller (I think you could use a brush if needed or scrape the ink over a flat surface with a flat implement), and stamp your curtains with your own customizable design.

Decorate your lampshades. Paint your dressers. It's probably hard for a lot of the tumblr audience to paint your cabinets and walls since I suspect there's a lot of fellow tenants here, but decorate!

I'm personally fond of rosemaling:

[ID: an image search showing chests painted with colorful, swirling, often floral designs]

Color has been disappearing from the world.

A new research group used machine learning to track color changes in common materials and items, below is their findings for all color changes over time, they used 7000+ items from the 1800s to now to determine color changes in the most common items.

Below are the colors of cars by year, notice how the majority of cars are grey, white, or black compared to twenty years ago.

These aren't data points, but they are comparisons between the 'modern' homes of the 70s and 80s compared to the modern homes of today.

Carpets have equally had the same treatment of grey added to them! The most common color of carpet is now grey or beige.

Even locations that used to scream with color for decades have now modernized to becoming boring minimalist (and I love minimalism) personality-less locations.

The world is becoming colorless, why?

source paper

[manonamora-if]

ive been looking at the ifcomp and i think im gonna do it. any advice for a firsttimer? what should i expect? what was your experience?

Hi Anon!

First of all, congrats on taking the leap! I know it can be quite daunting to participate in one of the biggest and oldest IF Competition there is currently. Takes quite a bit of guts to do it! Yay, you!

Suuuper long ask answer because you asked questions requiring long answers, where I probably repeated myself multiple times.

IFComp Advice

What to expect?

What was my experience?

TLDR: it's hard but also fun. Def recommend at one point (unless ranking makes you go blerg... then do the SpringThing or an unranked game jam).

IFComp Advice

I do have some advice for you, especially if you are planning on submitting a game to the IFComp this year, which is less than a month away:

Be Ready for your work to be judged and reviewed by people. Some will be harsh, some will be kind, most will be fair. If you are not fully open to criticism, especially negative one, the voting period will sting like hell. It is also fine not to read any review or comment about your entry, but a head's up is important.

Be prepared to rank low. If you follow the advice below, you probably won't end up last place. But the competition is stiff. Authors often spend a year or two on their entries before they submit. If you know you can't handle rankings, go for the SpringThing instead. More chill.

Submit your intent to participate NOW! The deadline is Sept 1st, but it's easy to put it off and forget. And intent to participate doesn't mean you have to submit something. You can back out at any moment (even during the voting period).

Check the rules and timeline of the comp (@ifcomp). You don't want to disqualify yourself by mistake...

Keep it short: 15 to 30 min of gameplay. There is less than one month left, and you want plenty of time to make sure your entry is as polish as possible! I took 3 months last time and it was a buggy mess on Day 1 of the voting period.

Use a program you know, or a simple one with good documentation or guides. You might have time in a month to learn how to use a complex program, but I wouldn't recommend it. List at the end.

Create something simple but airtight. You are racing against time. Shooting for the moon with something complex could work, or it could land you in the bottom. Usually, it is best to create a game which is doing little, but doing it very well, than submitting a behemoth that can't even do its core gameplay loop right every time (dissing myself, yes). Sam Ashwell has some good article for choice-based, Emily Short for parser puzzles.

Your prose should have as little grammar mistakes as possible. Pass your text through as many grammar checkers, and maybe some human testers (beta). The more eyes you have on it, the better. Hate to say it but, avoid word crimes there...

Have some impactful interactivity, that makes sense with the story. Puzzle, branching of variation, etc... Even if all of it is fake, and you are pushing the player through a linear story, the player shouldn't feel like they are just flipping pages of a book. I am not talking about the quantity, but the quality of the interactivity. Emily Short has some great article about that stuff.

Don't have bugs. Should be obvious, but you know... I didn't follow that one and got (rightly) roasted for it in the reviews. Test your game (and have people test your game) A LOT.

Style your project a little bit (if possible). It doesn't have to be fancy, but as simple as changing the colour of the background and the text, maybe the font of the text as well (!!! it should still be readable) can go a long way. Also appreciated but never mandatory: different formatting for different bits of text, some animation in the text, having images, having audio, having accessibility settings (theme, font, visual, audio)... Again, those are pointers. Leave this for last.

Credit where credit is due. Code, assets, beta-tester, etc... anything you did not make from scratch, or anyone helping you along the way, should be added in a credit page. Also credit yourself for what you did :P you deserve to show off your efforts!

Test your game relentlessly. Yes it bares repeating, I've done that mistake. Don't be me. Test your stuff again. Have people break your game.

Edit your submission page with care. Have a grabbing hook for your synopsis, an eye catching image, and any relevant documents the players would need (i.e. walkthrough). DON'T FORGET TO ADD A WAY FOR PLAYER REACH YOU FOR BUGS!

MOST IMPORTANTLY: Have fun! If you have fun making your entry, it will show in the writing and how the game is constructed.

Hypertext/Choice-based: Twine (Harlowe, SugarCube), Ink/Inklewriter, Moiki, ChoiceScript Parser: Adventuron

Oh... and good luck. You'll need it :P

If you are thinking of next year instead, most of these advice applies. You can just rule out the intent submission for now, the length of the game (1h gameplay is usually the sweet spot), and the program to use (though take one you understand). The rest could work for any comp honestly.

What to Expect?

The IFComp period in an exciting time where many people gather to play games and talk about them. Many people submit stuff yearly, sometimes with good results, sometimes it's atrocious. Sometimes, authors who haven't been seen in a while reappear to show off their labour of love or review other people's games. It can be very intense and overwhelming if you are participating (author or player).

As an author, you should expect (not exhaustive):

deadline (intent/game/voting),

potentially getting comments for bugs (and having to update, which you are allowed to),

seeing reviews and discussions about your entry (mainly on the IntFiction Forum, but sometimes on blogs too): good stuff, negative stuff, and people missing the point entirely or having bad take, or takes you didn't think about.

seeing people rating your entry on the IFDB (rating =/= vote, but can be a flawed indicator)

feelings galore (good, bad, ugly, anxious), especially stressing about the results

having to remind yourself that no one can judge everything completely objectively (expect when it comes to bugs, it is or it isn't), and that people vote for what they like.

following the rules on the IFComp website

a special private group on the IntFiction forum to discuss with other authors when the voting period starts, as well as posting reviews,

maybe get a prize at the end? (depends on your placement)

Honestly, it can be pretty rough. This is not an easy competition. Most people have been working on those projects for months or years. Some have for just a few weeks, but their pieces can be out of this world. Only the organisers have an idea of who is competing ahead of time, and how competitive it could be from year to year (i.e. did big names come out or not).

While reviews and ratings can give you an indication of how your game is faring with players, you will not be able to know until the votes are actually out (case and point: me, thought I did much better than reality). Either way, it will be a surprise, good, bad, disappointing...

Speaking of reviewers, most will try to be as partial as possible and going into every entry with an open mind. But, there are harsh reviewers out there, as well as kind ones. It is not unusual to see blunt reviews, especially if something ticked the player (bugs usually).

But also, it's loads of fun! You have a bunch of very serious people debating on minor things, newcomers trying out the comp and sometimes even reaching the stars, oldcomers popping by for a cup promising they will review ever game and then disappearing after three, a lot of very very very good games to play, so many different perspectives on what if IF, and feeling like you have a voice in what should be crowned the best of the competition!

It's weird, it's serious, it's goofy...

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best... but most importantly, have some fun. And do what's best for your mental health!

What was my experience?

I think I've talked about it quite extensively in my Post-Mortem for The Thick Table Tavern. Read that before the end of this, for context.

And almost a year after this experience (on this day, I was frantically writing), I think my feelings have changed quite a bit. I went into the competition guns-blazing without understanding the importance of things (bugs/grammar especially) and thinking I had done the absolute most and breaking the genre, believed I did sooooo much better than any other entry, got very dramatic when the first non-positive reviews came in, and was about to throw my shit when I saw the 1s in the voting curve. I am only a bit over-exaggerating here.

I definitely deserved the placement I got. Don't misunderstand, I am incredibly proud of what I achieved there! But... there were major issues for sure. And I've come around to recognise those.

Those 1s-2s were warranted, those negative comments were warranted: the first version was buggy as hell (which I think was the version in the mass downloadable packet? and I updated the game like 20 times), there are still a bunch of issues with the prose (I learned my em dash lesson!), the pacing is aaaalll the way off (I thought I was being cheeky, but didn't always land)... This was something way different for the comp, maybe more experimental than people expected (I mean, who does a click-only bar for a text-based comp...)? But most importantly, while it looked polished, you just needed to play a few minutes to see the varnish crack...

To say the least, I got slapped back to reality. HARD. This was a mediocre good-looking game. Real pretty, big flaws. And that's ok (not putting myself down). Not every game can be winners (unless it's La Petite Mort or DOL-OS :P), not every game will work as intended. You can rack all the trophies all the times. Sometimes you're just at the bottom.

All this might sound hella negative, but I am incredibly grateful for this experience. I have learned so much about game creation, coding, writing, what to do and avoid... There are things I probably wouldn't have learned had I not participated (or not as early). I have created friendships (and rivalries /jk) and found a community where I feel comfortable being this experimental with my work (hey, it worked for DOL-OS!) and continuing breaking the codes. It's renewed my drive to create and do more: games, experiments, trying new program, but also for the community, helping out, creating guides and templates, giving advice...

And I've found a bit of love for reviewing stuff it turns out.

I've made my peace.

And I have plans for a new pretty weird game for a future IFComp ;) I will make people cringe again :P Hopefully not because of bugs!

Final sidenote: I am still not taking my advice. No one tested DOL-OS before it was submitted, and it won. But also, other games placed poorly... I am still speed-running through competitions (not the IFComp this time), and tripping all over all the time. I still submit thing thinking I'm the hottest stuff and that no one else will be better than me. Completely delusional here. Be better than me, for your sake.

[onetooneto2]

토토사이트

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If you're some sort of online player, there are actually similar gambling recommendations, such as setting targeted limits for each visit at the computer. Like a player might have 1, 000 points or even dollars in the profile and set your limit of the loss of 100, or two hundred. (The idea of when ever to quit is the area of interest of numerous articles, classes and blogs. )

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An example: You can't create a straight in on-line poker without a 5 or simply a 10. That may look simple enough as it is actually, but when you are investigating two hole bank cards and the three-card loser s in Hold them this small piece becomes part of your strategy. This is also true if you end up playing video holdem poker and have to decide that cards to hold on top of.

Of course, these two lists may not cover many of the descriptions of internet casino tips, but they must be enough to start almost any player on the road to additional success. Any guidance is welcome if you find yourself trying to win funds online, right?

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With this subject, thousands of web pages have been written, in addition to thousands of words are spoken. It's impossible to protect even half of the good gambling tips along with casino tips in a single sitting. However , let's list a few of the most effective bits of gambling system in the interested getting started.

In the movie poker world, Mitchell suggests asking that moneychangers where online casino employees play online video poker. This could connect you with the best two or three devices in the building. This lady also urges video-poker enthusiasts to know approximately full pay together with short pay. Full-pay machines offer highest payback for the style of game - $99 out of each $100 that is bet, by way of example. Look at the payout furniture and see if you are on a full-pay machine (nine coins for a extensive house and 6-8 for a flush. )

In video internet poker, you can throw away many five cards. Certain experts gambling approach say that a gamer will, over time, pitch out all six cards once in each and every five or five hands.

Key casino tips: Among the best gamble in any casino, as reported by Mitchell, are a decide upon number of slots plus the full-pay video poker-online games. The best solution for blackjack can be described as table where the automotive dealer has to stand with 17. According to this approach expert, keno, massive wheel and double-zero roulette should be towards the bottom of everyone's engage in list. The bottom set for every player: Come to be an educated casino targeted visitor. Check out the Frugal Gaming books by Jean Scott.

When it comes to authentic gambling strategy, this thinking cap may need to go one as well as the player must expend a little more time to every single issue. Let's take a look at a great example coming from John Robison concerning slot play along with the issue of having fun with full coins.

Essential gambling tips: Robison and many have expected whether the additional probability of full-coin spots is rewarded along with higher payback. Seeing that this guy has a masters degree in laptop or computer science and exploration, his study of greater than 1, 000 slots might be a good warning of what to believe.

In the interest with keeping things uncomplicated for now, here are a few involving his recommendations.

to With a straight multiplier machine, you are blowing time if you insert more than one coin with at a time. Same applies to bonus multiplier.

i Play full gold coin on buy-a-pay units, multi-line and at hybrid machines.

u Play full gold coin an progressives.

Involving gambling tips, hundreds of systems have been constructed and tried within the gambling strategy. Such as, the Martingale method included the assistance to double your bet after each and every loss, so that together with the first win you would recover the thing that was lost previously. This may work, but seeing that each gambling happening stands alone, it could take a minute or a life time to hit that earliest win.

Of course you can find probabilities and predicted value and so on, if you are chances are 1 within 10, 000, it's likely you have to wager 9, 999 times cascade over that one win. You should also lose 100, 000 times before impacting ten in a short period. The best advice involving gambling tips could be: do just what the winners undertake and hope for the most beneficial.

References Gambling https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gambling

[13uswntimagines]

Pretty Girl (Christen x Reader)

Request: Christen and reader go to the zoo and reader either works with animals or is just a huge nerd and literally obsess over the animals and christen kinda just falls for her even more

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​! 

You were in your element and Christen was living for it. While she had always been adept at soccer, Animals and Biology were your specialties. You looked so cute in your little safari outfit, and Christen couldn’t help but drop by when she was in town to surprise you, and take one of your legendary tours. Tobin, who had been unlucky enough to be sharing a car with the woman, followed along behind her, not sure how she felt about being dragged along on this excursion. 

“Now if you come over here you can meet Darth Vader!” You said excitedly, pointing to one of the clear cages on the wall, taking a step towards it. 

“He’s a black rat snake, and look at him use the force of his muscles to climb up his exhibit wall. Gravity-defying right? Now do any of you kids know anything about snakes?” You addressed the group of kindergarteners assembled in front of you, listening attentively as some of them piped up about snakes they had seen (and you wholeheartedly ignored the burning gaze of the only two soccer players in the group). 

Most of them got closer to the glass to look at your favorite reptile, but there were always a few who took went to hide behind their moms, who had a tendency to call your snakes either “scary” or “gross.

