#Dispensary College

[r0obear]

Stoner much?

[1-ufo]

I do not. Even like being drunk tbh

[stillmonsterz]

Tired Of What We Are

pairing: sunghoon x reader

genre: angst (?), smut

summary: you drive to your old town, where old memories are awakened by the person who never ceased to confuse you, mystify you, and see you for what you are.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, piss is mentioned (not sexually), slapping, dubcon if you squint, name-calling, sunghoon is kind of a loser.

word count: 6.5k

As soon as you passed the sign on the highway welcoming you into your old town, you remembered why you had left in the first place. Small, ramshackle houses resting on lawns choking with weeds, cracked pavement, two grocery stores passing around the same pool of customers. You drove past the elementary school where children teemed on the swing sets, past the Methodist church where you had attended when a member of your family had felt religious conviction.

               Five years had passed since you had been here, and everything seemed even smaller and bereft of beauty. This was a feat in itself, as you had been sick of it when you had lived here. You had driven here to pick up a reference from your first job; a part-time job as a receptionist, a role that had forced you to be human. As you pulled into the parking lot of the small insurance company, you wondered why you had bothered driving all the way here instead of having the reference letter e-mailed to you. You figure that you wanted to remind yourself of how far you had come. 

               After an uncomfortable conversation with your old boss, you’re clutching your reference letter in your hands. You could just drive home, but a lingering thread of nostalgia knots itself in your chest. Instead, you decide to walk around the main street of the town: a thrift shop, a bakery, two grocery stores, two convenience stores, a chiropractor clinic, a veterinarian's office, a burger joint, and a dispensary. “So they finally built something there,” you think. You remember when it was just an empty space, white-washed walls and cement floors. The last time you had seen it was with Sunghoon.

               His name rings loudly in your head, the letters blazing red. You force yourself to walk past the dispensary, instead opting to go to the bakery.  Something sweet will take your mind off of him. Sunghoon, your enemy, the bane of your high school existence, the only person who had ever understood you. 

               You pick out a cupcake, sliding money onto the counter idly as the memory overtakes you. Even a bite of the treat does little to quell the overwhelming feeling of…loss?

               The last time you saw Sunghoon, you were both 18 years old. He was affable, good-looking, and hopelessly obnoxious. You had ended up on the same bus route, and he took pleasure in bothering you, from freshman year all the way to senior year. His taunts went from playground insults to targeted remarks about your body, your looks, your social life (or lack thereof). The one thing he focused on the most was your personality. Your other traits were all clearly jokes, but his dislike for certain aspects of your personality seemed almost personal. He would call you cowardly, overly shy, a people-pleaser.

               He would slide into your seat, invading your personal space. You tried placing your backpack next to you, but he would just place the backpack on his lap and smile at you with a smug grin. Sunghoon would take pictures of you when you weren’t looking, pointing at your nostrils flaring, or your awkward facial expression. You couldn’t remember your first conversation with Sunghoon; it had all blended into a long string of annoyances. 

               At school, you rarely saw him. He wasn’t in any of your classes, opting for the more practical courses while you had gone for college levels. When you did pass by him in the hallway, he was usually slinking around alone or with one of his friends. He was sickly pale and sullen, but when he laid eyes on you, he would brighten and laugh. If you were carrying a book, he would make a snide remark about that. Otherwise, he would either be silent or make fun of your outfit.  Sometimes he would have his arm around a girl, so he would walk past you as if you didn’t exist, but you swore you could feel his eyes burning holes in your back.

               You never argued with him. You thought it was your way of turning the other cheek, of being the bigger person, but it just made you feel like a coward. You would swallow the taunts like a spoonful of acetone, gritting your teeth and smiling. The smiling would only make it worse, sometimes.

               When you were 18 years old, three weeks before graduation, he had coaxed you out of your room during the middle of the night, rapping on your window with his reddened knuckles. It had taken some convincing, some wheedling, and a little name-calling, but you sensed that you could have an adventure. When you crawled out of your window, your backpack strapped to your back, he had helped you get out with a Cheshire grin.

               That was the night he had led you into that space on Main Street, pushing past the doors with the bravado that only a high school drug dealer could muster. He sat on the floor, patting the ground next to him.

               When you were 18 years old, and he gave you your first edible, resting your head on his shoulder as you waited for the THC to kick in. To pass the time, the two of you talked about your student body. Sunghoon disliked almost everyone there, spitting out names with venom. You weren’t fond of them either, but you told him that you didn’t mind them. He told you not to lie to him because he can tell. He said that he’s not fucking stupid. You said that you never thought he was stupid, and he told you to stop lying to him for once. Then you called him fucking stupid, and he laughed. Sunghoon had even started applauding you, but you had shoved him and told him to be quiet.

               That was the night when he had given you one, two, three gentle kisses on the lips, whispering that it didn’t mean anything after you had pointed out he had a girlfriend. You remembered his slow smile after you gave him a soft kiss in return.

               When you were 18 years old, and after the percs that he had taken had kicked in, he had admitted that he wished he had had your brain, so he could escape this town and become something, someone useful. When you had blearily suggested running away together, he had laughed and said that he wasn’t that fucking high.

               And that night, when he had pressed you onto the cement floor, kissing you languidly, like time was all you had, he had whispered that he wanted to give you the rest, let you take everything. You said that you didn’t want to do it there, and not when he had a girlfriend, and he had sat up, nodding and pushing his hair back. And you had asked why he was so mean to you, and he asked why you never fought back. And he said that all you did was take it and take it, so he had to give it. He said that he could tell that there was something in you, something desperate to get out, but you were too weak, so he had to rip it out for you. So you had stumbled to your feet, offended and dazed, and he had offered to walk you home, and you had said no. You walked away from him, and the last time you saw him was at your graduation. You were surprised that he had had the credits to walk.

               ---

               As you walked away from the bakery, you decided that you would drive to your old house, then you would never come back. You clambered into your car and drove to your neighborhood. You thought that things would have changed, but the sameness haunted you. The same people sitting on their porches, the same dogs tied to a post. When you get out of your car, parking it on the curb outside of your old house, and survey the ground, you could swear that the same glass bottles litter the ground.

               Your old house is a one-story affair: worn, blue clapboard siding, a tired white porch. To your delight, whoever moved in after you had installed a windowbox of red begonias. As you survey everything, the wilted lawn, the gravel driveway, the weather-dampened wooden steps leading inside, you hear a voice behind you.

               “If you wanna buy that one, you’re out of luck. I can get you someplace nicer.” The cadence, cockiness, the playfulness, it all burns you. You turn around, and there’s Sunghoon, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, smiling at you with that same shit-eating grin. He’s holding a glass bottle of blue soda.

               You just stare at him, taking in his appearance. A bit of stubble dots his chin, he’s grown taller, and his eyes are wearier. But it’s still him.

               “What, no hi?” He steps towards you, his arms outstretched. “You hate me that much?”

               “Hi,” you mumble, hugging him. He smells the same, and his grasp is as you had imagined.

               You feel his free hand stroking your back. “How have you been?”

               “Good.” You pull away so you can see his face closely. “You?”

               He shrugs. “I’m still here, so there’s your answer.” He steps back, letting his arms fall to his side. Sunghoon opens his soda, tossing the cap behind him. He takes a long swig of it as he stares at you. “What do you do now?”

               You tell him your new profession, and he smirks. “Using that brain for good, are you?”

               “I try,” you say dryly. “Do you still sell?”

               “Nah,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “Gave that shit up after high school. No, I’m a real estate agent now.” When he notices you glancing at his unkempt appearance, he groans. “I have a meeting with a client in like a few hours, I don’t go around wearing a suit all the time.”

               You laugh at him and walk away slightly. As you lean on your car door, crossing your arms, he follows you so that he’s standing directly in front of you.

               “So, are you still a geek ass loser?”

               “Are you still a burnout?”

               Sunghoon scoffs, kicking at your shoes. “Burnout? You sound like a PSA. I’m actually in my bag now.”

               You cover your mouth to muffle your laugh. “In your bag?”

               Sunghoon smiles so widely you can see his molars. “Yeah. Stacking paper, you know. I’m planning to save up money and head out with Shay.”

               “Shay?” You don’t recognize that name from Sunghoon’s revolving door of exes.

               “Yeah.” His voice drops and his eyebrows set into an angry little line. “Yeah, Shay’s my girl. We’ve been together for two years now.”

               “Oh. Congratulations.” For some reason, jealousy nips at you, and you can’t pinpoint why. “What’s she like?”

               Sunghoon shrugs. “She’s nice, you know. Cute and sweet.” He takes another drink of his soda. “You got anyone?”

               The teasing glint in his eyes makes you want to lie, but you know there’s no point. “No.”

               He laughs. “I knew it. I bet the last play you ever got was I kissed you.”

               The fact that he brings it up so casually takes you off guard, but years of arguing with Sunghoon have sharpened your reflexes. “You wish you were my only experience. You’re hardly that important.”

               “Oh?” Sunghoon walks slightly closer to you, his tone mocking. “Goody two-shoes got a little wild in college? What, did a guy finger you in exchange for you writing a report for him?”

               “Fuck off.”

               He grins at you. “Oh, and she’s got a mouth on her now. Who taught you that?”

               You roll your eyes. “Nice to see that you haven’t changed.”

