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  • Format: ePub

Sex goes wrong, then finds its footing.
Oops! I Came gathers twenty filthy, funny misadventures told with tenderness and a towel. Here you will meet a Viking felled by a panicked kick, a shiny stranger in a hallway, a crowd that applauds at precisely the wrong time, and a kitchen at midnight where someone butters toast while someone else negotiates a truce with his own body.
Rowan Thornwell writes comedy with a pulse and care with teeth. Consent is clear, aftercare is real, and joy has a habit of returning on schedule. These compact tales turn blushes into belly laughs and shame into
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Produktbeschreibung
Sex goes wrong, then finds its footing.
Oops! I Came gathers twenty filthy, funny misadventures told with tenderness and a towel. Here you will meet a Viking felled by a panicked kick, a shiny stranger in a hallway, a crowd that applauds at precisely the wrong time, and a kitchen at midnight where someone butters toast while someone else negotiates a truce with his own body.

Rowan Thornwell writes comedy with a pulse and care with teeth. Consent is clear, aftercare is real, and joy has a habit of returning on schedule. These compact tales turn blushes into belly laughs and shame into fellowship. The tone is cheeky, humane, and reliably queer, with warnings for hamstrings, lube labelling, and the importance of a well placed pause.

If you have ever cleaned sheets like a crime scene technician, sent a risky photo to far too many people, or needed a laugh that arrives after the sting, this collection will keep you company. Read it to feel lighter, seen, and slightly better prepared for the next bright idea that seems wise at two in the morning.


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Autorenporträt
Rowan Thornwell writes with the precision of a blade and the hunger of a man who's gone too long without touch. Years spent in the Navy taught him how to stay silent, how to fold longing into the shape of obedience, but it didn't teach him how to forget. His stories are the aftermath: dark, aching, and unapologetically intimate.

At the heart of Rowan's work is the slow unraveling of men, men bound by shame, by duty, by the things they were taught never to want. His prose walks the line between literature and lust, stitching bruised poetry into scenes of surrender, domination, and the dangerous kind of knowing. In his hands, sexual awakening becomes a battleground: sometimes dream, sometimes nightmare, always real.

Rowan writes for those who've loved in silence, craved in shadow, and dared to believe that what breaks you might also set you free.