“The pretty girl on the right is a Ball Python named Snickers,” You smiled, stepping towards the glass. “She’s almost 20 years old, which is the upper end of the lifespan of her species. Though ball python populations are growing rapidly in areas of Florida, they’re actually indigenous to west and central Africa. They’re what we call invasive species- species that invade the habitat and can eat other species that are natural to areas of the Everglades,” You shook your head sadly. “That’s why it’s very important to never release a pet into the wild. It can decrease the quality of their lives but also really hurt native species that are already there” Stupid people releasing pets they should have never had, destroying the environment. 

“Did your girlfriend just call a reptile a pretty girl? Isn’t that her nickname for you?” Tobin joked, nudging Christen’s ribs with her elbow. Christen felt her cheeks turn a little pink. 

“No, I’m superstar,” Christen mumbled, glaring at the chill middy. 

“Hmm, it’s cute how into them she is though,” Tobin smiled. It was amazing how much you lit up around the animals, even if it was a little weird when you called slithery things pretty. You were kinda like Steve Erwin she guessed. 

“You don’t get a Ph. D. if you’re not interested,” Christen laughed, and Tobin nodded. No one wrote a 50-page dissertations on things that bored them. 

“Can you take the guinea pigs out today?” The little girl with pink pigtails looked so hopeful, you almost felt bad that you had to say no. Except that you hated the guinea pigs.

“Sorry I wish I could, but this is the guinea pigs’ day off today.” You saw your coworker Jenni come in and waved her over. “Also my shift just ended. But Jenni here can tell you about anything else in the exhibit you’re curious about!” 

You disentangled yourself from the crowd of youngsters and made your way over to your girlfriend, standing on tiptoe to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey superstar.” 

“Hey, do I finally get your undivided attention?” Christen asked, pulling you into her arms and kissing your lips. You smiled, showing off your dimples as you nodded quickly. 

“Good luck with that around all these… what did you call them? Pretty girls?” Tobin said, facetiously, smirking as she leaned against the wall. She jumped, as a thump sounded behind her. The animal house didn’t have any solid walls, and instead featured glass enclosure. 

“Oh shit, that’s just Milo, he’s kind of an attention whore,” You laughed, pointing to the 36 inch blue racer that had just fallen from his branch to the bottom of the enclosure. 

“He’s gorgeous,” Christen marbled at the bright blue snake, 

“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll get a big head,” You smirked at your girlfriend, unable to maintain the serious expression. 

“He’s a snake. They don’t have feelings,” Tobin scoffed, watching as Milo flicked his tongue at her. 

“You just say that because you haven’t met him yet. I have held many a snake and let me tell you, Milo is positively clingy!” 

“Yeah, no thanks,” Tobin started to say, but then Christen piped up. “That’s a great idea! We would love to meet Milo in person, Y/N!” She continued smiling as Tobin elbowed her in the side, and you caught the wicked glint in her eyes. 

“You know, it just so happens that he’s on the schedule for interaction today!” You smiled giddily at your girlfriend, dancing in place for a second before flipping through your keys for Milo’s enclosure. 

“Hey pretty boy, wanna say hi? I got some nice people that really wanna meet you and pet your beautiful scales,” You said, stroking his neck a few times to get his attention. The snake slowly began moving forward, encouraged by your warm, steady hands and you carefully picked him up and set him on your shoulders to support his spine. 

“I thought your girlfriend was a Gryffindor. Aren’t Slytherins the ones who can talk to snakes?” Tobin whispered, using your girlfriend as a shield from the snake. 

“That’s a common misconception. It’s heirs of Slytherin who can talk to snakes, but who's to say that all of Slytherin’s descendants would choose to be there?” You smiled sideways at the woman, not quite taking your attention from the blue noodle wrapping around your wrist. 

“If you come closer you can see his scales shimmer in the light. He just shed last week, so they’re really pretty right now.” 

Christen took a slow step towards you, looking more at your loving gaze than at Milo. It was incredible how calm he was with you, and the care you clearly had for him. 

“Gorgeous,” She said, her fingers coming up to just barely fun her fingers over the cold reptile. He brought his head up to stare in her direction. She froze. 

“It’s alright Chris. He’s just checking you out,” You hummed, lifting the snake slightly and bringing him within reach of your girlfriend if he wanted to go to her. “Can you blame him? They don’t call them foxii for nothing,”

“You say that like he isn’t contemplating how long he would have to starve himself to eat you both,”

“Sounds like you’ve been reading too many clickbait articles. Actually blue racers are foragers, not active hunters,” You raised your eyebrows at the clearly terrified midfielder, feeling comfortable enough with Christen watching Milo to take your eyes off of him. “But I’ll put him back if he makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You brought Milo back to the door of his enclosure, waiting for him to decide he wanted to head back in and being careful to unwind him from your nametag (he always liked to play in your lanyard), he flicked his tongue at you and you took it as a thanks for patently untangling his tail. You locked up the door before standing up straight. 

 You took your girlfriend’s hand and began to lead her from the room. “Come on, lets go to the insectary, I know the gal who works there will let us hold Dot if we ask nicely.”

“Who’s Dot?”

“A super adorable curly-haired tarantula,” you said, grinning, intentionally not looking behind you to see the source of the gagging noise. 

“Why can’t you think normal things are cute like giraffes or elephants or like literally anything else,” Tobin huffed, crossing her arms. She should have listened to Sonnet when she warned her about visiting you at the zoo. At least you hadn’t tried to introduce her to Spike the giant snapping turtle. 

“You’re mean,” you said, turning to stick your tongue out at Tobin over your shoulder. 

“Well I think you’re cute, so I think that makes up for it,” Christen smirked. Sure, you liked the less conventional animals, but seeing you with them made her fall for you just a little bit more.

“I love you,” You melted, leaning in and kissing your girlfriend softly.

“Love you too babe. Now let’s go get me introduced to Dot,”

[thirsty-x1]

Too Much | Cho Seungyoun

Request:

can i request a smutty oneshot where the reader is ceo!seungyoun’s gf and after a couple days of him coming home late/not coming him at all because he’s overworking himself, she goes to his office herself (all dressed up 👀) to try and help him unwind/relax? basically him fucking his gf over a desk lmao, hope this is okay!

↬ Pairing: Seungyoun x fem!reader.

↬ Genre: Smut, bit of fluffy ending.

↬ Warnings: explicit language, dom!Seungyoun, dirty talking, slight degradation, semi-exhibitionism, oral sex (blowjob), very slight bondage, fingering, unprotected sex.

↬ Word Count: 3.8k.

↬ Song Recommendation: “Too Much” by Loco ft. Dean.

The sun coming down reflected on your windshield as you drove your car, turning right before seeing your destination come in sight. The building stood tall, somehow looking threatening and making you doubt whether you really were going to follow through your plan. It wasn’t a hurried decision considering that you had been trying to gather the courage to do it since quite a few weeks after noticing the pattern your boyfriend had started to create, but it was also your first time visiting him at work. Taking a deep breath, you parked the car, your fingers turning white as you held the steering wheel tightly, comforting you a bit before you got out.

A slight breeze sent shivers down your spine, the cold air impacting mainly on your exposed legs. Your eyes travelled down examining your outfit, wondering if it was fancy enough; as the CEO’s girlfriend, you couldn’t just show up in any clothes. The mid-thigh skirt wasn’t doing much to protect you against the weather, although it would have been much worse without the thin dark stockings underneath it. You ironed the white shirt with your fingers and fixed your coat while walking towards the entrance, the sound of your high heels resonating on the empty street.

Pushing through the heavy glass door, a man behind the welcoming desk smiled at you kindly but without saying a word, waiting for you to initiate the conversation, which was rather odd… wasn’t that supposed to work the other way? Without giving it much thought, you proceeded to ask in a low voice.

“Excuse me… I have come to meet the CEO, Cho Seungyoun.”

The man nodded, as if he expected it, and asked in a condescending tone: “Do you have an appointment?”

“Ah, no, but I–” He waited no time in interrupting you.

“Then I’m afraid you can’t see him now. If you call to this number,” he scribbled down in a card, handing it to you, the tactic being too obvious as you saw what was probably his name on it, “you can arrange a meeting.”

Smiling as sweetly as you could, you declined his offer. “I’m his girlfriend.”

You could see the blush on his face as his eyes opened wide, starting to stutter as he pointed out the way indicating which floor you had to go to, much more polite than at the beginning. It was fun to see the immediate change without even confirming whether it was true, the thought of the employee trembling at the fact making you wonder just how strict of a boss was Seungyoun.

Waiting for the elevator you could feel eyes on you, turning away whenever you tried to catch who they belonged to. As you heard a few people muttering, you noticed that other’s women outfits weren’t as sophisticated as you were, rather using full suits instead of skirts and blazers on top of their shirts. You started to feel slightly embarrassed, focusing on the numbers changing as the elevator went up, your hands quickly closing the long coat as a way to protect yourself from the gazes.

After what it seemed to take forever, you got to the floor, hurriedly getting out of the cramped space while examining the whole room to see if you could find your boyfriend’s office. Finally, you noticed a slouched figure behind one of the glass walls, a sudden relief washing over your body as you recognized Seungyoun working on his office, sitting behind his desk as he seemed to study the papers in front of him. Nodding to some of the workers you passed by, you opened the door, careful to not disturb him as you got in.

“Have you finally brought the right papers? Also, ask everyone to stop sending messages through the work chat, I can see them, and what are they all being so loud for? Who came? I haven’t authorized anyone to pass.” His tone was completely serious as he rearranged some of the papers on the desk, almost throwing one of the folders to you as he looked up to his screen to check something. “The numbers are wrong, ask the statistic office to check them at least once.”

It was hard to hold back your giggle. “Would be nice if you looked up every now and then, your employees will hate you otherwise.”

Right when you started the sentence, his eyes shoot up, a smile spreading on his face as he stood up and walked around the dark wood table to hug you.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would be at home…”

Pouting, you played with the collar of his shirt. “Well, you have been working way too much… and since it’s impossible to make you take one free day, I thought of coming here.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning to press a kiss against his sleep thankful that he was covering you from anyone spying.

“I know, it’s just that the deadline is close and everything must be perfect, plus we started a new deal with another business.” It was fun to see the contrast between his boss-self and the Seungyoun you were so familiar with, especially as he put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I need to finish some work now, would you mind to wait for a bit? We can go have dinner to some fancy place afterwards.”

There wasn’t much you could do now and he was being too kind considering you came without prior notice too. You nodded, not without slapping his butt as he turned around to go back to his seat. While you heard the incessant typing, you walked around, staring at the multiple diplomas and degrees on the walls. On one of the shelves, there were all the awards that the agency had won next to pictures of Seungyoun with numerous renowned business men. It had been barely a year since you two had started dating, but by now you had noticed he wasn’t too keen on talking about his work, which was a bit surprising seeing just how big part of his life it had become. When you asked him about it, he simply said it was because he preferred to keep both separated and focus on relaxing while at home and you hadn’t pressed much on it.

After a few minutes, you took of your coat and sat down on the sofa, grabbing one of the magazines that was on the coffee table without paying much attention to it. Instead, you preferred to watch Seungyoun working: the way his hair was slicked back, his tie slightly loose since he pulled on it whenever he got stressed, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled showing the shiny wrist watch that blinded you each time he angled it in a particular way and one of your favorite tattoos of him, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose sliding a bit and his hand quickly putting them back in place, how he nibbled on his bottom lip, the soft grunt he would let out when something in the screen wasn’t going the way he wanted… You knew he was having a hard time, but he was also looking extremely hot while doing it so, to the point where you couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Is that article so interesting?” His question interrupted your thoughts, causing you to blink a few times and he smirked. “You have been drooling for quite a while…”

You let out a breathy laugh and got up to walk next to him, hugging him from behind and resting your head on the crook of his neck. “Is there a lot left?”

He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “Almost done.”

“Hmm… You are pretty tense.” Your hands slid down his chest, barely grazing his belt. “Want me to help you relax a bit?”

Seungyoun sighed, grasping your wrist right before it got to his groin. “I’m at work, princess.”

“And?” You pressed your lips against his neck, lightly nibbling on the skin before licking a stripe, his head falling to a side to allow you reach more. “If I get under the desk, it should be fine, right? You deserve it, you have been working so hard…”

Before he could even form an answer, you took a peak outside the office only to notice almost everyone had gone by now and dropped to your knees, quickly undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, palming him over his underwear earning a groan from him. Maybe it was the rush of being caught what turned him on so much because in just a few minutes he was hard, his length twitching under the fabric.

“Don’t tease me, y/n.” His tone was commanding, eyes piercing as he looked down on you, the new side of him making you wet. “Be a good girl and suck me off, hm?”

Unable to form any kind of reply that didn’t expose just how much power his words had over your whole self, you decided to follow his order. Hooking your fingers on the tight band of his underwear, you pulled it down enough to free him, his head thrown back as you slid your tongue on his shaft covering it up with your saliva. With a wicked smile, you teased the tip of his cock, already tasting the precum forming on the tiny slit. His head rested on the back of your head, encouraging you to take him in your mouth, shutting his eyes closed as he felt your lips wrapping around his member.

Right as you were about to begin bobbing your head, the door of the office opened, the sound of steps getting closer to the desk stopping you dead on your tracks. You looked up, trying to get some kind of indication on what to do from your boyfriend but he was completely ignoring you, his gaze fixed on the person before him.

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Miss Lee?”

“Ah, yes, here are the files you asked for, Sir.” You could feel a hesitant tone on her voice and you wondered if she was the woman that Seungyoun was waiting for when you had entered his office earlier.

“Thank you.” Realizing that the woman hadn’t left, Seungyoun continued. “Anything else?”

“W-well, you see… Some of the other employees were going to have a drinking meet up to celebrate the stocks going up, a-and… I was wondering if you would like to c-come…” You rolled your eyes at the obvious excuse to flirt with him, but what annoyed you the most was how much time your boyfriend was taking to decline the offer so you could continue, so you engulfed more of his length into your mouth and heard his fist impact on the desk, scaring you and his secretary, apparently. “A-are you feeling well, Sir?”

“Yes, it’s nothing, sorry, thought there was… something…” His voice sounded strained, so you swirled your tongue and pressed lightly on the underside of his tip.