               “Hey,” Sunghoon says defensively, “I have changed. You on the other hand…” He tilts his head, smirking as he analyzes you from top to bottom. “Well, you’ve changed in the ways that matter.”

               “And how’s that?”

               Sunghoon smiles. “You got hotter.” Before you can retort, he starts walking away. “Come on,” he calls behind him, “I have to give you something.”

               “Syphilis? Gonorrhea? Herpes?” you ask, wandering after him as he strides down the sidewalk. You rub your arms as you walk; the familiarity of the spring day has brought you chills.

               “Haha,” Sunghoon says in a deadpan voice. “Humor was never your strong suit, was it?” He stops walking so you can catch up to him, then takes a right.

               “You’re no comedian yourself,” you retort, nudging him with your elbow. He elbows you back, smiling, and then you remember that he’s dating someone. You clear your throat and look away, focusing on the poplar trees lining the sidewalk. “So what did you have to show me?”

               “It’s a surprise,” you hear him say, a teasing lilt in his voice.

               “I don’t like-,”

               “Surprises,” he says, and you turn to look at him. “I know you don’t, but you’ll like this one.”  

----

               Sunghoon was still living with his parents. He explained that the housing economy was horrible, so he opted to stay with them until he saved up enough money.

               His house was nicer than yours, which wasn’t a feat. It was two stories, and the small garden filled with perennials and irises seemed well-maintained.  The walkway was clean, and there was a Honda Civic parked outside.

               “My parents are in Montauk right now,” Sunghoon says, leading you into his home. He fumbles with his keys before successfully opening his newly-painted door.

               “Where’s Shay?”

Sunghoon shrugs. "At work. We don't live together right now, but she might come over soon to visit me before my meeting." When you walk inside, you’re greeted with its simple living room: a worn-out sofa sat against one wall, its once vibrant upholstery now faded and threadbare. Across from it, a scratched coffee table held a scattering of magazines and a remote control with missing buttons. The plasma TV looms on the wall, adjacent to the stairs.

               You kick your shoes off and line them up by the door.

               “Cute,” Sunghoon mumbles. Then he clears his throat. “Come upstairs, to my room.”

               You follow him up the carpeted stairs to his room, which bears the childish scribble “STAY OUT” in black Sharpie. You point at it and snicker.

               “I had to let everyone know I wasn’t fucking around,” he says with a laugh.

               “Did this deter your sister at all?”

               Sunghoon sighs. “No. She would just come in here and take my things. Really grinded my gears.” As you enter his room, taking in its sheer normalcy, he continues talking. “Once, when I was in the living room watching a movie with my parents, she ran down the stairs and started shrieking. She was like, ‘I found something in Sunghoon’s room!’ and she was hollering. I got so scared, because I used to keep my stash in my sock drawer-,”

               You stop ogling the various posters of movie characters that he had pasted around his room and turn to him. “Your sock drawer? Why?”

               Sunghoon shrugs. “Who would check the sock drawer? It’s foolproof. Anyways, I thought for sure that I was done for, when she yells, ‘I found a…bad magazine in there!’”

               “So what was it?” You lean against his tall wooden dresser.

               Sunghoon places his half-empty bottle of soda on his tidy nightstand and starts to rummage around inside its small drawer. “It was a Playboy that one of my friends had found in the woods. I had put it, like, under my bed.”

               “What’d your parents say?”

               Sunghoon finally retrieves the item he was trying to find, turning to face you with his hand clenched around something. “They were like, son, you can’t bring that into the house…we’re going to have to confiscate it…I found it in my dad’s side of the closet a few months later.”

               You laugh, crossing your arms. “You must have felt so slighted.”

               “I did,” Sunghoon says gravely. His face brightens, and he hops onto his twin-sized bed. “C’mere.” You oblige, politely making space. “Now close your eyes…”

               You roll your eyes, but you do what he says.

               “Open your hand…Now close your hand again. Now open it one more time…now close it again.”

               “Sunghoon.”

               “All right, damn. Open your hand, for real.”

               Something cold presses into your hand, with little rough edges. When you open your eyes, it’s a small piece of quartz. You hold it up higher, examining it. “A rock?”

               “Don’t you remember?” Sunghoon laughs. “You got so pissed at me for taking this from you. I think you had found it outside at school, and you got so angry. You did your usual, ‘Whatever, Sunghoon, routine, but you were pissed.”

               “So,” you begin slowly, rolling the quartz in your hands. “You brought me here for a rock?”

               Sunghoon pauses, then nods. “Yeah.” He scoots closer to you, his knee touching yours. “Is a rock so meaningless to you?”

               “It’s…fine. Imbued with memories.”

               “You’re such a shit liar. Just say you’re pissed at me.”

               You shrug. “I’m not pissed…”

               Sunghoon reaches behind you and snatches your phone, springing to his feet. “Are you pissed now?”

               “Oh, come on. Give it back,” you say, standing up as well.

               “Come get me,” he replies, running down the stairs with a laugh. You toss the piece of quartz back onto his bed and you chase after him, fighting a smile from spreading on your face.

               You finally catch up to him in his living room, where he’s tossing your phone from hand to hand. “Give it back, Sunghoon. You’re acting like a child.”

               Sunghoon dangles your phone above your head. “You’re acting like you’re too good for some fun. Come on, try to get it from me.”

               You unsuccessfully hop around, trying to snatch your phone from Sunghoon’s elusive grasp. He snickers at you like you’re a trained dog, and it pisses you off.  Eventually, you get so fed up you try to get him off his feet, tackling him to the carpet. Your phone goes flying out of his hands as he falls, and you reach out to get it. Sunghoon’s hands wrap around your waist, preventing you from leaving.  You turn to look at him as you hover above him, your knees on either side of his body. You and Sunghoon are behind his couch, obstructed from view if you walked in the house.

               Sunghoon looks as if he’s about to say something, but instead he gently presses your head towards him. It’s not a surprise when his lips meet yours, but the tenderness with which he kisses you is shocking. He sighs softly into the kiss.

Sunghoon takes his time, running his hands along your body. His gaze is almost analytical, his touch precise. He strokes your stomach, rubs your breasts, caresses your waist. One of his hands slides down your inner thigh, rubbing circles there with his thumb. His other hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you gingerly, as if he’s scared that you’ll disappear. Once he seems sure that you’ll stay, he parts his reddened lips and slips his tongue into your mouth. You massage his tongue with your own, your eyes flickering shut. Warmth spreads through your stomach, trickling to your fingertips.

               His cold hands slip under your shirt, and his fingers trail along your stomach. Sunghoon strokes your warm flesh, moaning slightly into the kiss. As you feel him groping your breast through your bra, you place your hand on his. “Stop,” you whisper.

               Sunghoon stops fondling you, but his hand still rests on your breast. “Why?” His voice is almost childlike in its disappointment, his dark eyes narrowed.

               “It’s wrong,” you say earnestly, “you have a girlfriend.”

               “Shay won’t know,” he whispers, butting his nose against yours. “This is just a one-time thing, just to finish what we started.”

               “It’s still cheating,” you say, circling your hand around his wrist.

               “So get up.”

               “Huh?”

               Sunghoon scoffs and continues to feel up your chest. “You don’t care. If you had cared, you wouldn’t have followed me into my house. You wouldn’t have come up into my room, you wouldn’t have tackled me to the ground. If you feel so strongly about cheating, then get up and leave.”

               You’re stunned, staring up at him. His response is to kiss your neck, licking at it. Sunghoon gently nips at a spot, and you whimper. “You know, that’s always been your problem,” he mutters. “Open your mouth.”

Still speechless, you timidly open your mouth. Sunghoon shoves two of your fingers inside. “Suck on these,” he orders.

               As you lick around his fingers, tasting his coppery sweat, he plays with your hair with the other hand. “Your problem is that you’re always pretending to be this impossibly good girl. It made me sick, seeing you laughing it up with other people when I know you didn’t like them, pretending to care when you don’t. How could I not press your buttons? Just once, I wanted you to admit it. I wanted you to show anger, sadness, something, anything. Any reaction besides indifference or your little smiles. I was so happy today, seeing you fight back. It only took five years…”

               Sunghoon pulls his fingers out of your mouth and uses the wetness to rub your nipples, looking you dead in the eyes. You whimper again, the coolness serving as a balm for your overheated body. “You remember the first week of freshman year, when our bus driver hit that rabbit?”

               You jerk your head away from him. “What?”

               “The rabbit,” he says insistingly, sliding his wet finger from your chest to your navel. “When it ran in front of the bus and it went flying. Everyone else was crying, or freaked out, or they made a joke out of it even though they were creeped out. But you didn’t react.”

               His gaze is piercing, and you swallow heavily. “Yes, I did. I cried.”

               “Fake fucking tears. I saw you, I saw you. I always see you. You were just sitting there, your face blank.” Sunghoon leans in and kisses your cheeks as if to punctuate his words. “Blank as. A. Fucking. Wall. Then you looked around at everyone else, and you started crying.”

               “So?” His hands have wrapped around your waist again. “What are you trying to say?”

               “That you don’t care,” Sunghoon whispers against your ear. He licks the shell of your ear, his tongue trailing down to the lobe. “And I love it. I always have.” Finally, he kisses your lips again, just as sweetly as before. “Tell me you care about Shay, right now. Tell me you care, and I’ll leave you alone.”