“I see… T-then, will you come with us to celebrate?”

Just as a reminder, you went all the way, holding back a gag when you felt him hit the back of your throat, causing him to clear his own. “No, I’m sorry, but I have plans with my girlfriend tonight.” Pleased with his answer, you were about to pull out until his hand forced you to stay in place.

“Oh… I will get going then. Have a good night, sir.”

As the door closed, you hurriedly tapped on his thigh and he put his hand away allowing you to pull his dick out of your mouth as you coughed violently, the air hitting your lungs all at once as you tried to dry the tears that had clouded your vision. While you tried to recover, Seungyoun put away all the things on his work station with the most calmed expression, taking his time until he finished and went back to look at you, his thumb wiping the corner of your lips.

“I warned you to not tease me, baby.” He fixed his clothes again before he leaned in and picked you up, placing you on his desk. “Guess I should have expected it seeing the outfit you are wearing. Were you the one to cause all that fuss in the office?” His hand slid up your leg, appreciating the smoothness of the stockings. “I can’t have you wrecking the whole place… or was that what you wanted?”

“N-no…”

His actions made it hard for you to focus on what he was saying, the previous situation had already turned you on beyond any expectation but now it was him acting all confident, teasing you on purpose.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you didn’t want my secretary to listen to those lewd noises you made while choking on my cock?” His fingers slipped under your skirt. “Or have my employees trying to get a sneak peak of your ass?” Seungyoun’s gaze burned, your cheeks hot as he analyzed each of your reactions, smirking at the gasp that left your lips when he cupped your core. “You are dripping wet, sweetheart…”

“Seungyoun, please…”

His fingers kept rubbing you, the friction not being enough, the two layers of fabric, your panties and the stockings, starting to become annoying as you held his hand in place.

“Tsk, no, you didn’t follow my order before, so you don’t get to do what you want.”

Within a second, he slapped your grip, undoing his tie and wrapping it around your wrists, tying them behind your back rather tightly. You could feel the blood burn under your skin, your muscles itching in anticipation and your heart beating faster as you noticed a few lights still on outside the office. What if there was anyone out there? What if you got caught in the act? How was Seungyoun going to explain that and would it have any negative consequences on his position? All the questions dissipated from your mind as you heard a loud ripping noise, looking down to find your boyfriend smiling playfully.

“You- You ripped my stockings?!” For a second, you forgot of the whole scenario, but he made sure to remind you who was in charge in a flash, his fingers making your underwear to a side and feeling up the slit of your pussy.

“They were in the way and this is most discrete than having you fully exposed on my desk, don’t you think?” Your muscles tightened at the suggestion and he raised an eyebrow. “You like that idea? Hmm, who would have thought that my darling could be such a slut…? Wanting to be exhibited…” One of his fingers entered you, Seungyoun purring on your ear as he felt you clenching around it. “What would everyone think? You looked so professional a few hours ago and now you are sprawled and whining for me on my desk.”

The feeling was overwhelming, his breath grazing your skin with each word he said, making you feel hot all over as you fought with the strains that prohibited you touching him. He kept fingering you at a slow pace, loving how you squirmed under his touch, trying to keep your sounds low in case anyone would hear, but when he suddenly inserted another finger, it was impossible to hold back the guttural moan you let out.

“Fuck, Seungyoun, I really can’t take it…”

“Hm? Weren’t you going to help me relax? Maybe you are not the good pet I thought you would be…” You could feel that he was going to pull back, so reuniting each bit of strength you had left, you surrounded him with your legs and pressed him against you.

“Please, please… Use me in any way you want but I beg you to fuck me, I just can’t wait anymore, I need you, Youn, please…” The last few words came out muffled with sobs, the need in your system growing bigger and bigger under his hungry stare.

“You are too much, babygirl, too much for anyone to handle…” His hands unbuttoned your shirt impatiently, sighing when his favorite lacy bra came into view. “Anyone but me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a rough kiss, groaning at his own taste on your mouth as he slipped his tongue in, swallowing all of your whimpers when he took out his cock and buried inside you in one strong thrust. Smoothly, he pushed your shoulders until you felt the cold wood through the thin fabric of your shirt, and Seungyoun would swear he could have come right then at the view: you, laying back on his desk with your hands tied up behind your back, your breasts bouncing each time he rammed into you, your skirt lifting up slightly to show your cunt taking him in with the panties aside and your ripped stockings, some of his precum smeared on the side of your face, your loud whimpers and the wet sound filling the room in evidence of the lustful act you two were doing. It was his biggest fantasy come true, but the real thing was so much better than what he had played on his mind over and over again.

Right as you felt the knot on your stomach tightening up, you saw a shadow cross the glass wall, fear invading you, but when you looked at Seungyoun, his smile was bigger than ever.

“Why are you so quiet now, doll? You suddenly feel shy? I’m their boss anyway.” His high pitched laugh didn’t match the aggressive pace he maintained while moving his hips. “Why don’t you let them hear who you belong to, hm? Who makes you feel this way? Who is in charge of pleasing you?”

You didn’t dare to reply with words, shaking your head multiple times while trying to make him stop somehow, although the way your body reacted to his voice was betraying your true desires.

“C’mon y/n, I know you love this… I can feel your dirty juices spilling, making a mess… Just admit it, baby, you love being fucked raw by me, completely at my mercy and being this vulnerable and exposed… so helpless…” He continued to shove his length into you, his hands holding your hips in place. “Can you let go of your inhibitions for me?”

Shyly, you opened your mouth. “I-It’s… too much…” Your whimper sent shivers down his spine, his cheeks blushing as he got closer to you.

“I know you can and want to take all of me in this pretty, tight hole of yours, my love, you just have to ask.” Seungyoun pressed a few kisses on the valley of your breasts, sucking on the skin and leaving marks. “Give yourself to me, y/n.”

Just like that, your whole body crumbled, your thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over you, your mouth letting out a mix of incoherencies along with your boyfriend’s name. A few thrusts later, Seungyoun came as well, the feeling of his sperm filling you making you complain from oversensitivity while he made sure to completely empty inside of you. He stayed like that for a while, holding you before peppering you with small kisses and praising against your skin just how good you had been for him, his hands quickly untying yours. When he got soft, he pulled out, hiding a giggle at the complete mess he had caused before looking for some wipes to clean you and himself a little.

When you composed yourself, you fixed your clothes, still feeling a bit uncomfortable with each movement you made since you could feel some of “Seungyoun” inside of you. Everything seemed to be in order, except for your ripped stockings for the which ones your boyfriend apologized under the promise of buying you even better ones, and while you were trying to comb your hair with your fingers, the criminal got closer, helping you put on your coat before hugging you.

“Do you feel more relaxed now?”

He laughed at your sarcastic question. “Yes, very.” Seungyoun pulled away, holding your face in his hands. “Thank you, really. Wasn’t quite expecting that ending but… It was amazing. You really are a good girl.”

Your whole face got red at the sudden compliment, slapping his arm before you grabbed your purse and got out of the office, still waiting for him outside of it. Carefully, you studied the surroundings, but no one seemed to be at the building, so maybe the shadow you had seen before was just a product of your imagination… or so you hoped.

As you got down on the elevator with Seungyoun tightly holding your hands and discussing where you should go to have dinner, you were greeted with an overall familiar face. The guy that had welcomed you earlier that day, and something told you that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t caused merely because of the incident during your presentation.

“Ah, Hangyul, you are still here?” Seungyoun’s tone was extremely casual, your eyes getting bigger as you realized that they must have been more than just co-workers. “Thought you would have gone out with Miss Lee to celebrate.”

The other man wouldn’t look at you in the eye and furtively avoiding your boyfriend’s stare. “Yeah, I just thought it would be more interesting to stay around here and… do some work…”

It was just for a fraction of a second, but you got to see the rampaging boner that the younger had, although he was desperately trying to cover it with his briefcase. Seungyoun must have noticed, because in a second he was standing in front of you, hiding you from his friend.

“I see. Was it interesting enough?” You suppose the other must have nodded due to the elder’s laugh. “Well done today, hope we can work together on some other opportunity. We will be leaving first, make sure to close properly and handle all unfinished business first hand.”

Immediately after you two left the building, Seungyoun exploded in laughter, making you feel even more embarrassed than before as you reprimanded him for making fun of the poor guy.

“That was too much, Youn! You crossed a line!”

His laughing fit started to calm, sliding an arm behind your back as you started walking to your car. “I was just imitating you, my love.”

The only sound that was heard was the echo of Seungyoun’s whine after you flicked his forehead. Despite his bad puns and silly attitude, he was still the man you had fallen for. A man that was “too much” for anyone, but not for you.

this has no business being so fucking long and I don’t know why I added Gyul at the ending but it just seemed fun and I want to cry so much because writing this made me incredibly horny bye

~Nani

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[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.

[spnfanficpond]

October Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE OCTOBER’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @impala-dreamer​

 Lay All Your Love on Me (oneshot) by @idabbleincrazy​

Very very tasty Sam smut here. Love him just letting go and getting into it. Very good work!!

For Tonight (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence​ 

Amazing. Simple yet beautiful and oh the sweet pain. I loved it.

Nominated by Anon

Ride with Me by @katehuntington​

This story is amazing! Kate is weaving such an intricate little AU while still remaining true to the characters. Her descriptions are spot on and the dialogue just feels so…perfect. I adore the insight we are getting from Dean’s perspective too. This is such a unique story and now I just want to go on a trail ride (and find me a cowboy *winks*)!

Nominated by @manawhaat​

Dessert Then Dinner (oneshot) by @atc74​

HOLY SHITBALLS! I generally am not a slut for Rob, but this made me the absolute biggest slut for Rob. Oy vey. The inspiration was fucking there! That picture did things to me and the fic that followed definitely did things to me. It’s hot, it’s fucking ACCURATE representation of lust for the way a man is dressed. Ay ay ay, these words and image are just happen to be exactly what makes my brain explode. 

Witches Fuckin’ Suck (oneshot) by @crashdevlin​

This. Fic. Is. Fuckin’. Weird. It’s weird. It’s absolutely weird. IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY. OMG. I have never related to all parties in a fic so thoroughly. It’s hilarious. It’s ridiculous. There’s a funniness and curiosity that bleeds into sexiness in such a light and honest way. The way this scenario presents itself is so damn real within the realm of Jody and Donna and me. Fucking fantastic! 

Nominated by @slytherkins​

River (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Love me some Denny, but this one is almost better because it’s just implied. There are all sorts of references to Dean’s past, but they are subtle, and the fic itself is understated. It’s also hawt. :p And Dean is so in character. I just…I just like this. Is just good. Bittersweet and sexy.

Drabble #5 (oneshot) by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters​

I loved this drabble. It’s so understated. Big responses in these types of situations are great and all, but I think the fact that they were so reserved made it all the more touching. And particularly in character for Dean, imho. Read it! Be moved. :p

A Dangerous Game ch.6 (series) by @risingphoenix761​

Ooooooh Myyyyy Gaaaaaaawd. Y'all. New chapter. Smut…so hawt. Character dynamic…so fun. Crowley…so, so secksy. Magic…so magicy. :p Remusly, this series just blows me away.  

Nominated by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​

About A Boy (series) by @percywinchester27​

I would like to nominate Ana’s About a Boy series. It has me on the edge of my seat already. Ana is such an insanely smart writer and she really knows how to build a story. She also know her character super well and she is wicked at writing them as kids/young adults. It’s not a reader insert which I know turn a bunch of people off which is a huge shame cause this one really deserves a lot of love and attention.

Nominated by @lovetusk​

A Little Hide and Seek (series) by @iflostreturntosteverogers​

Can I nominate this new series that Carrie is working on? She’s really growing as a writer lately, and so far this series really showcases that.

Nominated by @princessmisery666​

Blood In Bed (oneshot) by @slytherkins​

So I don’t support @slytherkins as much as she supports me and my writing so I wanted to read something of hers, even though it’s not my ‘usual’ cup of tea!!

And god damn I’m so f******g happy, scrap that, ecstatic that I did. This was fun, engaging, funny, sweet and heart breaking. I know she knows Crowley, she quite literally is his Queen 👑. She gets him spot on and this could quite easily be canon. I can see it happening.

I wish I had the words to tell you how brilliant this is, how much I really like it. Demon Dean is perfectly portrayed and I just can’t express how good this is. Mark as my favourite and one I will return to, many times.

Not Always The Way (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage​

THIS WAS PERFECTION!! Yes I know I’m shouting but I need to!!!

Sweet, fluffy, smutty, perfectly Sam, cute and awkward and kind and patient and just yeah!

Nominated by @ellen-reincarnated1967​

A New Fall (series) by @iwantthedean​ 

It's autumn themed, full of the apple pie life, orchards, pumpkins, cinnamon rolls that you can eat as well as the human cinnaroll Jensen post season 15. The family history of the reader really puts you right at the farmer's market and you'll feel cozy. There's also a twist. Looking forward to the rest, but the chapters up now, are addicting like apple pie!

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​

Blood and Water (series) by @crashdevlin​

This story is fan-freakin-tastic! I love everything about it. I’m all about Dark!chesters and Crash is killing it, especially since the boys still feel in character despite the whole ‘screwing their sisiter’ thing. Bravo Crash! Can’t wait to see what else is in store for these three.

His Property (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr​

How do I begin to describe this amazing work of fanfic? Dirty? Kinky? Delicious? Dramatic? Angsty? Smutty? Surprise conflict? On point characters in a very very alternate universe? Yes, I think one of those is a good place to start. Bottom Line: READ THIS FIC (and its sequel Yours)!

Mr. Impala (mixed media) by @evansrogerskitten​

I don’t even remember how I stumbled across this gem but I was shook! I totally thought I was looking at the real thing! And then I read the article, and I was absolutely reading the real AU thing! Such an awesome work of art and fic combined! I was blown away by the quality of it! Props to Ash (and all the other art people) for such an awesome piece and even more props for merging art and fic flawlessly!

Nominated by @stunudo​

Smokestack Lightning (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

I’m nominating MJ’s awesome Sam/Rowena fic because it was what we needed after The Rupture. It is real, but also fun and flirty. She is a master at layering the emotions into her fics, especially the smutty ones.