               Emotions swirl in your gut, and you realize that you don’t recognize any of them as guilt. “I don’t care,” you say, eyes widening in realization.

               “There she is,” he whispers before kissing you again, bringing you down so that your chest is flush with his. He runs his tongue on your teeth before breaking the kiss with a smack. Saliva drips out of his mouth, and his breath is heavy. “Why didn’t you let me have you back then?”

               “I was scared that I would have fallen in love with you,” you admit softly, your hands entangled in his dark locks. You kiss the moles adorning his face.

               “Probably a smart decision,” he says with a slight smile. “Is that still a risk now?”

               You shake your head. “No. I doubt this will have much impact on me at all, honestly.”

               “Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, now widely grinning. He flips you so that you’re underneath him, and his chain dangles in your face. You playfully bite it, tugging the chain so that Sunghoon’s face is close to yours. “When did you get so cute?” He kisses you again, the tenderness from before giving way to desire.

               “When you started noticing,” you say, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

               “Nah.” Sunghoon tilts his head and kisses you again, hands once more snaking under your shirt. “I always noticed you.” He starts to pull your shirt off and you help him. When you’re lying there, clad in your bra, Sunghoon pulls himself up, kneeling above you. His dark eyes are almost unreadable.

               “What is it?”

               “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, stroking your arms, your stomach, your chest with a reverence reserved for a marble sculpture. He unzips your jeans, and you shimmy out of them. Sunghoon smirks, then, giving your pink panties a gentle tap. “Nice undies, you cute little shit.”

               Your face reddens. “I wasn’t expecting anything…”

               “I meant it,” Sunghoon says, pulling off his shirt and sweatpants deftly. He tosses them over his couch. Your attention is drawn to his Iron Man boxers and you snort. “Don’t laugh. These were a gift.”

               “Who gifted you this atrocity?” You unhook your bra, putting it carefully next to your shirt.

               As you’re pulling your underwear off, Sunghoon quietly says, “Shay did.”

               Your first reaction should be to blush, to feel ashamed, something that indicates kindness. Instead, you laugh. “Shay has shit taste in more than just men, then.”

               Sunghoon grins, tugging his boxers off and tossing them away. “Is that so?” He grabs your arms and pulls you up so that you’re sitting. You get a glimpse of his cock; the tip is slightly red, but it’s still somewhat soft.

               “I can take care of that,” you whisper, nodding at it. You stretch your jaw out, but Sunghoon touches your chin.

               “Don’t,” he says, “I don’t want you to do that.”

               “You…don’t want me to suck you off?”

               He shakes his head. “No. I can’t make you do that. And don’t bother asking me why, I just can’t.” Sunghoon holds his hand out instead, palm facing up. “Spit.”

               You spit on his hand until he’s satisfied. He works his cock himself, staring straight at you as he does. “Don’t just sit there,” he says, his breath shuddering. So you hold out your hand, and he spits on it.

               You part your legs and rub your clitoris, your other hand fucking your walls. You try to keep your eyes on Sunghoon, but his eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy. “Open your eyes,” you say firmly. “Look at me.”

               When he does open his eyes, they’re filled with lust. His cock has hardened, and he slows his movements. He teases his reddened tip with his thumb as he watches you play with yourself. “God, you’re hot,” he whispers. “Are you ready?”

               You nod, and he grabs your hips, pulling you into his lap. You’re both sitting, his legs on either side of your body. Sunghoon kisses you one last time before teasing the head of his cock into your pussy, but he’s so hard that he has to press his thumb down to get it inside. Once he’s entered you, you hiss, adjusting to the feeling. “Does it hurt?”

               You get the sense that he’d like it if it hurt. “Yeah, a little.”

               “I’ll be gentle for you, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, licking at the junction between your jaw and ear. He presses you onto his cock by your hips, getting you used to his length. When your arms wrap around his muscular, lean body, you notice Sunghoon smile widely. Once he’s fucked himself into you, you slowly shift up and down, but he stops you. “Let me do everything.”

               Sunghoon is gentle, his hips working in tandem with him pressing you onto his cock. His nails dig into your soft flesh, and he kisses your neck warmly. You had envisioned sex with Sunghoon more often that you cared to admit, but as your hands slipped down to touch your tender parts, you were imagining something rougher, something animalistic to match his antagonistic personality. But the way he’s treating you now, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, it feels alien.

               “So gorgeous,” he whispers, giving your ass a squeeze. “So perfect. So tight. You feel like a virgin.”

               “So this is what it’s like,” you murmur, reaching your hand down to lazily play with your clit.

               “Hm?” Sunghoon licks the underside of your jaw, his pace staying moderate. It’s as though he’s trying to leave a lasting imprint of himself inside of you. “This is what what’s like?”

               “Making love instead of fucking,” you reply.

               Sunghoon presses you down so that he’s on top of you. He kisses you sweetly, then plants kisses with exaggerated smacks down your body. He swats the hand playing with your clit away, replacing it with his own tongue. “So sweet.” Sunghoon grips your hips, holding you in place. Moans leave your mouth in stutters as he lavishes your clit with attention, sucking it into his mouth before swirling his tongue around the bead. When your moans become ragged, he pulls his face away, licking his lips theatrically.

               “Don’t stop,” you whine, but he places his lips on yours, the taste of your arousal seeping into your mouth. Sunghoon takes your wrists in one hand and holds them above your head. He uses his other hand to guide his angry cock into your pussy again. As soon as he enters it, he moans and his eyes close. “Don’t close your eyes, Sunghoon. Look at me.” Sunghoon nods, biting his lip.

               He thrusts into you slowly, even slower than last time. His pace is almost excruciatingly gentle. His tongue licks at your nipples, sucking them into his mouth. The entire time, he looks directly into your eyes, and his gaze scares you. It’s so caring, you could almost mistake it for affection. The possibility of what could have been gnaws at your insides.

               “Kiss me,” you say desperately. His lips find yours and he devours you hungrily, spit dribbling out of his mouth.

               “I should have run away with you,” he whispers, releasing your hands from his grasp. You hook one leg around his back and press him down onto you; you interlace your fingers with his, clasping your hands together. Sunghoon whimpers and continues fucking into you, picking up the speed. His hips snap against yours, and his balls slap against your thighs. “I should have just left with you.”

               “We were just kids,” you say, moving your hips up to match his movement.

               “You knew what you wanted,” he says. “You asked me to leave with you.”

               The wild look in his eyes, the desperation tinging his voice, the hope dripping out of his mouth prevent you from telling the truth. The truth that running away with him just seemed like the thing to say, that you would never spend your life with a man like him.

               “It would have been great,” you lie, kissing him so he’ll stop talking. Without warning, his cock twitches inside of you and you feel his hot cum spurting inside of you.

               “Shit,” Sunghoon says frantically. “You didn’t get to cum. Shit, shit. Sorry, I-fuck, sorry.”

               “It’s okay,” you say gently, but he’s already plunging two of his fingers into your pussy, shoving his cum up into your tired cunt.  His other finger rubs at your clit slowly and sensually, and you moan loudly.

               “I couldn’t hold it,” he says, “I wanted to finish with you.”

               “It’s okay.” When you cum, you try to moan performatively, tossing your head back. But your little show doesn’t please Sunghoon, who stares at you coldly.

               “You hated that,” Sunghoon says, resting on his knees.

               “I didn’t,” you say reassuringly. You rise from the ground; your knees hardly buckle.

               “I told you to stop lying to me,” he says, his expression like that of a kicked puppy’s.

               You sigh and crack your neck. “I’m going to use the restroom,” you say gently, leaving before he can protest.

               As you take a piss, you think about it. Why was it so unfulfilling? Was it too emotional? Why did he care if you finished so badly? It wasn’t that he was a bad lay, something just felt off. You clean his cold cum off of your thighs, wash your face, and step out of the restroom. As soon as you step out of the restroom, Sunghoon pins you to the wall. His hand presses your shoulders, and his voice is tremulous when he says, “You keep lying to me. Tell me the truth.”

               “The truth?” you sigh. “Fine. The truth is that I didn’t like that.”

               “You didn’t?” Sunghoon’s voice is cold.

               “Yeah.” You reach one hand out, shoving him slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and you swear you can see his nostrils flare. “It was too soft, too gentle. I hated it.”

               “I thought you would have liked that,” Sunghoon retorts, backing up as you walk towards him.

               “Why? Because I’m such a goody-two-shoes?” You push him again, and his legs hit the bottom step of his carpeted stairs.

               “Yeah,” he says, but there’s a glint in his eyes, and as you advance towards him his grin becomes more of a snarl. “I almost felt bad fucking you because you’re so…nice.”

               With one final push, Sunghoon stumbles backwards, lying naked on his stairs. You hover above him, and you take his cock into your hand. It’s slightly flaccid, which isn’t a problem for you. You tease the head in your folds, coating it with your arousal. You rub it on your inner thighs, introducing his red tip to your clit. Choked whimpers escape Sunghoon’s mouth, and his head is tilted back.

               “Look at me,” you order, and you lightly squeeze his shaft as a warning. Your other hand grabs his hair and forces his head up. His eyes snap open and burn holes into you. You continue rubbing his cock onto your clit, and your fingers slip from his hair to delve into your walls.

               “Fuck,” he ekes out, “stop fucking teasing me.”

               “Or what?” Just to torture him, you ghost his tip over your opening. You don’t expect him to cant his hips up, shoving his cock into you. As you adjust to the change, Sunghoon pulls you on top of him. His hands run all over your body, stroking it, scratching it as he fucks you roughly. You moan loudly, your hands scrambling to find purchase. You dig your nails into his shoulders, not caring that Shay might see the marks you leave behind. That’s for him to explain.

               “There she is,” he says huskily. “I knew there was something in you, but I didn’t know it was a cock-hungry whore.”

               You lightly slap his face, grinding yourself onto his cock. “I’m not a whore.”

               He slaps you back, more of a tap than a hit. “Then why are you taking me like one?”

               You slap him again before mumbling, “Fuck you.” You bring his face towards yours and you kiss, sucking his tongue. He responds by shoving it so far down your throat you choke. Sunghoon pistons his hips up into you, his thighs smacking against yours as he stuffs his cock into you with fervor.

               Sliding off his length, you sit up on him instead. He remains lying down on the steps, squeezing the plush flesh of your ass as you adjust yourself. This time, when he enters you, he doesn’t stop you from riding him. You brace your hands on his strong thighs as you work his cock the way you want. “That’s right,” Sunghoon groans, slapping your ass hard. “Bounce on this cock. Been waiting for this for years.” He spits on his fingers and rubs your clit, causing your whimpers to turn into deep, throaty moans. Instead of his deep, slow strokes, he fucks you quickly, looking for his own pleasure.

               He pushes you off of him and stammers out, “Turn around, now, now.” He helps to spin you around so that your back rests on top of him. In this position, he can grab your tits and play with your clit easily. Sunghoon rests one leg on top of yours as he fucks into you, groaning at the way he’s stretching you out. One of your hands feebly reaches out and holds one of the spindles of the staircase to steady yourself, the other holding his head.

               Sunghoon presses sloppy, wet kisses along your neck, nibbling at the sensitive flesh. “Going to leave you something to remember me by,” he says lowly. “Remember who took this pussy the best.”

               “I’m close,” you stutter out, eyes fixed on his rosy, exhausted face. The heat rising inside of you is leagues different compared to the first time. It sets your nerve endings on fire, it contains all the longing, the confused emotions, the wasted potential.

               “Me too,” Sunghoon says with a low grunt. He slaps your thigh, and you slap his face, harder than last time.  “Kiss me, baby.”

               Your lips meet in a clash of teeth and a tangle of tongues. When you whine into his mouth, he speeds up his abuse of your clit. Your arousal must be soaking into the carpet at this point. Sunghoon’s thrusts grow erratic, frantic, and needy as he chases his own orgasm. His hips shudder, and with a strangled moan of your name, he pumps his cum into you for a second time.

               You cum shortly afterwards, your pussy clenching Sunghoon so tightly he can hardly move his softening cock out of you. You kiss him, savoring the taste of his lips. He wraps his arms around you and holds you so tightly. He kisses your cheeks over and over again, then your forehead, your chin, and finally planting a warm kiss onto your lips. You lie like that for a while on his steps, with his cock resting in you. Your breathing begins to match his, and as you lay on his chest you listen to his heartbeat. It goes from quick to even; you’ll have to leave soon.

               He offers to let you shower, you say no. You want to smell like sex, like him. He calls you a fucking weirdo. You ask him if he ever calls Shay a weirdo, and he says that he treats Shay like a princess. He asks you again if you want to shower.

               Sunghoon watches you gather your clothes. He orders you to leave the bathroom door open so he can watch you clean his cum from between your thighs, splash water on your face, and get dressed. He tells you to do a spin for him, and don’t you dare half-ass it. You spin slowly, and he smiles at you like you’re his.

               He offers to walk you to your car, you say no. You say that it would be horrible if Shay were to come home early from work and see us together, with me smelling like sex. He says that the whole house reeks of sex, and he’s going to have to deep-clean the stairs. You say that he shouldn’t have fucked you on the stairs, and he says that if you don’t get out now he’ll fuck you on the stairs, and on the couch, and on the floor, and in his bedroom, and he’ll die with his cock buried in you.

               You kiss goodbye, and his eyes look haunted. He tells you not to bother texting him, and you say that you weren’t planning on it.

               You stumble to your car, and when you drive away you swear that your town looks different now.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

The Outsiders w Stoner!Reader

Summary: The outsiders with you being a stoner Warnings: descriptions of smoking and getting high Author's Note: got a new cart so its about time i appeal to my weed fiends 

PONYBOY CURTIS

Is kind of shocked because he didn’t know tulsa had a dispensary

Thinks being with you while ur high is the funniest thing ever

Not the type of person to get high so he’ll just watch you

Wants to see if you can do tricks with smoke

JOHNNY CADE

Is like Ponyboy and wants to see if you can do tricks

Doesn’t want to smoke weed but will do edibles with you

He gets really quiet and touchy when high 

So expect just silent cuddling

SODAPOP CURTIS

You were the first person he smoked with and he loves it

Will get high before work with you and have you around the DX

Its just you two goofing off and Steve being a third wheel

For some reason he really likes dancing when hes high, like just break out into song and dance whenever there too much silence

STEVE RANDLE

Probably has gotten high before but doesn’t like to smoke it

He likes edibles tho and he’ll make you special brownies

He puts a lottt of weed in tho so it usually ends with you two asleep in the Curtis brother’s home

He likes to eat A LOT when he’s high. No fridge is safe..

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

Let’s be real he probably does get high

I dont see many of the gang being weed SMOKERS tho, i think they’d all prefer edibles

He def makes the weed brownies with Steve and eats like half the batch

He’s doing cartwheels and backflips and literally runs from anyone within a 6 foot radius

Hes crazy

DARRY CURTIS

We know he used to get high in college

He still had a lot of dealer friends so he gets free shit sometimes when he wants it

Is not opposed to getting high, just doesn’t really do it anymore

He’ll get really talkative and ramble when hes high

Usually though he just falls asleep in your lap.

DALLAS WINSTON

I actually think he’s never really gotten high before

Well he probably did when he was in NY but doesn’t really remember it

When he found out you were a stoner he literally comes begging to get high with you

He’s really sweet when he’s high and he likes to pick you up and spin you around

If you mention him while high he’ll actually slap a hand over your mouth because he VIVIDLY remembers what he did.

[paper-mario-wiki]

I think your bong might be gay…

when i finally moved back to America from Japan after not seeing my family for several years i was too jetlagged to go with my mom to the dispensary (she picked up smoking weed when i went off to college, like all healthy moms do in nature), so i asked her to buy me the gayest looking bong and the gayest sounding strain she could find. i dont remember the name of the strain, but i remember it did sound SUPER gay.

[jessikahathaway]

Cannabis Connoisseur - MYG (M)

Hello all! I had stoner yoongi brain rot this time. And this is the culmination of it all. Pretty much just pwp, but hopefully that’s alright. Please enjoy the filth my loves.

Pairing - Min Yoongi X Reader

Rating - 21+ (This story is 21+ because of the nature of the content in regards to cannabis and the information pertaining to it)

Genre - Pwp, Stoner!AU, College!AU

Words - 6.9K 

Warnings - This fic has a lot of information about cannabis and dispensaries, if any of that makes you uncomfortable then this is not the story for you. Full stop right there. Otherwise - Smoking, weed, insomnia (reader is a sleepy gal). Smut Warnings: Oral sex (F. receiving - Yoongi’s Tongue Technology oop-), intense make out session, protected sex, dirty talk (Yoongi’s mouth my God-). (If I forgot anything else please let me know - thank you).

Special thanks to my sweet bb Ella @oddinary4bts​ for listening to me rant about this Yoongi and reading a bit of the story for me, I appreciate youuuu <3