Nominated by @wi-deangirl77​

Stages of Grief (drabble) by @plaidstiel-wormstache​

I’m nominating this drabble by my gal Jessie because it’s so different than a lot of the fics out there.  The way she coveys the pain and sorrow that the characters feel after such a loss is palpable.  And the way she jumps forward to the future that neither of the remaining characters could have even thought possible at the beginning of the story is very bittersweet. 

What’s Left of Me (drabble) by @waywardjoy​

Once again the Queen of Angst (as I’ve so lovingly dubbed her) brings it to the next level.  Writing it all from Sam’s POV she sets up this dark, DARK fic (heed the warnings peeps) for one hell of a ride.  You can’t help but feel as confused, scared and out of control as our hero Sam does as she takes you down the spiraling track that is the plot of this fic.  Well done, dear Joy…well done. 

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

[onetooneto2]

Interested in Gambling Tips and Advice? Have a go with These Starter Ideas

A quick look at the earth of gambling guidelines reveals at least a couple general categories to get guidelines and tips to help you win profit online. Long-time article author and casino guru Gayle Mitchell supplies a list of single-sentence points that leave your thinking to the person. This sort of tip is usually self-explanatory and simple follow. 토토사이트

For example , Mitchell's workshops and workshops advise casino game enthusiasts to change $1, $5, $10 and $20 bills into gold coins, then carry a coins in a suitable container so that you can judge a bankroll based on the elements of the bucket. It might be great recommendations for someone whom finds it too easy to snap that will folding money journey roll.

If you're some sort of online player, there are actually similar gambling recommendations, such as setting targeted limits for each visit at the computer. Like a player might have 1, 000 points or even dollars in the profile and set your limit of the loss of 100, or two hundred. (The idea of when ever to quit is the area of interest of numerous articles, classes and blogs. )

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Of course, these two lists may not cover many of the descriptions of internet casino tips, but they must be enough to start almost any player on the road to additional success. Any guidance is welcome if you find yourself trying to win funds online, right?

Some Good Tips

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In video internet poker, you can throw away many five cards. Certain experts gambling approach say that a gamer will, over time, pitch out all six cards once in each and every five or five hands.

Key casino tips: Among the best gamble in any casino, as reported by Mitchell, are a decide upon number of slots plus the full-pay video poker-online games. The best solution for blackjack can be described as table where the automotive dealer has to stand with 17. According to this approach expert, keno, massive wheel and double-zero roulette should be towards the bottom of everyone's engage in list. The bottom set for every player: Come to be an educated casino targeted visitor. Check out the Frugal Gaming books by Jean Scott.

When it comes to authentic gambling strategy, this thinking cap may need to go one as well as the player must expend a little more time to every single issue. Let's take a look at a great example coming from John Robison concerning slot play along with the issue of having fun with full coins.

Essential gambling tips: Robison and many have expected whether the additional probability of full-coin spots is rewarded along with higher payback. Seeing that this guy has a masters degree in laptop or computer science and exploration, his study of greater than 1, 000 slots might be a good warning of what to believe.

In the interest with keeping things uncomplicated for now, here are a few involving his recommendations.

to With a straight multiplier machine, you are blowing time if you insert more than one coin with at a time. Same applies to bonus multiplier.

i Play full gold coin on buy-a-pay units, multi-line and at hybrid machines.

u Play full gold coin an progressives.

Involving gambling tips, hundreds of systems have been constructed and tried within the gambling strategy. Such as, the Martingale method included the assistance to double your bet after each and every loss, so that together with the first win you would recover the thing that was lost previously. This may work, but seeing that each gambling happening stands alone, it could take a minute or a life time to hit that earliest win.

Of course you can find probabilities and predicted value and so on, if you are chances are 1 within 10, 000, it's likely you have to wager 9, 999 times cascade over that one win. You should also lose 100, 000 times before impacting ten in a short period. The best advice involving gambling tips could be: do just what the winners undertake and hope for the most beneficial.

References Gambling https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gambling

[greyias]

FIC: By the Guidance of Stars - Chapter 13

Title: By the Guidance of Stars Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: E (Chapter Rating: T) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Humor Synopsis: The Coalition tries to heal in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin 4, but not every wound is physical. A series of missing scenes set during the end of Shadow of Revan. Warnings: See Chapter 1. Author’s Notes: It’s done! It’s complete at long last! *joyful sobbing* Thank you all for sticking around this long, and through the long hiatus of writer’s block.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Crossposted to AO3

Usually Theron liked to take a little longer getting decent, but the ticking clock forced him to rush through getting cleaned up — just taking enough time to restore his hair to its normal glory. Only a poor spy would ignore a crucial detail like bedhead in covering up his, ahem, undercover activities.

By the time he’d emerged from the refresher, his lovely companion had managed to get herself back into most of that damnable, confusing armor and getup and look almost presentable. He’d rounded up and sorted through the haphazardly discarded articles of clothing while she hit the shower first, which probably made her task a little easier. She waited patiently for him to don ninety-percent of his own attire before quirking an expectant eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“I think someone might ask questions if I suddenly started walking around with my hair down.”

“I kind of like it.”

“I will keep that in mind,” she said, almost a little too patiently, “but I still need to put my hair back up.”

“What’s stopping you?” He grinned, already knowing the answer.

“Theron Shan,” she put her hands on her hips, the motion carrying a little more weight and authority now that she had those giant pauldrons back on, “you know very well that you still have my hair tie.”

“Oh? This?” Theron waved his wrist, in her direction where the little leatheris strap was still tied. “I was thinking about keeping it. I think it suits me.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, but he caught the edges of her mouth quivering in a repressed smile. “Unless you have something else I can use for my hair, you will need to return it to me.”

“If you insist.”

“Master Satele will be expecting us very soon,” she reminded him, “and I do not believe either of us really want to try and explain why we kept her waiting.”

“There you go,” he muttered as he carefully untied the little strap, “being all logical again.”

“I have never met anyone as dedicated to irrationality as you,” she quipped back, expertly gathering her hair up into a ponytail.

“It’s one of my charms.” He could have just handed over the hair tie and let her finish the job, but it seemed much more efficient, not to mention a convenient way of stepping in close again, if he tied it back into place himself. “It’ll work on you eventually.”

A hint of color rushed to her cheeks, already letting him know the effectiveness of said charms. She tried to cover up the reaction by smoothing her hand over her hair to check on the neatness of the ponytail. 

“But you’re probably right — again,” he continued, “we shouldn’t keep the boss waiting.”

“No, of course not,” she said, and to her credit, only sounded the slightest bit flustered.

Their trip to the clifftop where Satele was overseeing the launch of Republic’s ships was probably a little more hurried than it would have been, had they dawdled a little less in the shuttle. He needed to shift personas now, try and make it look like they were merely colleagues to the outside observer. Something that might have been called into question right now with just how close they were walking together. As the clearing came into sight, he spied his mother’s silhouette in the distance. And if he squinted, it appeared that Jakarro, Kira, and several others were waiting. Okay, yeah, they couldn’t walk in together now, that’d be way too suspicious. 

So he peeled off at the last second, to a narrow walk path someone had cut through the foliage.

“Where are you going?” she asked quietly.

He just shot her back a grin, and waved her on. If his ears didn’t deceive him, he thought he heard an exasperated sigh as he plowed through the underbrush. He gave his hair one last check before emerging from the tree line, just a few seconds before Grey did from the other path. Satele gave him a polite nod at his arrival, gaze focused on the various Republic vessels that were taking off. He had almost convinced himself that this had been the perfect ploy, when he caught Kira glancing at him, then back at her boss, before rolling her eyes.

Okay.

Maybe not one hundred percent effective. But it was all he could come up with at the last minute. His mind had been occupied with more important tasks than coming up with a proper cover story. Like making sure every article of clothing had been tucked back into all of the right places — and maybe sneaking in one last kiss before unlocking the shuttle door.

Thankfully Jakarro was less observant than a nosy ginger Jedi and hadn’t seemed to connect the dots quite as quickly. Theron was fairly certain that the Wookiee would have practiced far less discretion, and the loud protocol droid still strapped to his chest even less so. Besides, the nearly bone shattering farewell hug that Jakarro had swept the spy up in had been quite enough, thank you — especially considering it had smashed Theron’s face into C2-D4’s disembodied head for an up-close and personal goodbye. He was saved from spending the entire flight back to Coruscant in a kolto tank treating re-cracked ribs by his dashing Jedi Knight in shining armor rushing to his rescue.

“Jakarro,” she said amicably, laying her hand on the large Wookiee’s shoulder, “it has been such a pleasure working with you and Deefour in this endeavor.”

The ploy worked and he abandoned his current hugging victim to envelop her gauntlet with his big paw in a firm handshake. Theron tried to maintain his dignity and didn’t stagger away upon being released, but did move out of grabbing distance in case the smuggler decided resume his affectionate farewell. 

“This has been the most fun the droid and I have ever had, tiny friend,” Jakarro roared in Shriiwook.

“You two certainly have a way of livening things up,” Grey agreed.

“I’ll say,” Kira added with a knowing smirk in Theron’s direction. Silently she mouthed the words ‘Motesta Driller’ at him.

He glared back at her. “Thanks. I had just forgotten about that.”

“Don’t lie, you’ll never forget.”

He refused to deign that with a response, and beyond their little group, he could make out Satele raising a brow in inquiry. That in itself was an uncomfortable reminder of the conversation she had nearly walked in on earlier that morning, not to mention his afternoon activities with the Grand Master’s favorite knight. He cleared his throat, and shot Kira a more serious look.

“You know,” she added quickly, turning back to the unlikely set of smugglers, “it really is a shame that you two have to leave so soon.”

“As lovely as this has been,” Deefour said, “we have some lucrative business opportunities awaiting us back on that pirate infested planet. Nothing to worry yourselves over — just normal, legitimate business.”

“Right,” Grey drew the word out to several syllables.

“Hopefully these ‘opportunities’ turn out better than your Manaan contract,” Theron said flatly.

“You take on one client that’s working for a secret cult trying to take over the galaxy and you never hear the end of it.” If Deefour could have shook his head, he would have. As it was, the color in his eyes just blinked in dissatisfaction.

“You have to admit,” Grey said, “that can be a sticking point for some.”

“I have implemented a new screening process!”

Jakarro growled, “We have no screening process!”

“Of course not.” Kira rolled her eyes.

“You know, you could join my crew if you’d prefer.” The lilt in Grey’s tone was teasing, but Theron was fairly certain the offer to adopt the wayward pair was serious. “The chances of you winding up on the bottom of the ocean floor again are very small.”

“As tempting as that sounds—”

“There is not enough room for the Mighty Jakarro on your tiny ship!” Jakarro cut the droid off, his word choice summoning flashbacks to the “pep talk” from the night before. 

Mercifully, before the explanation on the Wookiee’s size could go down any unwanted path, Deefour tactfully added, “Another time perhaps.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways sometimes,” Satele remarked as the smuggler duo disappeared back into the tree line.

“I’m not sure ‘mysterious’ is the word I’d use,” Theron muttered.

The sarcastic comment didn’t phase her, instead Satele turned to Grey. “I have just finished a meeting with the Council regarding all that has transpired.”

The knight didn’t exactly stiffen, but there was the slightest shift in her posture. Straightening her back and folding her loose hands together in front of her, which forced the pauldrons on her shoulders to jut out. The natural, cheerful expression she’d been wearing for the previous conversation smoothed into a pleasantly neutral one. Her cape fluttered lightly in the breeze behind her as her transformation back into the perfect, model Jedi seemed almost complete.

It was a curious sight to behold, not unlike watching someone slip a mask into place. Theron didn’t quite know what to make of the uncomfortable feeling that bubbled up in his gut seeing it happen, even though he did the same thing all the time. When it came time to do the job, the mask was fixed in place. Another similarity between their chosen professions.

“The work that all of you have done against Revan and his followers is to be commended.” Satele’s tone had a note of officiality to it.

Curious, Theron glanced over at Kira. She had tucked her arms behind her back in an almost formal fashion and was more focused on the proceedings about to happen with something akin to pride than acknowledging the spy’s silent question. Interesting.

“You have a unique perspective and experience among all of us,” Satele continued, “especially when it comes to dealing with Vitiate.”

There was no flinch from Grey at the mention of the name, just a tip of her head in Satele’s direction of acknowledgment.

“The Republic is forming a taskforce to address the renewed threat that he poses, and I have Darth Marr’s word that the Empire is doing so as well. We need all of our best people working on this — and it only makes sense that the Order’s foremost expert on the matter represent us in this endeavor.” 

All of those words were meant to be a compliment, the appointment an honor — but a trickle of dread dripped down Theron’s spine for some reason, settling in his gut hard. Ngani Zho liked to say that what most people called gut instinct was just the Force reaching out to them. That people would be better off listening to that. It was one of the memories of his mentor that had a tendency to either rankle or comfort him depending on the day. At this moment in time, though, it was unsettling. A bit like tasting the tang of ozone in the air before an oncoming thunderstorm.

“You are already familiar with the SIS’s liaison for the task force,” Satele said, rousing Theron back to the present.

He gave a half-hearted shrug at both Kira and Grey. “Hi.”

It wasn’t exactly the most witty of remarks, but he was still unsettled. It made perfect sense that the Republic would involve Grey in this, choose her to lead the fight against the Emperor. She’d already done it before after all. It would be more stupid to keep her sidelined really. But it also meant she’d now be on the front lines tracking Vitiate down. Confronting him again. The thought of that stirred at the unease in his gut and he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Maybe the Force was trying to warn him of something to come, if it actually did deign to actually associate with him in any way, or maybe it was just his own feelings surging to the forefront and blocking out common sense.

Of course, the bright side of all of this meant he’d be seeing her again, probably sooner rather than later. Even if he’d prefer that reunion to be under much different circumstances.

“The council was unanimous on this decision, and one other.” Oblivious to Theron’s internal monologue and struggle, his mother continued to drone on. The sudden shifting of those giant pauldrons caught his attention, as Grey unclasped her hands in front of her and tucked them behind her back, feet spreading apart into an even more formal stance that matched Kira’s. 

“Master Greyias Highwind,” Satele said proudly, “you have served both the Jedi Order and the Republic under extraordinary circumstances, time and time again.”

Grey’s serenely composed Jedi expression broke, blue eyes widening in realization, even as Kira’s lips started to twitch in a repressed smile. Almost as if she knew what was about to be said.

“You embody every ideal in the Jedi Code—”

Theron managed to bite back a laugh, just barely, and was struggling to hold back a full-on grin as he caught Grey’s gaze. He physically pressed his lips together tightly to try and hold back in his reaction, mind immediately straying back to the shuttle. He caught just she slightest purse of her lips and light flush of extra color rush to her cheeks, making him wonder if their thoughts were running in sync at this very moment.

Well, almost every ideal, he thought to himself with no small amount of smugness. The important ones anyway.

Satele either missed, or was intentionally ignoring the silent byplay going on. “It is with great pride and honor as Grand Master, that I name you Battlemaster of the Jedi Order.”

A wave of pride rushed over Theron then, watching the new Battlemaster blink, once. Twice. Her lips twitching as if fighting a smile down and to live up to that embodiment of every ideal of the Jedi Code she was supposed to represent. As much as he had his own issues with the Jedi, it was readily apparent that she adored the Order she worked for. And seeing her so happy and honored was… it was something alright.

“I thank you and the Council for this honor, Master Satele,” Grey had almost, almost managed to keep the smile out of her voice, so she could retain the appearance of that proper, perfect Jedi. “I will do everything I can to fulfill my duties with wisdom, skill, and humility.”

“You have my every confidence,” Satele said, her own serene countenance cracking, a rare and genuine smile emerging underneath.

Theron watched the interaction with probably a little more interest than called for. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen that warm, indulgent expression before on Satele. Prior to this whole business with the Revanites, Theron’s dealing with his mother had been limited and always very tense. He’d always cast the blame outwards for that, it was easy, almost natural to do so. But it was possible there was… more than just a little bit of baggage that made its way into each of their interactions. Listening to Grey the night before — and watching the two of them now — was starting to make him reconsider if that baggage somehow prevented him from keeping a more open mind. 

Whenever he talked with Satele about anything approaching a personal subject, Theron felt himself revert into that angry teenager left to wander the galaxy on his own. He’d learned quickly that it was best to make the first strike to put his opponent on the offensive — and for some reason when it came to his mother he always reverted to that mentality.

When they’d talked back on Coruscant for the first time as mother and son, she had promised him she would always be there if he needed her. And she… had been. He was alive now because she had convinced Jace to bring the Republic fleet to Duros when he’d asked. And she’d forged a Coalition with Darth Marr on his (and Grey’s) word — granted they’d had the data to back it up. But it very easily could have gone the other way. And she’d supported all of his judgement calls when it came to the mission here on Yavin. Had stood next to him for the briefing with Trant. She’d even given him, granted in a slightly underhanded way, his old ship back.

And yes, she had tried to meddle yesterday, but it hadn’t been unprovoked when he replayed the memory of the incident. And it maybe hadn’t actually been about what he’d been assuming at first.

The more thought he gave it, the more he had to wonder if he was… missing anything. By just reacting all of the time. And not listening. Always pushing any personal interaction they had into an argument. Shutting her out of his life completely, instead of… not.

Not that he had any idea of how to go about that. Probably best to not think about it, keep focused on the here and now.

“Our first priority is to understand what happened the other night,” Satele was still addressing her new Battlemaster. “Even if we can guess at what his ultimate goal likely is, we need to understand where he might have gone if we are to bring an end to his threat. We will need more intelligence before we can be sure.”

“That’s probably where I come in,” Theron cut in, shooting a look over at Grey. It was probably the easiest way to try and explain their earlier conversation back in the shuttle, at least while everyone else was listening.

“It is a large task,” Grey said evenly, matching his gaze, “and we must all do our part.”

If Satele sensed any underlying tone or tension to their words, she didn’t show it, instead turning her attention above to where the Coalition’s ships were filling the sky. Behind the gas giant, Yavin’s sun was beginning to set in its orbit, its rays bouncing off of the red planet and reflecting onto the moon. A deep red hue filled the valley beyond them, haloing the ships in a a beautiful but haunting light.

“Not sure I’ll ever get used to the sunsets here,” Theron said absently, watching the glow creep across the canopy below. “Kind of glad I don’t have to.”

“It will be nice to return to some semblance of normality,” Satele agreed. “This entire endeavor has been… different. In both good and disturbing ways.”

That was putting it lightly. “Yeah, I mean, as happy as I will be to get off this rock, I’m not exactly looking forward to trying to explain this whole mess to everyone else back on Coruscant. Conspiracies, government infiltrations. Not just one Revan back from the dead but two. Or whatever that was. I’m not even sure I understand half of what went down — kind of sounds insane when I say it aloud.”

“I would be happy to assist with that,” Satele said cautiously, “with your permission of course. I am more… familiar with matters of the Force.”

He arched a brow at her, trying to contain his dubiety. “You sure? It’s going to be a lot of boring meetings.”

“You forget Theron,” she said, with just the tiniest hints of humor bubbling to the surface, “I studied the art of patience under Ngani Zho too. I am more than prepared for a few skeptical Republic officials.”

“This I have got to see.”

The smile he exchanged with her wasn’t infused with the soft and gentle warmth that he’d witnessed a few moments prior, but unlike all of their previous interactions, nothing in it was forced. It was a little more conspiratorial, with just a hint of mischief dancing in the eyes. And if he wasn’t imagining things, she shot him back one that was almost identical.

Huh.

Maybe that’s where he got it from.

Beyond his mother, he caught a glimpse of Grey, still standing at attention, gaze directed up to the sky as if she was trying to blend into the background and give the parent-child moment some semblance of privacy. Despite the projected formality and image of practiced disinterest, the corner of her lips were still quirked up ever so slightly.

“It is a long journey back to Coruscant,” Satele’s expression had shifted back into her normal, placid expression, “we should not keep the Dauntless waiting.”

“Probably need to go grab my ship in that case.” He indicated the path he’d exited from the jungle. “Speaking of… thanks. For that.”

If Theron hadn’t been watching, he might have missed the change in her expression. Like the subtle ripple on a still pond, it was just the barest of things. Brows arching up ever so slightly, the laugh lines he had never noticed as such easing just a little as she nodded an acknowledgement. It probably should have infuriated him that she didn’t say anything more, but oddly enough, it didn’t. There were others around, which would have made it awkward if she had, and maybe… maybe it was good enough as a start. The flight back to Coruscant was a long one, and there’d be plenty of time to talk more if he really wanted. Theron wasn’t really sure if he was ready for that yet — so best to let things rest where they landed for now.

He watched her exchange some parting words to both of the Jedi that remained, before sending him one last look as she made her way back to the shuttle that would take her back to the Dauntless. 

Realizing that it was now just the three of them, Kira gave a slow, wandering glance at her present company, before clearing her throat. “You know, I think Teeseven probably needs some help with those preflight checks. Make sure we’re ready to leave this Dark Side infested place for good.”

“If there is an issue with the ship, I can help—”

“Nah, I got this,” Kira said, tipping her head in Theron’s direction. “It’ll give you time to wrap up things.”

Grey gave her grateful smile. “Thank you, Kira.”

“Anytime.”

They both watched her departing form, the silence hanging in the air almost as if it was a physical thing. Theron shifted on the balls of his feet, glancing back out at the valley and jungle beyond, bathed in the red light of the sunset, before glancing back to see an expression directed at him, caught somewhere between irritation and amusement.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that was actually your shuttle?”

The laugh he let out was only half nerves, half relief that she’d broken through the barrier of quiet. He wasn’t meaning to stall, but… yeah. Yeah, he totally was. He didn’t want to do this.

“I did tell you,” Theron’s protest was about as weak and transparent as his attempts at delaying the inevitable, “you just didn’t believe me.”

She just shook her head, still unable to make up her mind whether she wanted to laugh or sigh in exasperation. In his head, the chrono that had been counting down from the moment he’d woken up hit zero, and with it, a feeling of some finality settling deep in his bones. As unexpectedly amazing as the day had turned out, he now had to face the worst part of it: the fact that it was now over.

“I’ve never been a fan of goodbyes,” he said quietly.

“We are on the same task force, Theron.” Grey cocked her head slightly, giving him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Do you really expect we won’t see each other?”

“No, it’s not that,” he tried, “I’ve just… usually I don’t work such long stretches with the same people like I have this time… what I mean is…” Hell, why was this so difficult? “I don’t usually see the same people day-to-day, and despite how much fun this planet has overall not been, I...”

“I’m going to miss you too, Theron,” she said gently. “For however long this next time apart will be.”

He shot her an awkward smile, trying to shrug off his chagrin over being unable to actually say those words aloud. There was a part of him that hated how she was able to so effectively reduce him to this rambly state without doing a damned thing, and how she seemed to always see right through it to the heart of the matter. Or rather… just to him.  Which was… not something he was supposed to want or like. But he did. 

More than he should have, considering that most spies would recoil at having anyone be able to see the real person underneath all of the layers carefully presented the world — but she wasn’t just anyone. She was… her. And maybe it was a dangerous thing, a liability even, to not just place his trust in someone like this, but allow himself to get lost in them. 

But he was Theron Shan, and he thrived on danger. When he looked at her — and the way her smile reached her eyes when set his heart racing like all of the best adrenaline rushes he’d ever chased  — he knew that she was the furthest thing from a liability. 

So this whole thing, whatever it was, was fine. Good even. Really and truly.

“I don’t exactly have a good track record with this sort of thing,” he admitted.

“It is new for me as well.”

“What I said before,” he said a bit clumsily, “about finding time… I still don’t know what my schedule looks like. But if our paths do cross again, sooner rather than later…”

She reached across the distance between them, twining their gloved fingers together. “I suppose we will just see what happens when that moment arrives.”

“I guess so,” he let out a half-laugh. “Sorry, I suck at this.”

“You are not as bad as you think,” she said gently, before sobering, “but Theron?”

“Hmm?”

“I meant what I said earlier too,” she looked him straight in the eye, as if it was important that he understand her, “about Vitiate. He’s dangerous.”

“I know,” he reminded her, “but we’ve got this. It’s going to work out in the end, I’m sure of it.”

Even if he had to turn the galaxy upside down to keep his promise. Whatever it took.

“And here I thought you were calling me the optimist.”

“Hey, I learned from the best.” He gave her a cheeky grin. 

She gave him that look again that he adored, the one where she couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him or smack him. It was something special — and more importantly — it was his. And he’d do everything in his power to protect it.

“Stars, I really want to kiss you again,” he murmured.

“What’s stopping you?” She looked almost deceptively innocent as she peered back at him, but he caught the hints of an impish smile forming. 

“Might land you in a world of trouble if someone saw us.”

She made a show of looking left. And then right. Up to the empty watch towers, then at the blazing sunset filled with ships leaving the atmosphere, down to the jungle surrounding them, before looking back at him. The mischievous smile was fully in place now, all traces of that serene mask fully tossed away now that they were alone. That perfect Jedi was gone, leaving this ridiculous dork in her place.

“I don’t see anyone watching,” she said lightly.

That was all the invitation he needed, and without another word he pulled her in for one last, slow lingering kiss. He still didn’t have the words for whatever this thing was, but he did know one thing.

It was worth fighting for.

[psychologyofsex]

Lockdown Reading Recommendations for People Who Like to Read About Sex

I know that many of you are bored and horny right now during this lockdown and quarantine period, so allow me to recommend some of my favorite sex books! If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably already seen a few of my recommendations, but here’s a more extensive reading list.

Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Sex and Science by Mary Roach. Bonk is a great place to start! I read this book back when I was in graduate school working on my doctorate in social psychology and it was actually a big influence on me in terms of wanting to become a sex researcher. Roach does a fantastic job of tracing the history of sex research in an engaging and entertaining way, while also making clear why this research is so important for all of us and how it has improved—and will continue to improve—our lives. It’s also full of fun sex facts and tidbits, some of which are very timely—like the fact that fear releases adrenaline, and adrenaline enhances blood flow to the genitals. This is why people in fearful states sometimes have a sexual response. Hmm…maybe that partly explains why so many of us are kinda horny right now? She also discusses the science behind the health benefits of sex and and orgasm. Among other things, it can cure intractable hiccups, relieve stress, and (potentially) help us live longer (after all, sex is a form of exercise). So if you’re stuck in lockdown and find yourself with hiccups that won’t go away or you just want to get some physical activity in, well, now you know what to do!

A Billion Wicked Thoughts by Ogi Ogas and Sai Gaddam. Two neuroscientists analyzed the contents of over a billion searches on some of the most popular porn sites and the results were fascinating. As someone who studies sex for a living, this is one of the most frequently referenced books on my shelf. They don’t just report what people are searching for, but also what our porn searches say about us. For example, among their many fascinating findings was that the most popular search term on Pornhub was “mom.” But it’s not just that—searches for MILFs, cougars, and mature women were also quite popular. So why is that? As they explain, part of the appeal resides in the fact that a lot of heterosexual men are drawn to self-confident and sexually experienced women—women who will take the lead in bed. Of course, this book covers far more than just MILF porn—it explores the vast diversity that exists in people’s porn searches and preferences.

Galileo’s Middle Finger by Alice Dreger. This book explores the tension that exists when the conclusions of scientific research conflict with people’s personal identities and politics. This tension often arises when scientists study things like sex and gender because the results of this research don’t always confirm people’s preexisting beliefs about the world or tell them exactly what they want to hear. And that’s where trouble often begins. Dreger documents a series of conflicts between scientists and activists, while also offering practical lessons in how to deal with uncomfortable scientific conclusions in productive ways that will ultimately lead to truth and justice. Check out my full review of this book here.

Sex and Punishment: Four Thousand Years of Judging Desire by Eric Berkowitz. History is full of examples of government and religious authorities going to great lengths to regulate people’s sex lives. By today’s standards, many of the older laws—and their corresponding punishments—seem, well, downright absurd. Case in point: “In ancient Greece and Rome, the husbands of adulterous women had several options for revenge. Most of the punishments allowed a husband to shame his rival by inserting foreign objects, such as spiky fish and radishes, into his anus.” This fascinating book explores the myriad ways in which societies and cultures throughout history (and still to this day) have tried to regulate sexual behavior through the law, and how these laws usually had little to do with actually dispensing justice.

The Birth of the Pill: How Four Crusaders Reinvented Sex and Launched a Revolution by Jonathan Eig. The birth control pill is something that a lot of us take for granted today, but there's actually an extremely interesting story behind it. The "birth" of the birth control pill is a tale of many great secrets, lies, and bluffs. It includes a colorful set of characters, too, including a woman with a dream (Margaret Sanger), a wealthy widow (Katherine McCormick), and a scientist who was fired from Harvard for experimenting with in-vitro fertilization in the 1930s (Gregory Pincus). It’s truly a fascinating read.