Summary:  Yoongi is the local “cannabis connoisseur.” Every college student who smokes started with a Mr. Min Yoongi. Not only is he the image of slick and cool, giving even the male sports stars a run for their money in the looks department. Insert, you, a study bug who currently is having insanely bad bouts of insomnia. Lucky for you, Yoongi has something for that.

~~~

“Y/N, jesus fucking christ you look like you got steam rolled,” your family’s neighbor, chef Kim Seokjin, called at you while he watered his small garden.

“Thanks Jinnie I am aware I look like death, I thought we were supposed to represent how we feel on the inside,” you said, waving a disinterested, but mainly tired, hand.

He walked up to his fence as you got to your car. “Did you not sleep again last night? There’s no boys or young ladies or-um, other identifying individuals in your life right? If so, I’m proud of you but also-don’t get your back blown out every night because-”

You sighed deeply and Jin stopped his incessant barrage of usual stupidity to see that you were genuinely exhausted. 

“Hey, you know they have a local dispensary,” he said, nodding towards the city. “It’s called the ‘Magic Shop’, I know the guy who runs it. His name is Min Yoongi, tell him I sent you, he’s got lots of different stuff. He might have something that will help you sleep,” he said, a worried expression on his face. 

“I don’t know Jinnie, I’m so busy I don’t really have time to sleep anyways,” you joked half-heartedly. 

Jin frowned before telling you to wait. You did so and when he returned ten minutes later there was a cute, simple Korean styled lunch sitting in his hands. “Take this, it’ll give you energy!” he said with a smile. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, taking it and giving him a good natured squeeze. “I’ll see about the dispensary on my next day off-thanks again Jinnie!”

--

Apparently your lack of sleep was even noticeable to your professors. 

Mrs. Fleming saw your exhaustion as you walked in for your smaller lecture. She approached you almost instantly. “Miss Y/N,” she called, following you to your seat. 

You went to a smaller university in the city so the teachers were much closer to their students, actually getting to know you and your personalities throughout the semesters and different classes. 

“Yeah, Mrs. Fleming?” you asked, looking at her with sleepy eyes. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?” she asked, petting your head gently. Mrs. Fleming had taught one of your classes practically every semester as one of the main art professors. You were in several different forms of art over the years. Painting, drawing - real life and abstract - as well as pottery, animation, the list goes on.

Art had always been your passion and first love, hence why when most students were out enjoying the summer months, you were still in classes. The arts program worked weird anyways, the more specialized classes went during the summer and the general major programs went during the fall and winter semesters. 

However, ever since the weather had gotten a touch warmer, you’d been struggling to sleep. Probably around three months at this point. Just at the beginning of your summer semester, you were hard pressed to see a solution. 

You’d downed melatonin and even tried the stupid sleep hygiene. Nothing seemed to work. Soothing music, thunderstorm sounds, changing your sheets. Hell, sleeping naked! All of them combined, and you still tossed and turned, only getting a few hours of broken sleep before having to roll out of bed at 6:45 to head to class by 7:30.

So when tears started streaming down your face, Mrs. Fleming was startled to say the least. “I just want to sleep,” you cried softly, head resting on your arms. 

Mrs. Fleming patted your back gently as a parent would their child. Yours were traveling for the summer and had left you to care for the house in their stead. Since you were going to be home for classes anyways. They’d worked hard for years and you knew that a summer together was going to make them extremely happy, so you’d encouraged it. Plus, a summer alone in your home didn’t sound too terrible to you either. 

“Go home, Y/N, try to rest if you can. If you can’t then you might want to schedule something with your doctor if you can,” she suggested. “Or, you know, there is a few dispensaries that have opened up around here. If you’re looking for something a little less intense as sleeping medication. Maybe see if that works a little better,” she said with a kind tone. 

Looks like you needed a trip to the magic shop.

--

A few days later, and with a little research under your belt you went to the magic shop as Jin suggested. You parked your car and noticed the building was decently busy. Nothing horrific but it seemed to be doing well. People of all walks of life were going in and out of the place. 

It was cool to see that even the more affluent individuals of the city were taking advantage of the business as well. 

You strolled up and were surprised to see the level of security and care that was taken into account for the patrons and the workers. You’d never seen anything quite like it before. You were stopped at the counter and asked for your ID to make an account with the establishment so they would know who you were upon return if you chose to do so. 

“Are you looking to pick up an online order or did you want to shop with us?” the lady at the counter asked you.

You wrung your hands and answered honestly. “I’ve never done anything like this before, I’m just... I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping and was hoping to find something a little uh... less serious than medicine?”

The receptionist nodded at you knowingly. “Of course, I’ll see if Yoongi is available to help you out. He’s one of our most experienced tenders,” she said, talking on a walkie talkie as she unlocked the door to the shopping area for you. “Head through those doors, Yoongi is gonna take care of you today,” she smiled. 

You nodded your thanks to her and walked through the door. The smell hit you right off the bat. As someone who had been to parties and such before you were familiar with it. But everything was so clean and sterile it almost felt like a medical office at first. 

Then, a very handsome man approached you. His eyes were dark and he wasn’t wearing the classic uniform as everyone else was. “Hi, you must be Y/N,” he said with a calm expression. He was slightly taller than you, but his features were cool and his hair was longer and dark. He looked like someone out of an old hong kong noir film. His voice was deep and smooth like coffee, you could almost feel a flush trying to sneak onto your features. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a soft voice. 

Yoongi’s eyes flicked over you quickly-so fast you almost didn’t notice. But, you couldn’t help but feel a rush flood through your body.

It had been a while since you’d been this attracted to someone right out the gate. But you swallowed that for now, you didn’t want to start looking more like an idiot.

“Cool, come with me,” he said, leading you over to glass cases that had different candies, gummies and even tinctures that had oils and such inside of them. “It says here that you’re having some trouble sleeping?”

You sighed deeply and nodded. “I’m in summer classes at the community college and I’ve been having insomnia for almost three months,” you said. 

Yoongi hissed in a breath through his teeth. “Damn, that sounds rough. Well, luckily for you-I have plenty of stuff that can help you sleep.” 

With that he led you towards another glass case and pointed at a few different gummies as well as some pieces of chocolate. “So, are you looking for edibles, flower, pre-rolls or concentrate? Have you ever smoked before?” 

You flushed and nodded. “I did but-I didn’t do it a ton and I never really felt anything from it,” you said softly. 

“Well, we have some pretty good strains that come in concentrate pens that could be beneficial. Take a few hits off of that about half an hour before you’re wanting to sleep and it can put you out decently enough. I recommend Northern Lights, Harlequin or Wedding Cake to help put you to sleep.”

Yoongi chuckled when you gave him a confused look. “So, to break it down, there’s three ‘types’ of weed. Sativa, which gives you energy-helps you get stuff done, Hybrids - which are a blend of the two parent kinds of Sativa and the last one Indica - hybrids help you relax after work or studying, give you a good buzz to help you chill and just have a good time. Finally, what I’m recommending for you, is Indica. It’s the kind that really makes you unwind and can help you fall asleep. When I talk about strains-it’s almost like how there’s different kinds of coffee, right? Each one has a little different caffeine content and different flavor. The ‘strains’ I mentioned are like the different flavors of weed in the indica family.”

Well, when he said it like that, it made a bunch more sense.

“Right, so what do they do?” you asked. 

Yoongi was well versed and answered any and all questions you had as you shopped around with him. He didn’t make you feel stupid for asking any questions, the entire experience felt extremely non-judgmental. The more he spoke the more you could see why Jin recommended him.

He was cool and didn’t seem to be bothered by any questions or multiple people approaching him. And when you say multiple-you mean several. 

It seemed he was quite popular with the crowd that came in. College students to elderly alike. Everyone seemed thankful that he was helping you out, all of them ensuring you that you were in good hands as they went to pick up their own orders or do their own shopping. 

At the end of everything, you’d gotten two packs of gummies - a hybrid and indica both and then a pen with a one gram cartridge of Northern Lights that would help you sleep on the bad nights. 

Yoongi took you up to the counter and as he rung you up you thanked him again. 

“Thank you so much, seriously, I can’t wait to sleep for three years,” you chuckled. 

Yoongi gave you a crooked smile. “I’m happy to help,” he said. 

“Oh, by the way, my neighbor said he knows you, he’s actually the one who recommended I come here in the first place,” you stated. 

“Yeah? Who’s your neighbor?” he asked, scanning your items. 

“Kim Seokjin,” you said.

Yoongi’s face soured for a second. “Aish, that guy, tell him he owes me a lunch! He bailed on me last time, ‘cause he had a bad hair day. I was so hungry and then I had to go to work, brat,” he said. But then a gentler smile took over his features.  “He’s a good guy though, tell him I said hi.”

With a soft nod you handed over your money and he rang you up. 

“Please let me know if you don’t like anything or if you have any side effects,” he said. “You can stop in or give us a call. And Jin has my number if you have any questions,” he said with a small smirk. “That’s between you and I though, I also owe Jin a favor.”

“I’ll see you soon then, hopefully I get some sleep,” you said with a happy grin. 

“Let me know how it goes!” he waved kindly before helping the next person in line.

You felt like a schoolgirl, blushing profusely as you walked out of there. You hadn’t expected Yoongi to be so... fucking attractive. You were almost mortified at how lame you sounded asking him all of these questions but he reassured you the entire time. 