Insatiable Wives: Women Who Stray and the Men Who Love Them by David Ley. Curious about the psychology of cuckolding? This is your book! Ley interviewed dozens of male-female couples from around the United States who were engaged in a “cuckolding” or “hotwifing” lifestyle, in which the men get aroused by watching or knowing that their female partners are having sex with other men. He explores the history of the practice, the controversies and taboos surrounding it (including the frequent interracial themes), as well as how it impacts people’s relationships.

This should be enough to get you started for now; however, if you’re in need of additional reading suggestions in this area, scroll to the bottom of the Sex and Psychology Store, where you’ll find a more extensive list of recommendations. And, of course, if you haven’t already done so, check out my book Tell Me What You Want: The Science of Sexual Desire and How It Can Help You Improve Your Sex Life if you want to learn more about the science of sexual fantasies—including tips on how to talk to a partner about them and potentially incorporate them into your sex life.

Here’s to some happy (and sexy) lockdown reading time!

Want to learn more about Sex and Psychology? Click here for previous articles or follow the blog on Facebook (facebook.com/psychologyofsex), Twitter (@JustinLehmiller), or Reddit (reddit.com/r/psychologyofsex) to receive updates. You can also follow Dr. Lehmiller on YouTube and Instagram.

Image Source: 123RF/loganban 

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[ladyloveandjustice]

Winter 2019 Anime Overview

I enjoyed every single one of the five anime I watched this season: Dororo, My Roommate is a Cat, Mob Psycho 100 II, The Promised Neverland and Kaguya-sama: Love is War.

So here are my reviews! I’ve cut back on the anime overview a lot, so these are shorter reviews than usual (though not quite as short at I’d like. someday I’ll be able to restrain myself)

Since I liked all of the shows, these aren’t in a strict worst-to-best order or anything, but the ones I found most impressive ARE nearer to the bottom. So let’s dig into last season’s anime.

My Roommate is a Cat

Premise: An antisocial writer in his early 20s adopts a cat and they both get their worlds expanded as they bond.

My take: Much like the kitty it centers on, this show is super cute, sweet and fluffy. If you’re a cat-lover and want to bask in some kitty adorableness, I encourage you to check it out. At first, I was afraid the main character Subaru’s grumpy misanthropy might be too much- I could certainly empathize with being socially isolated and avoiding people, but the way he was just rude toward others was grating. Fortunately, his character development is swift, so he quickly went from misanthrope to anxious-introverted-mess-who-awkwardly-muddles-through-social-interaction-for-the-sake-of-his-kitty, which I found EXTREMELY relatable. Subaru is coping with the loss of his parents and the fact he took them for granted while they were alive as well, so there are quite a few heart-string tugging moments.

The show’s central gimmick is that events will be told from Subaru’s point of view and then we’ll get his kitty Haru’s side of things. Yep, the cat narrates part of the show, which is how I knew I was in it for good. And Haru’s a very good cat! She’s adorable without being cloying, and at least realistic in how most of her thoughts revolve around food. Seeing her warm up to her hopeless human is just as sweet as seeing Subaru warm up to her. As a former stray cat, she has a rough backstory, so if even a restrained depiction of kitty death is too much for you, look out for that part. This show isn’t afraid to bring the feels, but it keeps things positive overall. Subaru’s friends are supportive and help a new pet owner out, and we even get a cute doggie in the mix. Overall, if you want a relaxing, nice watch with a simple, sweet story, you could do a lot worse than My Roommate is a Cat.

Dororo (Episodes 1-12)

Premise: Thanks to his father making a deal with demons, Hyakkimaru has to wander Japan and fight monsters to get his body parts back. He meets up with a young thief named Dororo.

My take: Dororo is a very loose adaptation of the 1960′s manga by Osamu Tezuka, who’s known as the godfather of manga. I was familiar with Dororo thanks to watching the live action movie for an article when I worked at epicstream (it must not have left an impression bc I remember very little) so I was curious to check this out. I ended up reading the manga too, and overall, I find it pretty impressive as an adaptation. It does a lot to make a really dated and incomplete-feeling manga more palatable and cohesive for a modern audience. Maybe I’ll do a full post expanding on those thoughts sometime, because the changes really are worth examining.

Dororo is definitely not for everyone- it’s a grim, dark show with lots of death and destruction.The story is especially not kind to women, who tend to die or be demons. The exceptions to this (such as a lady demon actually being presented as sympathetic) are mainly anime-original. Actually, while the anime eschews the original manga’s cartoon-y, jokey tone to be more serious, it actually has a much lower body count and more hopeful tone than the original, a contrast I find pretty interesting. But “more hopeful” is still not very hopeful. The story has pretty strong anti-war undertones and criticism of how authority exploits people, and there’s a lot of “these are the horrors of war” scenes and even a scene where Dororo witnesses a woman engaging in unhappy, reluctant sex work.

The premise of the story, a guy made up of mostly prosthetics on a quest to get his body parts and senses back, is also a dicey one in how it treats disability. The anime does at least make updates to the manga that lend the story a little more complexity on that front. In the manga Hyakkimaru can basically hear and speak through telepathy already and he’s portrayed as simply joyous whenever he gets a body part or sense back, despite not having a practical need for them.

The anime wisely jettisons the telepathy thing, meaning that Dororo and Hyakkimaru have some difficulty communicating, something that adds an interesting layer to the story. It means we find out about Hyakkimaru’s personality in bits and pieces alongside Dororo, going on a journey of discovery with him. And Hyakkimaru getting senses back is treated in a more realistic mixed-bag way- when he gets his hearing back, for instance, he has difficulty adjusting to it and experience serious sensory overload. It’s not really clear how he feels about a lot of things, much less the changes he’s going through.

Dororo himself is the heart of the show, really, and I find him to be really endearing and engaging as a character. His boundless energy and chattiness balance out the aloof Hyakkimaru, but he never gets overbearing or obnoxious. He’s been through a lot himself, and has a good heart. One thing worth keeping an eye out going forward is how Dororo’s gender will be handled. Dororo is afab, but in the original manga very vehemently lets everyone know he’s a boy. The anime also lets you know Dororo’s afab halfway through, but hasn’t really done much otherwise in exploring Dororo’s gender identity. I do think it’s unlikely we’ll get a handling of it as bad as the manga’s final chapters (Manga Hyakkimaru had a lot of strong, intrusive opinions about what Dororo “really” is that I think his anime version is unlikely to have based on his restrained characterization so far), but who knows.

Overall, Dororo is a nicely animated and well put-together dark action series so far. I’m not sure I would have ended up watching it if I wasn’t so interested in examining it as an adaptation, but the ride’s been pretty okay and worthwhile.

Kaguya-sama: Love is War

Premise: Miyuki Shirogane and Kaguya Shinomiya are the top students at their prestigious school, and heads of the student council. They also have a crush on each other, but both are too full of pride (and nerves) to make the first move, so they come up with schemes to trick the other into confessing. Hijinks ensue.

My take: Kaguya-sama is a wildly funny rom-com about two idiot smart kids who don’t know how to say how they feel. It’s mostly a really good time. There’s a lot of laugh-out-loud moments. The characters are a lot of fun, especially Kaguya’s friend Chica, who is pure chaos in human form and has some of the best lines in the show. The animation and direction of the show are also impressive and lavish, elevating already good gags into greatness. The finale also does that thing where it’s all suddenly surprisingly emotional and hits you really hard with all the feels, showing a little depth and true friendship among all the characters involved.

However,there are a few “yikes” moments, and the most uncomfortable one and likely the biggest deal breaker was the “Kaguya gets sick” arc, which happens roughly the last half of episode 9 and the start of 10. In it, we’re treated to tropes that are both really tired and really uncomfortable, like Kaguya being sick and her friend, for some reason???, tacitly encouraging Miyuki to take advantage of her in her weakened state. Miyuki does not, but Kaguya pulls him into bed and he falls asleep due to sleep deprivation (which is admittedly relatable) and when they wake up she believes for a time he did assault her and throws shit at him, at which point he whines about being villainized even though he “held back”.

During the next episode, Kaguya is ~secretly kind of upset he didn’t assault her because doesn’t he find her appealing~, a trope that really needs to die bc the myth girls “really want to be assaulted” is dangerous. There were a couple okay moments in the whole thing, like Miyuki deciding he should have shut the whole thing down more firmly and apologizing for an infraction, and since Miyuki didn’t cross a significant line it doesn’t ruin their relationship or make them impossible to root for or anything, but the whole thing is tired and gross and unnecessary and not all that funny. I was able to handle it because I got warned ahead of time, but it was a chore of an arc, so here’s my warning.

The Promised Neverland

Premise: Emma and her friends Ray and Norman are orphans being raised in the happy, idyllic Grace Field House. They’re never been outside it though, and there’s a wall they’re never supposed to approach. When Emma discovers the truth behind the orphanage, a tense thriller begins.

My take: I was looking forward to this one based on word of mouth, and mostly it doesn’t disappoint! The writing hooked me enough that I’ve picked up the manga to continue the story. This a rich story. It’s an intense game of cat and mouse between genius kids and unscrupulous adults where the stakes are super high. Emma and her friends pull out all the stops to outwit and escape the ones holding them captive, and the twists and turns of the narrative are delivered well. There’s also some social commentary buried under its horror to add some bite. This essay goes into how it comments on forced societal gender roles, for instance.

 A thrilling plot can only shine thanks to its characters, and Emma is great protagonist. Her determination to save her family and unpredictable nature make her fun to follow. She’s a rare and refreshing example of a female shonen protag, and she sells that power of friendship stuff pretty well when she has the brains and skills to back it up. The three main kids balance each other well, with Ray’s cynicism and pragmatism contrasting Emma’s stubborn idealism, and Norman stands in the middle as someone who’s inclined to think like Ray but WANTS to be more like Emma. Despite the many conflicts and differences between them, these kids are ride and die, and the show does a good job selling their familial-friendship. A lot of the moments between them are truly heartwrenching.

The story has a big glaring flaw, though, and that’s Sister Krone and the racism regarding her. It’s not my lane, so please read Jackson P. Brown’s essay here for more info. The anime not only replicates the problem with her design but makes things arguably worse than the manga by making her personality a caricature as well. The anime portrays Krone as far more unhinged and exaggerated than her vindictive but more controlled and canny manga counterpart, even adding this weird thing where she rants at and beats up a doll. This review on episode 8 talks about the author feels the anime failed with sister Krone and his feelings on Krone as a black character well, it’s definitely worth a read.

While I have those issues with the anime’s choices, I was impressed with how the last few episodes were directed. They hit it out of the park, leaving me breathless, emotional and wanting more. Thanks to that, I’m now reading an enthralling adventure manga! This anime was definitely flawed but I can’t deny I’m interested in seeing how the second season will shake out.

Mob Psycho 100 II

Premise: Season 2 continues to tale of Mob, a ridiculously powerful psychic middle schooler.  He’s in the employ of Reigen, a con-artist who has fooled many (Mob included) into thinking he has legitimate psychic abilities.

My take: Holy wow. Mob Psycho’s first season had some incredible animation, atmosphere and direction, but season two fires on all cylinders. I’m glad I caught up in time to experience the show with everyone else these last few weeks, because it was always a treat- a visual feast full of heartpumping action and lots of sincere emotion.

Mob Psycho is an animation extravaganza, with some sequences that wouldn’t feel out of place in a high budget movie, dripping with atmosphere, artistry and aplomb. But the story and characters are really solid too and it has some nice themes and messages at its core. Mob is one of the goodest good boys in all of anime and he grows a lot throughout this season. At the core of the show is the idea that no one is worthless and also no one is more “special” than anyone else, that having power doesn’t give you the right to put yourself above others, that no person is inherently superior or inferior to any other, that even if you’re born with some super talent, you still need to try to improve yourself, value other people and the things they can do that you can’t and work hard to live a balanced life. Being powerful or born with a talent doesn’t mean you have the answers or know better-so it’s all about striving to make good, compassionate choices and taking control of your own life.

There’s a lot of stories that pay lip service to themes like these without really doing much to back it up, but this show sells it with an earnestness that few manage. Mob is a quiet and gentle boy, and you genuinely believe it when he says he doesn’t like fighting or using his powers on other people, and when he breaks down in tears because for all his power he can’t figure out how to set someone on the right path this time, your heart aches. The fact that Mob actually has difficulty coming up with the right answers and will sometimes gets overwhelmed by emotion and loses control, but keeps striving for honest communication, makes his approach come off as a lot more believable than the typical shonen-hero-converting-bad-guys-with-a-confident-friendship-speech bit.

The character relationships in the show are also good stuff, particularly the relationship between Mob and Reigen, which develops a lot this season with Reigen having to grapple with how yeah, he’s been kinda terrible and dishonest, especially with this kid he cares about and there’s a point where people have enough of it. There’s a lot of nice growth there.

All together, Mob Psycho is just Good with capital G. I do wish there were more girls in it, and there is a dark skinned character who’s caricature-ish in his design (he barely shows up in this season iirc), but otherwise it’s a quality rec and breathtaking example of the truly transcendent heights anime can reach. 

[beatlebrainiacs-blog]

Issue Number 36, Part 2

Hello and thank you for joining us for another week! We are delving into the second half of issue 36 of the Beatles Book.

Let’s start with these throwback shots of the fab four during their 1964 trip to Australia and New Zealand. (If you’ll recall, this issue of the magazine came out in July of 1966.)

The first section we’re getting into is the “Letters from Beatle People.” 

This time around we’ve chosen a letter from Margaret Redfern of Morecambe and Heysham.

Margaret asked the band’s road manager, Neil Aspinall if the Beatles minded fans asking for their autographs when they were out and about with their wives and friends.

Neil responded that the band members preferred to enjoy their nights out like regular people, because once someone asked for an autograph then a swarm of people would follow!

The first shot above is a still from the film “A Hard Day’s Night” wherein George is mistaken for a male model. The bottom shot shows Paul prepping his pretty self in the mirror!

After the letter section, we get into the “Behind the Spotlight” article. 