“I’d rather you ask questions now than get hurt or something happen to you...”

--

After two hours of struggling to fall asleep, you were officially upset at Min Yoongi. 

You’d taken the edible like he said, you’d even smoked the pen a bit. But all it did was make you giggly and high. You didn’t feel any more tired, which was a big minus to a Mr. Min Yoongi. 

Perhaps it was all snake oil as you feared and you’d spent a decent amount of money on something that really wasn’t going to work. You wanted revenge. How?

You really had no idea. 

The next day you woke up after perhaps five hours of sleep-more than you’d gotten in a while, but not enough for Min Yoongi the Charlatan to be off the hook.

Jin waved you down from his fence and you approached, he held out a cup of coffee with creamer in it and you accepted that as his peace offering for your very grumpy expression. “So what’s wrong this morning? I have a very interesting piece of information that you did go to the dispensary like I suggested.”

“Did Yoongi tell you that?” you asked. 

“Well he texted me asking who my ‘hot neighbor’ was and if you’d asked for his number yet,” he sighed. “Also inviting me to a party for tomorrow night, and was hopeful you’d come along.”

Your tummy, despite your upset at the aforementioned man, fluttered with the idea of Yoongi-first of all-calling you hot and second of all wanting to see you at a party. Jin could see your hesitancy written across your face. But he knew Yoongi would complain endlessly if he couldn’t be a wingman for the ‘missed lunch’ fiasco he was yelling about in his text conversation before you’d even been mentioned. 

“Please? I don’t want to go alone and face his moody ass after not giving him that lunch I owe him, help soften the blow with your pretty face?”

“I fail to see how a missing lunch date is my problem,” you stated plainly. “But, I haven’t gone to a party in a while so-I guess I can tag along. What time should I be ready?”

Jin smiled. 

“Nine o’clock sharp.” 

--

You had your favorite dress on, a burgundy wine color silk slip dress that had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder straps. It hugged your waist and flared out softly. You’d done your hair in curls and had black stockings on with your favorite strappy sandal heels. 

Jin’s mouth dropped when you climbed into his car while holding your dress down. 

“Hi Jinnie,” you smiled, your makeup done to perfection. Jin seemed stunned to say the least.

“Who the fuck are you and where is my tired and sweet Y/N?” He said with a shocked expression. 

“She’s exhausted and decided to stay home and take a nap, while I go out and have some fun away from studying,” you chuckled. Jin didn’t look half bad himself. He had a nice button up done only halfway up with snug jeans hugging his legs and his rings and necklace shone in the street lamp light. “But let’s go, I want to get some dancing in,” you smiled. 

Jin didn’t need to be told twice, driving off towards the party, not before adjusting himself in his seat. You smirked as you looked out the window. 

You came to the decision you wanted to tease the fuck out of Min Yoongi this evening. If it leads to more, wonderful, if not-then perhaps the next time you meet you can fuck his brains out then. 

But honestly, sex was the only thing you hadn’t tried yet to make you pass the fuck out. Maybe you just needed your back blown out before getting a good night's rest. 

If so, the universe needs to say less-because you can think of several less fun ways of trying to fall asleep. Forget sleep hygiene, you think Min Yoongi might have just the thing to help you get some good rest after all.

When you pulled up to the party, Jin let you out first. “I won’t leave without knowing you either have a ride or you’re in the car with me, okay?” he promised as you climbed out. 

“Thanks Jinnie, I appreciate it,” you said, giving him a little wave as you headed into the party. 

You found some of the girls in your classes and chatted a bit before you found the stoners in the corner. Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook and Yoongi all sat on the couch smoking blunts or joints-and fuck they all looked incredible. Namjoon had a girl in his lap who you’d remembered as his girlfriend-Yoona, and then Hoseok had Jungkook next to him with his girlfriend Elsie. Yoongi-conveniently enough- was alone. 

Not for much longer however. 

Just as you watched him light another joint and stick it in his mouth you approached. The sway in your hips matching the music as you stalked towards him with purpose. It seemed every eye in the party was locked on you-and you loved moments like this. You were a study bug, and were very much so in love with the work you were doing at school. But many people misunderstood that when you let loose, there was much more to you than that studious aspect.

Yoongi seemed to be discovering this as you leaned down and took the joint from his mouth and held your hand out for a lighter. You didn’t know who handed it to you, but you assumed it was Hoseok. You lit the joint again as Yoongi’s eyes trailed over your body with a ravenous look in them, but his exterior remained cool as ice. 

With a deep inhale you felt the head rush hit you. “This shit is better than that garbage you sold me, couldn’t put me to sleep worth a damn,” you said before exhaling the smoke into his face. 

You could feel your skirt hiking up your rear end but honestly, you were more focused on Yoongi at this point anyways.

“No?” Yoongi asked. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he cooed, going to reach for another joint when you stuck the lit one back in his mouth. His eyes locked with yours, swirling with interest.

A soft smirk made its way to your face.

“Mmm, I’m sure you are, hopefully you have something else worth my time,” you grabbed a candy from the table and stuck it in your mouth. No doubt an edible but you’d already felt what they could do to you a few times before. If it got bad you knew Yoongi would help you, but this level of confidence was almost more euphoric than the THC.

“Come find me later,” you said with a sultry glance, tossing the lighter on the table and walking away, the same sway in your hips as you found the dance floor. 

You notice Taehyung, a guy from one of your photography lectures last semester, was dancing on the floor so you approached him. It was only a matter of time before Yoongi found you, but you were having fun and wanted to have some more while you waited for the attractive male to make up his mind.

“Hi Tae!” you called kindly, he’d never been super chatty in class but you admired his work ethic. You two had done a few projects together and he was nice enough. 

“Oh wow, Y/N?” he answered, making space for you in his little space with his friends. Jimin and Seulgi were both chatting with him, it appeared. “It’s good to see you,” he said with kind eyes than ran over your body for a moment. You smiled softly at him before nodding at Jimin and Seulgi.

“You look incredible,” Seulgi smiled, giving you a gentle hug. You and Seulgi had shared a few basic courses and she was friends with a few of yours as well. 

“Thank you,” you blushed. “It’s nice to see you too, Tae, I was wondering if I could bother you for a dance?” you asked.

Jimin and Seulgi smirked, looking over as Yoongi seemed to watch the entire display. “Sure you want to test those waters?” Seulgi commented. “Seems like you’ve already made your interest for the night clear.”

“Just because I’m interested doesn’t mean I can’t still have my fun,” you said with a sweet smile. 

Taehyung grinned. “I’m the designated driver tonight, I don’t mind dancing with you for a while,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Come on,” he encouraged, leading you to the floor. 

With a smile you let him pull you in close and sway to the beat. You turned and Taehyung’s hand found your lower stomach and held you there, his head resting in your neck. You sighed at the feeling of another person being so close. Taehyung’s body towered over you and it was nice to be enveloped so completely. The tempo was steady and you two danced against one another, the heat rising in the small space. 

“Didn’t know you liked to party like this, Y/N,” he said, no malice in his words. Just genuine curiosity.

“Just because I don’t doesn’t mean I can’t,” you informed him with a teasing grind against his front that caused him to lose his breath momentarily. 

He grabbed your waist tighter, not enough to be uncomfortable but enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder. “Clearly,” he said with a smile against your skin. “Yoongi huh?”

You smiled and nodded. 

“He’s on his way over here,” he murmured, releasing his hands from your waist.

You barely had time to register his words when a deep voice called from your side.

“Mind if I step in?”

 Taehyung looked up then down to you. You gave him a gentle nod and thanked him for dancing for a while.

“Have a good night, Y/N, see you around,” he said with mischievous eyes before walking off into the crowd. 

Yoongi moved to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as he settled his hands at the small of your back. “You said what I gave you didn’t work?” he asked, the smell of weed stemming from him but also with a spicier undertone to it. “Could you not sleep?”

You smiled as a more upbeat tempo song came on, making your body sway with his in a tempting rhythm. “I did but it wasn’t much better than before,” you answered honestly. 

“I’m sorry, you might have a stronger tolerance that I didn’t account for. Did you try taking more?” 

Was he really going to talk business when all you could think about was kissing him? His lips looked so warm and perfect to bite. Fuck...

“I tried, still didn’t work,” you whispered, his hands trailed down your back. They rested right above your ass. 

Yoongi’s eyes were zeroing in on your lips. Glossy and sweet looking. Your own eyes staring at him with this faux innocence that had his cock hardening in interest. He shouldn’t act like he wasn’t anticipating you showing up when he helped his roommate plan this party at their shared house. Yoongi would gladly let Jin off the hook for their missed lunch if he got to have a night with you. Possibly something…well, that’s a bit too much thinking for right now.

Because your body was grinding against his and there were only so many ways he could react to that. His cock was stiffening in his pants and he didn’t want the entire party to see his raging hard on.

“No? Well... I might have something else upstairs that would help you,” he said.

You actually laughed at that terrible line, but it was the soft smile that he had on his face that completely decimated you. “It better be good then,” you taunted lightly.

“I’ve yet to have any complaints,” he said back.

You texted Jin that Yoongi had found you and he merely responded with the thumbs up and water spray emojis. You rolled your eyes but Yoongi was impatiently dragging you towards the stairs. Yoongi had his arm wrapped around your waist and had you heading towards the room towards the very end of the hallway. 

When he opened the door you quickly found yourself pinned against the wall. Yoongi was kissing your neck and shoulder as he was wrapping himself around you. You gasped and let out a soft moan as he attacked your skin. “Y-Yoongi,” you whined softly.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “I’ve been thinking about you since you showed up at the dispensary-fuck,” he growled.