Editor Johnny Dean takes us back to July of 1964 (back when the first photos were taken). The fab four made quite a stir “down under,” but not everyone was happy to see them.

A crowd of teenagers in Brisbane stirred us trouble by throwing rotten eggs, old pies and large pieces of wood at the Beatles. 

Luckily for the pranksters, the police caught up with them before the thousands of rabid fans did. The boys said they just wanted to see if the band could handle it. 

Behind the scenes John apparently had some choice words to say about the young people behind the scenes.

After that another group of young men infiltrated the Beatles’ hotel in an attempt to track down the band members and cut off their hair (WAT?!). The would-be perps were caught hiding in a linen closet by a chambermaid. They said they attempted the prank to impress their girlfriends...okay...

Ringo, looking like he got caught in mid-sentence, or mid singing!

After leaving “down under,” the Beatles flew back to Liverpool to attend a charity screening of the “Hard Day’s Night” film at the Odeon.

They then did a sort of “victory tour” across their hometown.

They had a lot to celebrate in July of 1964, as their latest LP was hot, hot, hot, selling 750,000 advance copies for the single. Their movie grossed one million pounds in its first two weeks in theaters in England alone (and it cost under 250,000 pounds to make!). 

At that time, however, the band had to deal with a lot of unpleasant rumors. Chief among those rumors was that one of the members was planning to leave. Ringo was the member people most said was on his way out. Luckily for us, none of it was true!

Finally, Dean relayed that the fab four ended July of 1964 planning a 27-day, 24-city American tour for August! (Tune in next week to learn more about that!)

Oh, Paul. We always love those doe-eyes!

Next up in the magazine, we’ve got Neil’s Column. For those who might not remember, this is a column written by the Beatles’ road manager Neil Aspinall.

This time around Neil wrote out the schedule for a day of shooting the band did for television spots featuring their new songs (we’re back in 1966!) “Paperback Writer” and “Rain.” 

Here is that schedule:

8:00 a.m.: The band left for EMI studios.

9:45 a.m.: The band arrived at EMI studios and went into makeup.

10:20 a.m.: The band rehearsed.

10:40 a.m.: The band played “Rain” for shots.

11:00 a.m.: They watched the playback of the “Rain” shoot.

12:05 p.m.: The band had a belated breakfast of boiled eggs and buttered toast.

12:30 p.m.: A generate broke down, delaying shooting.

1:10: The band played for “Paperback Writer” shots.

2:00: Lunch break.

3:15: The band arrived back at EMI.

3:10-6:15 p.m.: The band performed for black and white shots (the previous were shot in color) of both songs. There was a panic because the final sequence had to be complete by 6:30! They managed to finish by 6:32 p.m.

We absolutely love Ringo in this shot. This is from another promotional shoot the band did for “Paperback Writer” at a fancy, historic home. (Check out last week’s blog for more about that!)

Finally, let’s talk about the “Song of the Month” in issue 36. Surprise, surprise, it was “Paperback Writer!”

The magazine included a photo of the actual words Paul wrote for the song on the back of a photograph.

Alex’s parents bought us a really cool book called “Beatles Lyrics” by Hunter Davies that explains the back story behind the Beatles’ songs and, specifically, the lyrics. 

For “Paperback Writer,” the book explains that Paul came up with the idea for the song while driving to John’s house. Paul thought it would be interesting to write a song in the form of an actual letter. You can see he really did that with the lyrics.

(By the way, the name Ian Iachimoe, is a joke from Paul, as it’s what he said his name sounds like when played backwards.)

According to the book, an author named Peter Royston Ellis thought he was the paperback writer to whom the Beatles were referring.

The book says paperbacks became a phenomenon in Britain following World War II, so it’s likely that had some inspiration for Paul. However, Paul was mostly inspired by putting the rhythm of a letter into a song.

Fun fact: you can hear John and George singing bits of “Frere Jacques” during the song. It was also Paul’s idea to put some of that classic tune into the song!

And we end now with this shot of Ringo on the back cover of issue 36!

[darklightsworld]

One more Lanyon series down. This past week I devoured the four volumes of the Holmes & Moriarity series. Don’t worry, this time I won’t bore you with such a long post, but I do recommend this series :D

I was actually quite reluctant to check out this series, because I don’t like amateur sleuths as much as cops and FBI, and the blurbs of the books weren’t that appealing, but as it turned out the blurbs don’t do the stories any justice and in some cases they are outright wrong. This is a fun series with much less emotional strain than some others (the previous The Art of Murder books included). In this series of currently four books we follow cozy mystery author Christopher “Kit“ Holmes (39-40) and hardboiled mystery author and ex-cop Julian Xavier “J.X.“ Moriarity (34-35). Your brain is probably reading the name of the latter as Moriarty (I know mine did till it was pointed out in the book ^^;;), but it’s Moriarity, and this is not a fanfic or anything.

Kit is our protagonist, and we get the story from him in a first person narrative with a unique, deadpan humor. Usually I’m not really a fan of first person narratives, but for this series it’s a must, it would be a mistake otherwise. Hearing Kit’s thoughts and sarcastic comments is very funny, I was laughing out loud on several occasions XD Kit is a very complex and human hero. In the first book I was kind of annoyed by some of his things, but even those were understandable, as he’s a guy whose self-esteem hit rock bottom both professionally and romantically, not to mention his new lover is younger, hotter and at the peak of success. Later Kit’s “eccentric“ behavior turned out to be pretty much like me hating to socialize, hating having to deal with the family of others, taking it hard if others try to push him faster and/or in directions he doesn’t want to go.

So for this reason I was occasionally annoyed by J.X., who is actually portrayed as way too perfect. He’s hot, very nice, very much in love, he just shouldn’t rush and give career advice or comment of Kit’s working process ^^; He reminded me a lot of my situation with my dad, who had/has a tendency to think and say that I would sure pass this or that test easily or write this or that essay/article/thesis/whatever in a blink of an eye when I try to voice my troubles or just show discomfort. Well, even if it’s true (and often it’s not), it’s like those who say these don’t acknowledge your efforts and your hard work - makes my blood boil >< Anyway, Kit figuring out his career and also making his relationship with J.X. are the main points of the series - aside from solving murders Kit gets involved with XD;;;

As for these murders, the first two books are reminiscent of the cozy mystery style Kit writes (the Agatha Christie style), so it was hard for me to get into the first book, but it gets exponentially better with every book, and starting with the third there’s a slight shift, too. Fortunately it’s not over yet, although the last book is supposed to be published next year. I kind of hope Kit will regain some of his former success by then and can also figure out where to go from there - just cut the guy some slack ^^;;; Btw, the series is also great for publishing industry meta.

Lastly some of my fave quotes - I had to make a real effort not to howl on the bus when I read these. Beware of sex related deadpan humor XDDD

His index finger pushed inside and my muscles clenched in instant how-very-dare-you reflex.

That’s the thing about sex. So much of it is just plain awkward, clumsy, are-you-sure-this-is-going-to-fit-I-think-they-forgot-to-include-the-washers.

Insert Tab P into Slot A… And where was the instruction manual when you needed it?

So yeah, recommended =D

[holtbaest]

lmaoooo but tom wilson is a goon, hes a dirty player and nothing about him says "power forward"or whatever the fuck you were talking about. tom wilson sucks and its time you and the rest of the girls on here who are in love with him just because you think hes "hot" need to realize that

ok LISTEN. first of all, keep your tom wilson hate out of my inbox. let’s just get that out of the way right now. alright, moving on.

clearly you have no idea what a power forward is, because you said, and I quote, “whatever the fuck you were talking about”, so let’s review that first. according to wikipedia, a power forward is “a forward who is big and strong, equally capable of playing physically or scoring goals and would most likely have high totals in both points and penalties.” wikipedia ALSO mentions that power forwards are also often referred to as the ‘complete’ hockey player.“ (source) wikipedia not a good enough source? ok, let’s look at a bleacher report article, where the author defines power forward as “a big guy who puts up points and likes to throw his weight around.” (source) let’s throw in another definition, just for good measure…oh, how about one from former NHL head coach Barry Melrose: “There is a certain criteria a player has to fulfill to meet my definition of a great power forward. He has to be a frontline player, he has to be very physical and he has to fight. A power forward to me is not just a big guy who scores goals. He is a big, mean, nasty, physical, tough guy to play against as well as being a very good hockey player.” specifically, they “have a lot of penalty minutes, they have a lot of goals, but they [are] also the type of guy the other team didn’t like to play against.” (source) so, to put it neatly, the main components of a power forward in the NHL are:

1. high point production2. physicality3. lots of PIM

now that we’re all clear on the definition of a power forward, let’s move into what we all came here to talk about, tom wilson. let’s look at his stats from the past 3 years and compare them.

(source) (these stats haven’t been updated after tonight’s game, so his GP is at 66 and he tallied another assist tonight which brings him to 20 on the season and 100 career points)

even just looking at his goals, assists, and point totals you can see the offensive improvement. PLUS the 15-16 and 16-17 stats are for a full 82-game season, but he’s only played 66 games so far this year. he’s ALREADY surpassed all 3 of those stats. additionally, look at the MASSIVE increase in shooting percentage he’s had this season! he went from 7.4% last year to 11.1% this year. that’s a team-wide top-10 stat.

speaking of team-wide stats, let’s check on a few other stats and see where he falls this season (team stats accurate prior to tonight’s game):average TOI: 10th (15:50)points: 7th (30)+/-: 6th (+7)

another interesting stat to look at is point shares, or an estimate of the number of points contributed by a player. his PS for this season is 2.8, ranked 12th on the team! and then we have OPS (points contributed by a player due to his offense) and DPS (points contributed by a player due to his defense). wilson’s OPS is 1.3 and his DPS is 1.4, ranked 10th and 8th on the team respectively. those are great stats!

(team stats source)

still not convinced on his offensive production? let’s look at an article RMNB published titled “Tom Wilson is the new bacon bits” (source) where they discussed Wilson’s top-line production. I could re-type the important points but I think a screenshot will suffice, no? here are some fun stats on how wilson has improved the two lines he’s skated with the most this season:

but point production and good offense isn’t the only marker of a power forward, right? I know what you must be saying right about now: “but what about his penalties?! he’s such a dirty player! he spends so much time in the box!!” yeah. yeah he does. but remember the second and third points we listed at the beginning? physicality and lots of PIM. wilson is currently ranked 2nd in the league in PIM with 166 on the season (source). he is ranked 8th in the league in hits with 207 (source). so yeah. but I would like to point something out about his penalties. some of the calls against him are due to what I like to call the “Skating While Tom Wilson Effect”. wilson gets called on some things that other players don’t because of his reputation. and whose fault is that, you may ask? yeah, it’s his. because in prior seasons, he was more of a goon. but this season I think he’s trying to distance himself from that label and grow into the player we thought and hoped he would be when he was drafted. he doesn’t take nearly as many boneheaded penalties as he used to. and I am by no means trying to excuse every time he gets sent to the sin bin, because sometimes he does something stupid or blatant and you’re like “oh that’s definitely 2 minutes.” but tom wilson is by NO means the only player to whom that applies. you’re telling me that your fave player has never done something stupid to get sent to the box? I don’t think so.

I would ALSO like to add something that not a lot of people (especially people who share your opinions, anon) talk about, and that is the fact that while tom wilson spends a lot of time in the box, he also draws a lot of penalties. wilson has drawn 30 penalties this season, which not only leads the team, but is also tied for 7th in the league so far. so yes, he spends a lot of time in the box, but he offsets it by drawing on average .462 penalties a game. (source)

bottom line, tom wilson has been playing top-6 minutes this season and he deserves it.

ok so. we’ve talked about tom wilson a lot. now I would like to talk about something else. don’t you DARE insinuate that I, or any of my friends, only like players because of how they look, or that we don’t know what we’re talking about, or that we are lesser fans than you. I am so fucking tired of being looked down on as a female sports fan. we do not have to prove ourselves to anyone, we do not have to show you how much we know, because, quite frankly, we don’t owe you shit.

also, SO FUCKING WHAT if people like to look at players because they think they’re pretty? you think male sports fans have never looked at, oh I don’t know, women’s beach volleyball players and gone “oh yeah, she’s hot”? you can bet your fucking sexist ass they have. so, with no due respect, shut the fuck up.

don’t you fucking dare come at me with this sexist shit again. I am so over it.

[surrounded-by-superheroes]

The Soldier and the Assistant

Summary; You run into a mysterious stranger on the street while running late for work and spill coffee all over yourself in the process. Later, you find out the man was none other than James Buchanan Barnes and your company is about to write a story about him. The thing is, he’ll only talk to you. As you get to know one another, you both start realizing this relationship is a little more than work. Will both of you let the romance bloom? Or kill it before it starts?

Author’s Note; This is a lot of fun and I love writing fun stuff. Want to be tagged? Tell me. Much love, your author.

Warnings; Language, work harassment.

Words; 2,149

Chapter One

Coffee

“Ah, fuck.” I murmur and hear sniggers behind me. Turning around, I see dissatisfied parents staring at me while their children laugh at my cursing. “I am so sorry.” I apologize and instantly fly to the barista when my name is called. After hiking my purse further up my arm, I head over and grab the little thing that holds four coffees.

“You’re late again.” Adrian is kind enough to remind me. My breath leaves my lips in a huff at the comment and the clinking of change in the tip jar kills my already aching head.

“Thanks, asshole. See you this evening?” I phrase it like a question but don’t have time to wait for his answer. The grumpy parents continue to stare at my bumbling self as I walk out the door and hurry down the street. “Fuck you too, rude asshole parents.” The insult escapes my lips and drifts away on the breeze while I dodge people walking on the New York streets. “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late so I’m fucked, I’m fucked, I’m so fucking fucked.” I continue talking to myself and earn quite a few strange looks. Finally, I see the office doors and breathe a sigh of relief before running coffee first into someone’s chest. I bounce off and release the coffee, landing hard on my ass. Then, the coffee comes down on top of my lap. “Aw, fuck.” I groan as the brown, hot, liquid seeps into my blue button-down shirt and black slacks. As quick as I can I straighten the coffee cups in their little holders, but find one is missing. At last, I look up at the hulking figure I ran into.

“Are you alright?” He asks in a deep voice like gravel and offers me a hand. I take it and feel the roughness contrast with my hands as he raises me up. Slowly, I nod, feeling the amount of liquid in each cup.

“Well, the cold isn’t bothering me anymore and I have enough coffee left for me to last a couple hours, so sure.” I respond and button my jacket with one hand so I don’t look too atrocious.

“This coffee is all for you?” He asks incredulously, blue eyes widening so the blue is even more apparent. I’m still looking around for the missing coffee cup, but take a moment to look at the handsome stranger. No idea how he managed to escape without a drop of coffee on him.

“Three for me.” I correct him and check my watch one more time. “Look, I’m sorry about the bump, but I’m horribly late.” I excuse myself and get ready to walk away, but an insistent hand on my arm makes me pause.

“I did manage to catch one…” He tells me with a very slight amused smile, holding out the cup with a gloved hand. Weird, his other hand doesn’t have a glove on. I take the cup and nearly scream.

“Oh, thank god. This is my boss’s coffee! You just saved my life!” I tell him and duck under his baseball cap to kiss his scruffy cheek. “I love you, stranger. Thank you so much!” I pat his shoulder and scurry into my building. The elevator is luckily open and I duck in, nearly running over a poor intern. “Sorry!” I apologize and hit the twelfth floor. My foot taps up and down as we go up and I’m pretty sure the tiny girl in a pencil skirt behind me is about to gouge my eyes out, but luckily the doors open and I’m out like a shot. My flats hit the tile floor quickly and repetitively until I’ve finally reached my boss’s office. My steps slow and I enter the space quietly. Jim’s blond head is bent over as he scribbles down something on his notepad. Gingerly, I set the cup to the right of his laptop on the little coaster there and start walking out.

“Hey, I need copies of the uh, uh…” He waves a hand in the air as if the idea will magically fly into his head if he just waves enough.

“Jennifer’s report? You’ve already got it.” I tell him and gesture to the left side of his desk. His hazel eyes widen and he reaches over, laughing slightly when he reads the title.

“Well, you are the best. Thanks for the coffee, by the way.” He tells me and I nod once, taking this as his dismissal of me. I head to my desk and sit down with a sigh, putting my head in my hands a moment. The wet feeling of my clothes makes me feel nasty, so I stand and take off my jacket, then carefully slip off the tank top I have underneath. My nose scrunches up as I set it on my chair, wet side on the back to dry. My button down is thin, so it’s nearly dry already. After making sure it’s still tucked in I shrug my jacket back on and sit back down. The life of a secretary is basically hell, but money is a pretty great thing to have. Plus, running everywhere keeps me in shape. Jim is a big reporter and his name means everything. It is the name at the end of the front page most every day and that’s because he’s good at his job. I worked my way here from the very bottom, but still haven’t had a single story published. Sighing, I look at the folder full of stories I’ve written. Either I really suck or Jim is biased against me. Honestly, I don’t know if that would be an insult or a compliment.

“Hey, get in here!” Jim bids me and I’m up in a second, grabbing a notebook and pencil on my way. I walk into his office but instantly slow when I see he isn’t alone. Steve Rogers is here, as well as the nice stranger from earlier. Now, his hat is off which reveals those burning eyes and shoulder length dark hair. Fuck, I ran into and fell on my ass in front of James Buchanan Barnes. Sheepishly, I shoot a tiny wave his way.

“Uh, yes sir?” I put my attention back on Jim as he stands and walks over to me. He lays a hand uncomfortably low on my back and guides me to the side of the room the soldiers stand on. Both men narrow their eyes at him, but I keep a smile on my face.

“I’m sure you know who these two men are. Gentlemen, this is my assistant.” He introduces me and I step forward out of Jim’s reach to shake both their hands.

“A pleasure to meet you. Thank you both for your service.” I tell them genuinely and shock registers on both their faces before Steve smiles and Bucky smirks.

“Thank you.” Steve nods to me and I give him a smile before Jim’s arm is around my shoulders and my smile disappears.

“I thought you could sit in on an interview and run a byline with me. How about that?” He whispers in my ear and I perk up at his words, forgetting for a moment that he’s touching me.

“A byline. Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.” I manage to squeak out in a voice several octaves higher than my normal tone.

“Great!” I flinch at the volume of Jim’s voice and frown when he kisses my cheek. Discreetly, I wipe it away and gesture for Steve and Bucky to sit down. Steve walks over and does so when Jim sits down, Bucky and I however, both remain standing. His eyes watch me carefully, but switch between Jim and I when he begins to speak. “So, obviously I’m happy to do the story. I’m thinking three meetings. Whatever times and days are the best for you, just talk with my assistant.” Jim tells the two men as I write down a couple things, including questions to ask them later if allowed.

“No.” Bucky’s voice is quiet, but commands the room. All eyes turn to him, but Steve. Steve just sighs. Blue eyes burn into hazel as Bucky stares at Jim, seemingly sizing him up. Bucky is most definitely bulkier than Jim, but they’re about the same height. Jim’s jaw is sharp and there are slight depressions under his eyes from late nights, that’s one thing we share. Now, he leans back in his chair as Bucky glares down at him, making him seem small. “I’ll meet with her in a neutral location until you have what’s needed. That’s it.” My mouth pops open at the ultimatum and I swear I see the corner of his mouth turn up slightly when he glances at me. Jim rubs his hands and lips together as he ponders this. His eyes look to Steve, but Steve just shrugs and lets loose another deep sigh.

“Would you be alright with that arrangement?” Jim asks and looks over at me expectantly. I nod quickly. Jim’s face looks disappointed, but he nods once at me. “Alright, that settles it. Talk and figure out where and when to meet. I’ll notify both of you before the article comes out and send you a draft beforehand. Thank you.” He tells them, then stands and shakes both of their hands.

“I’ll escort you out.” I tell them and stand up myself, standing beside the door as both huge men walk out. Shutting the door behind me, I walk them to my desk first. “Uh, so do you already have a date and place in mind or do you just want my number and we’ll figure it out when you have the time?” I ask, grabbing my phone and letting my thumb hover over my calendar.

“Number please. I don’t have my, uh…planner, with me at the moment.” Bucky, I think he just teased me? It brings a small smile to my face and I rip off two sticky notes, writing my name and number on both.

“Alright, my phone is always on me, so call or text me with any concerns and tell me when and where to meet you.” I tell him and hand both men a sticky note, then offer my hand. Steve shakes it and walks to the elevator with a knowing glance at Bucky. Bucky takes the note and tucks it into his jean pocket.

“Thank you. Try to be more careful with your coffee next time.” He tells me and shakes my hand gently, then walks after Steve. I release a pent-up breath and plop down in my seat. My hand grabs a coffee cup of its own volition and I down it in a few gulps. The cup makes a nice sound when I toss it in the garbage and brings with it the knowledge that I have the energy to complete a day’s work. Especially with two other coffees waiting for me. Albeit, not completely full coffees. I crack my knuckles and sit up.

“Let’s do this.”

*          *          *          *          *          *        *          *          *         *

*Bucky’s POV*

“I can feel your fucking eyes on me, Steve.” I grumble and hear his light chuckle from the fridge.

“Mmhmm. Just like your eyes were on her?” Steve teases and I look up from unbagging the groceries to glare at him, then continue.

“Did you see the way he handled her?” I can’t help but ask him, glancing at him while I hand him things to put away. Steve nods with a frown.

“Yeah, but Buck, we don’t know the whole story. It isn’t our place.” He reminds me and I grumble again, earning an eyeroll.

“I remember saying that to you in a bar in the forties. Do you remember what your small, asthmatic ass did?” I ask, setting the gallon of milk on the counter a little harder than I should. Steve sighs and shuts the fridge door to lean against it. “You got up and punched a two-hundred and fifty-pound man in the face.” The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts and he rubs his jaw where the man then punched him, giving him his third concussion.

“I think I remember someone else throwing a few punches as well.” He tells me, those blue, earnest eyes glowing happily at the memory.

“Someone had to bail your stupid ass out.” I say, finally handing him the milk to put away.

“Times are different now, Buck.” Steve recalls quietly and I sigh at the reminder.

“That’s right. Now, what he’s doing is illegal.” I sass with spite, handing the last bag to Steve to put away.

“What’re you going to do about it, Buck?” Steve questions, leaning back against the counter while I take my phone out. I face him and bring the phone up to my ear.

“Something.”

[obscurewatch]

The Retribution Newspaper

The newspaper is visible at 1.53 in the video.

We can see the silhouettes of Reaper, Mc Cree and Genji. On the left, security camera footage showing Mc Cree when BlackWatch’s Rome base gets destroyed in an explosion. 

Surprise surprise, it’s not blurry nonsense NOR lorem ipsum ! Took me a while but I got to to the bottom of it, here’s what it says :

"Nations around the world are hit by Islamist terrorist attacks, starting with New Year’s Day, when a gunman from Uzbekistan opens fire in a nightclub in Istanbul killing 39 people. The so-called Islamic State claims responsibility. The gunman had trained in Afghanistan according to Turkish authorities. On March 22, a man drives a car into pedestrians on a pavement along Westminster Bridge in London. Four people are killed. The perpetrator, a Briton who had converted to Islam, stabbed a police officer to death before being shot dead by the police. Two months later, a suicide bomber kills 22 people at an Ariana Grande concert at the Arena in Manchester. The dead include ten people aged under 20. Hundreds are injured. In early June, eight people are killed when a van strikes pedestrians on London Bridge. After the van crashed, its three occupants ran to the nearby Borough Market area and began stabbing people in and around restaurants and pubs. Its three occupants are eventually shot dead by police. St Petersburg underground is the target of a suicide bomber on the third of April. Fifteen people die as a result of the attack."

It’s actually a copy-paste of a real news article on euronews from december 26th 2017. So 4-5 months before the Retribution event.

 http://www.euronews.com/2017/12/26/2017-terrorist-attacks-natural-disasters-and-political-upheaval

My theory is that they put that in because of the title of the article.

“Terrorist attacks, natural disasters and political upheaval” to me, it sounds like a summary of the big themes of what’s to come in the lore of Overwatch.

Terrorist attacks : Null Sector and Talon things. Maybe Volskaya too. She’s not above stirring up conflicts, as Doomfist says in Masquerade, she’s more useful to Talon alive than dead, she will “keep the fight going” to make sure the world needs her and her mechs.

Natural disasters : The “anomalies” Mei is warning everyone about and perhaps an explanation as to why it seems that people are living in gigantic circular cities 100km diameter. Did global warming get so bad that people have fled the countryside and smaller cities because of floods, rising sea level, droughts, etc to take refuge in mega cities? Are those cities the only living alternative nowadays? Hopefully we’ll get to find out more “soon” !

Political upheaval : In his comic “Destroyer”, Torbjorn stops a titan mech controlled by his old engineer friend turned nemesis Sven who’s currently showing the world how to get rid of a dictator in Kurjikstan using godly firepower without a thought about the civilian casualties. Sven’s real motive is to show how strong his mechs(s) are to the world so states, governments and other entities will be impressed and commission him a few of those, two birds one stone though. Kurjikstan is a made up country supposedly in the Middle East/Eastern Europe region. To quote Sven “Kurjikstan is a corrupt dictator ship bent on expansion. Its methods are ruthless and immoral. It is a dangerous, increasingly unpredictable player on the global stage”. So surely, there’s going to be quite a lot of political upheaval after this whole thing. Kurjikstan, what’s left of it, will probably get desperate and do something dumb and relentless. It could be the start of the second Omnic Crisis. 

This sign from the Destroyer comic says “аэропорт” which means airport in russian. Is Kurjikstan Russia’s puppet? Or do they just speak russian over there.

Political upheaval is a common theme in the Overwatch lore. The tensions between humans and omnics, the inflation that allows for a bottle of water to cost 600$, Overwatch’s dismantlement, the U.N. being in charge of everything, the assasinations, etc. Political upheaval could be anything.

Back to the Retribution newspaper !

This one is a work in progress. I’d need help from italian speaking folks. Yes, the entire right side of the newspaper is in italian !

This is the part under Mc Cree’s silhouette.

It says 

“ I funzionari veneziani hanno chiesto la calma all'indomani della sparatoria in città. Hanno assicurato che è in corso un'indagine completa e che la causo e i responsabili saranno scoperti. Inoltre, i funzionari insistono sul fatto che non esista una minaccia maggiore per la città e il paese e che cio rappresenta un incidente isolato, piuttosto che un problema più grande

I funzionari sono stati riluttanti a ??? una connessione tra il recente attentato dinamitardo a Roma, tuttavia non hanno escluso la possiblità che i due eventi siano collegati. “

which means

“ The Venetian officials have asked for calm in the aftermath of the shooting in the city.They have assured that a full investigation is underway and that the cause and the perpetrators will be discovered. Furthermore, officials insist that there is no greater threat to the city and the country and that this is an isolated incident rather than a bigger problem. 

Officials have been reluctant to ??? a connection between the recent bomb attack in Rome, however, did not rule out the possibility that the two events are connected. “

So, the Venice officials are covering for Talon, they’re blaming it all on Overwatch. Venice officials confirmed corrupt :/

The other paragraphs are just the first two being repeated.

This is at the bottom of the page, also a work in progress 

it says

“ dei? partecipanti all'attacco sembra essere un ??? che ha subito ??? profonda cibernetica?. Al momento non sono stati rilasciati? dettagli sulla faccia? “

which means

“ the attack participants appear to be ??? that has received ??? serious cybernetics. So far details about the face have not been released. “

So the italian journalists know one of the people on the Blackwatch team “responsible” for the chaos in Venice is a cyborg and the authorities apparently have pictures of the face of one of them, or the faces of all of them, it’s not clear.

Surely the italian authorities know it’s Genji.

So, this newspaper. What to make of it. Huh.

The english part could be a teaser of sort for the upcoming lore, or at least an indication of the general direction the lore will be taking. And the italian part is about the Venice Incident itself, how the media perceived it, what the authorities knew and decided to hide and what it meant for Overwatch as an organization.

I’m sure the first part of the italian page that’s still a work in progress has the most interesting information of the whole page so if you speak italian or know someone who does please contact me !!!

Please double check the newspaper. Don’t take anything I claim for granted ^^

Zoom in, squint your eyes, figure out as many words as you can see, it’s fun, I swear !

If you’re open minded and if you enjoy wasting time hunting for the many obscure things the devs have put in the world of Overwatch, I have an all new discord server :D

https://discord.gg/Eg8pZdn

(free tin foil hat for all new members)