“Yes, yes!” you said, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please, need you to help me sleep baby.”

You tested the term on your tongue and Yoongi sucked a harsh kiss onto the top of your breast. “Pretty tits,” he growled softly. You mewled and he smiled against your skin. “Don’t whine too much or I’ll fuck you on the floor.”

His aggressive words had you clenching your thighs together as he finally connected your lips. You tangled your fingers in his hair and grabbed at his shoulders desperately. Your hips bucked against his front as you made out against the door of this room. His tongue slid against the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth with a hot breath. His mouth devoured yours, eager tongue licking between your lips in search of your own tongue. You pushed yours forward and soon Yoongi had your neck in his hand as he towered over your form trying to kiss your mind away it seemed.

“Touch me,” you pleaded, breathless voice stunning even you. Your hand leading one of his to your chest. He didn’t have to be encouraged much more as he squeezed your breasts as he captured your lips again in an aggressive kiss. 

“Gonna fuck you so hard, that’ll put you out nice huh? Pretty girl...” he cooed mockingly against your skin. 

“Please~” you whined. “Please baby, need something,” you pouted.

Yoongi growled against your mouth before pulling you from the wall and walking you backwards to the bed. You stumbled onto the mattress and you felt Yoongi cover you as you continued your kiss. Yoongi swirled his tongue inside your mouth and he tasted like weed, but something else as well. A hint of sweet cinnamon.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, hands moving from your waist to your thighs. Without much pretense you nodded, spreading your legs for him. He gave you a crooked grin before his hand moved under your dress to touch your soaking core.

You let out a shaky moan, hips lifting slightly in search of more. “Please, please Yoongi,” you begged.

He tutted and silenced you with a kiss to your lips. “You wait for my cock since you wanted to be a needy little bitch,” he warned, tugging your panties to the side and cupping your heated sex with a dangerously arousing expression.

Although, his aggressive words held no real harm in them. You could tell in the gentle way he stroked your soaking cunt that he really wasn’t going to be this way unless you played into it as well. Yoongi’s brow furrowed attractively as he felt how wet you really were. 

“Damn, you’re fucking wet,” he said, voice dropping low in hunger. “Want me to eat this pussy?”

You could barely speak with the way he was caressing your lower lips with his rough fingers. “Yes... Please,” you said, voice whiny and pitched. 

He seemed eager as well, not waiting to move to the floor and pulling you to the edge so your legs rested over his shoulders. Yoongi licked his lips, a ravenous look crossing his face. “Can I take your panties off?” he asked, looking at you with more serious eyes. 

“Yeah, you can take them off,” you said, voice trembling but wanting. 

He didn’t tease this time, pulling your panties off and pushing up your dress to your waist so he could have easier access. You were panting softly, his longer dark hair was falling in his face and you ran your fingers through it to hold it back from his face. Yoongi smirked softly. “Hang on tight,” he said with a greasy smile. You narrowed your eyes and tugged his head back from your center with a harsh jolt. Yoongi merely laughed, before biting his lip. “Pull it harder,” he groaned. 

You smiled at him before pushing him closer. “Make me...”

The power play dynamic was tantalizing. The electricity and sexual chemistry seemed almost palpable. Yoongi dove into your center, tongue immediately licking into your slick with eagerness. He moaned against your core, hands moving to your thighs to keep your legs open. You whimpered in pleasure, hips jutting against his hot mouth. 

“Fuck... yes, just like that,” you sighed, hand tugging his hair gently as he ate your pussy. 

“Such a hot little cunt,” he groaned, licking your clit with deft precision. You cried in pleasure, biting your lip with soft mewls escaping as he continued to eat you out. His tongue drew pulsing patterns along your folds and paid special attention to your sensitive clit. 

Yoongi slid his thumb up to your clit as he teased your entrance with his tongue. “Yeah baby, so sweet,” he growled, easing his tongue inside. 

You gasped at his hot mouth against your pussy. “Fuck! Fuck!” you cried out. “F-Fingers... put your fingers inside... feel how tight I am for you...”

He didn’t have to be told twice, moving his mouth from your hole to your clit once more as he pushed two fingers inside. He groaned at the feeling of your snug walls sucking his fingers inside. “Fuck... fuck baby feel so good,” he said with a hot kiss to your clit. 

Your thighs trembled as the hot pleasure rose in your stomach. The feeling of his fingers working inside of you caused sharp waves of heat and bliss to curl down your spine. Your toes tingled from the sensations his tongue and fingers pulled from you. If he kept up like this you would cum in no time. You brought one hand to your breast, kneading the flesh and rubbing your nipple to only double the heady desire coursing through your body. 

“Y-Yoongi, holy shit-baby!” you cried, head falling back against the pillow. 

“Yeah baby, cum on my fingers. Cum on my fingers before I pound this pretty pussy,” he said, mouth moving back to your clit as he started to suck. 

A pitched cry came from your lips, grinding against his mouth. “Please, make me cum-oh fuck! Cumming!” You shivered, release coating his mouth and fingers as you whined softly.

“Yes, give it to me, good girl,” he cooed, easing you through the peak of your orgasm. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. Yoongi licked his lips as he moved up your body, kissing in random spots. Sucking and nipping as he sat you up and pulled your dress and bra off. Leaving you completely naked while he was still fully clothed. 

“Yoongi...” you bit your lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and upper shoulders. He pulled you in, kissing you passionately. You tugged on his shirt and slipped it off, leaving him in his undershirt and pants. “Take more off...”

He smirked, pulling his undershirt off and tossing it to the side. You eagerly grabbed at him, making him smile as he kissed your shoulder and neck. “M’ so fuckin hard baby,” he groaned, palming himself through his pants. “Gonna let me inside? Gonna let me fuck that tight little pussy?”

You nodded, eyes big as you looked at him with eagerness. “Please... want it so much,” you whimpered. “Need your cock baby.”

Yoongi nodded, taking his pants and underwear off in one swift movement before grabbing a condom from his wallet. You reached for it, and he handed it over without fuss. You marveled at his length and gave it a few firm tugs before rolling the rubber on. His dick wasn’t massive but your mouth watered at the perfection of it. The tip was nice and pink while the base was tantalizingly thick that would no doubt fill you perfectly. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside of you. Yoongi sighed as you stroked his cock, head tipping back just a touch. “Fuck… put your ass up,” he said, licking his lips as you did as he asked. 

You wiggled your hips in an alluring fashion that had Yoongi growling above you. “Fuck me, fuck me please,” you cried, pouting and making your features docile and sweet. “Wanna be full of your thick cock.”

“Hold yourself open, wanna see that sweet pussy needy for me,” he said, voice husky and deep, rumbling from his chest in an attractive manner. 

Without much pretense you did as he asked. You used your hand to spread your ass cheeks apart and reveal your throbbing and wet core to him even more. “Need something inside Yoongi, baby~”

A dark chuckle escaped him, a harsh swat landing on your ass cheek causing a sweet yelp to fall from your lips. “Pretty pussy wants my cock?”

“Yes! Yes I need it,” you pleaded, turning your head as best as you could to encourage him with your needy eyes. 

Yoongi felt a rush of lust swirl inside of him at your watery eyes and tensing hole on display. “Then you’ll get it sweet thing,” he purred, finally-finally lining his cock up with your dripping core. You felt the tip catch on your hole before finally sinking inside with a firm push. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head for a moment. Your already sensitive pussy swallowing his cock inch after inch with hunger. “Fuck-fuck yes!” You huffed out, voice thin at the sheer bliss of having his thick dick moving inside you. 

“Tight-fuck, snug little cunt right here huh? Needed my cock that bad baby?” he teased. Your walls gripped him so nicely, eagerly sucking him back in each time he gave a tentative thrust. 

“More, please more,” you mewled, gripping the sheets tightly between your fingers. Yoongi groaned out his agreement before starting his pace. You both rocked slowly at first, getting used to being connected to intimately.

The soft clapping of your skin together made your mind whirl with tantalizing pleasure. However, his cock jabbed slightly too deep and you felt the jolt of pain rock you. You grabbed his hand, hissing softly and he took notice, adjusting slightly to ease the tenderness. “There baby, is that better? Feels good?” He reached around to gently rub your clit, almost in apology for the slight pain. “Sorry baby, let me know if it hurts again.”

With his next thrust the pain was all but forgotten. The only thing on your mind was how nice and thick he was, the glide much easier after his attentive thumb rubbing your clit expertly. 

Yoongi felt his lower stomach clenching in heady pleasure from your tight pussy caressing his cock. The tight heat of your cunt causing hot pleasure to run down his spine in pulsing waves. 

“You feel so fucking good baby, so wet and hot… fuck, can I go faster?” He asked, still tentative to make sure you were adjusting well.

“Yeah, give it to me,” you said, your head dropping and hanging in bliss as Yoongi picked up the pace. 

His cock was pushing inside you much quicker, and his thrusts were becoming shorter but harder. You couldn’t stop the staccato moans from slipping past your lips as he kept up his pace, your needy cries and whines music to his ears. 

Yoongi wasn’t a stoic lover either it appeared. He didn’t seem to be extremely vocal, but the way he let out soft growls almost to answer your cries of pleasure made your pussy throb and leak more slick to coat his cock. Yoongi moved forward to grab your hands and pulled your arms back carefully. The only thing keeping you from face planting into the bed now was Yoongi. His cock in your cunt and his hands locked in yours as he started to pound into you.

“Y-Yoongi! Holy shit! Fuck! Please,” you cried, the sound of loud smacks and the wetness of your pussy swallowing his dick falling into white noise as your ears almost started ringing. The pleasure nearly suffocating.

“Good girl, you take it so well,” he praised, his hips rolling into yours. He slowed his thrusts down, grinding his cock inside of you before letting your arms down so you could stretch them.

“I-I wanna be on top,” you said, fighting the whine when he pulled out to accommodate your request. 

“Okay baby,” he said, moving to lay down and you climbed on top of him with ease. His cock was red and throbbing, precum collecting in the tip of the condom.

You got yourself on top of him, carefully grinding against his sensitive cock causing his hips to rut against yours with a heady growl. “Fuck…” you trailed off, holding his cock and rubbing your clit against it a few times to gather more of your wetness before moving his cock back inside of your sticky cunt once more. 

“Y-Yes, fuck yes,” he moaned, hands finding your hips and rolling them towards him. “Snug little cunt…”

“Yoongi!” You whined, grinding down against his cock in a pleasurable roll. “Fuck me, fuck me baby,” you sighed, head lulling back on your shoulders. 

The thickness of his cock filling you almost constantly made your throat dry and heart pound in your chest as you felt yourself get that much closer to your orgasm. His hands trailed down to your ass, gripping the flesh as he started pulling you on his cock, helping guide you over and over to fill the deepest parts of you with a pleasurable burn. 

It almost felt like the air was caught in your throat and each push of his dick into your slick heat jolted the moans out of you. His stroke was so good, filling you perfectly each time. 

The wetness from your pussy was starting to leak onto his lower stomach. Yoongi moaned at the sight of your walls swallowing him, sweet lips pillowing around his cock as you bounced. He reached up and gripped one of your tits, watching as you tipped your head back again, pretty moans and cries falling from your swollen lips. 

Yoongi felt that familiar pooling in his blood, he was gonna cum and soon if you kept it up. You were so pretty whining for him like that, his mind was racing with the urge to finish but wanting to see you under him one more time. 

With a soft yelp you fell back on the bed with Yoongi hovering over top of you. Your breaths were mingling as he leaned down to kiss you again. Your tongues clashing and swirling as he started a slow but firm pace inside of you. He pushed his hips against yours in a tantalizing manner, mind focused on the goal of getting you to cum again. 

“Almost made me cum, holy fuck you feel so good,” he groaned, kissing your jaw and sucking harsh bites into your skin. You whined and wrapped your arms around his neck as he kept his pace inside you firm.

“S’good,” you slurred, mind slowly becoming drunk off the sensations you were experiencing. 

Yoongi smirked at your glazed expression, eyes rolling back softly as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you. “Yeah? Cock filling you nice baby? Look so pretty getting fucked out on my dick like this, pretty tits and pussy just swallowing my cock-fuck,” he growled, fighting off his orgasm for as long as he could. 

You cried out for him again when his thumb met your throbbing little clit. “Y-Yoongi!” You yelped, feeling yourself tightening up in response to his touch. 

“Yeah, just like that huh? Want you to cream this cock baby, cream my dick while you cum like a good little slut,” he snarled, leaning down to bite into your shoulder. 

Wound up to the point of tears you squeaked out in pleasurable pain before that rush of bliss flooded you. Your vision blurred as Yoongi fucked you harshly through your orgasm. It made your mind reel, the heady pleasure that was pulsing in your veins.

“Yeah that’s a good girl, soak my dick,” he purred. “Fuck-gonna make me cum, mm, fuck-fucking shit,” he said, voice husky and dark as he pounded inside you a few more times before filling the condom.

You ran your hands down his back and kissed his jaw as he shivered in his own pleasure, your afterglow singing through your body. 

Yoongi huffed a laugh out before pulling from your heat, a sensitive hiss coming from between his teeth. “Shit, damn near passed out myself,” he teased, looking at your sleepy features before heading to get a cloth for the mess between your thighs.

Did it really just take a solid good fuck to put you out? If so, you weren’t going to be one to complain.

“Should… should I go?” You asked, sitting up with a yawn.

Yoongi came back with cool cloth and gently cleaned you up. “Nah, you can stay tonight, I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

You nodded slowly, eyes fluttering in exhaustion. 

His soft laughter was the last thing you heard before falling sound asleep.

Finally.

[supercap2319]

"Y/N, get in here." Owen said, carrying the two beers into the other room from his two friends. He had been at this shady looking bar looking for answers to who robbed the local drugstore. He ended up at this weed store that got robbed. And Owen just happened to be one of those robbers. After they took him to a diner for pancakes, then to their broken house.

He walked into the room, which wasn't much of a room. "Oh my God, are we about to have sex?"

"What? No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

"Well, you invited me into your bedroom, and usually, when guys do that, they wanna bang your brains out." Y/N said.

“This is not my bedroom at all." Owen protests. "This isn't even considered a house by any fucking standards.”

“Is this a gangbang house? Is that why you guys brought me here? For you and your friends to gangbang me? I mean, is it as much fun as in the porn videos?”

"No, relax. This is just a place where we can lay low for a minute. It's nothing permanent, so it's no big deal you know about it. I'm gonna drop you off at the next checkpoint. Sit down. Please. You're making me really nervous." Owen said.

Y/N sat down next to him. "I bet I can guess, like, everything about you.”

Owen raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?"

“I bet you played sports.”

"Every guy played sports. Baseball.” Owen said.

“Football. I hated it. Except for the jockstrap. Those were great on my dick and balls." Y/N smiled. "Why'd you quit?”

"Well, do you have any idea how hard it is to get into the big leagues?"

“I imagine pretty hard.”

“Yeah. I only did it because my dad wanted me to. And, uh, he's dead now, so... Sorry. Uh. I don't know." Owen looks at the beer in his hands.

“College?" Y/N asked, sitting closer until their knees were knocking together.

“I dropped out of community college, and everything kind of went wrong, so…”

“Yeah, I...I can see that.”

“Oh, none taken. So, what about you?" Owen looked at him with his blue eyes. "What's your story?”

“Oh. Uh, nothing. I mean, I'm not out here robbing pharmacies. Bringing guys in for gangbangs.”

“Dispensaries. And what is it with you and gangbangs? Do you have something you want to tell me?”

“Sorta. Do you have a girlfriend? Are you into guys? Do you like candy? What's your favorite kind of candy?” Y/N asked.

“No. Yes. Yes. Twix.” Owen answers.

“Damn. Not only are you hot as fuck, you're a man of good taste.” Y/N smiled.

[artinvain]

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱 (pt. 1)

sevika x reader modern au (fluff & weed smoking… mdni)

characters: sevika x reader, silco & vander .

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭

when sevika joins one of the biggest financial firms in her district, it’s not a big deal to her. it’s not her passion, but she makes money, work is stupidly easy for her, she lives way over comfortably and if she wants she can choose her own hours. of course — she keeps to a basically military routine, she likes it, it helps her stop thinking. about her dad, where her mom could be, the last person she loved.

she’s waiting to meet up with the same old college buddies she always does. they meet at a dispensary cafe maybe once or twice a week. but sevika goes almost everyday — because it also helps her not think.

when she walks in vander and silco are making a noise in their usual nook, greeting her with hugs and a cig to start. when they were all together like this they became idiots. usually intellectual conversations about philosophy or politics, the latest in news, the latest in their lives and careers. but here it was babble filled laughter and no thoughts at all.

“do you guys want coffee or some of the stuff on the munchies menu?”

your voice is new, vander and silco quieten down in her ears as she looks up at you, the sun shining like a halo bouncing around your locs. she wants to say something, tell you you’re pretty. It’s what she usually does when she sees a girl she likes. flirts like crazy but now sevika can’t say a goddamm thing.

it’s the way you’re looking at her and only her. your lip bitten and a small smile poking through as you notice she’s staring. and you can’t help but look on with some strange affection, her soft dark skin, muscles underneath it flexing. her grey eyes — so unusual, smoky and cool. your manager had told you she was a regular so if you wanted a tip you needed to be nice. to sevika you are lovely — she can’t really describe it but you make her blush.

when you walk away with their orders, the boys are immediately hounding her. “would you have preferred vander and i left the both when you did all that?”

“I - did you - are you fucking blushing?” silco laughs so hard he’s coughing and slapping vander’s arm when she rolls her eyes. “my hearts, my stars, my god — you are! I haven’t seen you look like this in years,” he gasps.

“weed makes you overly dramatic, silco,” she retorts gulps gratefully at a bottle of water while vander continues

“seriously though, you’re looking at her like you have something other than ice in your veins” vander howls at himself

silco lights up his cigarette and leans back, “come now vander, sevika’s just afraid of her feelings, if anything — her blood burns too hot-“

“shut up.” sevika mumbles. it’s not untrue, she’d bounced around from girlfriend to girlfriend, but no one ever stuck and she never seemed to mind. the sex was good — sometimes okay. they never could quite match her though. “it’s not my fault I don’t get along with them,”

“oh yes it’s always something - no banter, not intellectual enough — but I think -“

“yes, what do you think vander?” sevika spits with a snarl

“I think you’re sabotaging yourself.” he says more seriously than intended. she has nothing to say. no remark - she can’t explain away a truth they’d been skirting around whenever it came to sevika’s love life. they’d been badgering her about settling down for once, let herself be known outside of their little trio.

“drop it, vander,” she glares and he only rolls his eyes leaning forward to snatch a lighter in her hand for his joint.

it just has to be then that you walk back to their table, startled by the sudden silence as you hand out their snacks. “is everything okay?” you ask and Sevika’s smile is small but fleeting.

“do you have a strain that can lift the mood?” ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

sevika greets you by name every time she comes in now, over tips you, pulls you into conversation when she knows you should be working but she knows your boss and he’ll let it slide for her.

“so, how’s the wolf of wall street?” you whistle handing sev a clear vile with her joint in it. “you have to stop calling me that,” sevika laughs, loosening the deep blue, tie, embroidered with silver stars around her neck. “but you are! you told me yourself you’re up at 6am every day to make your matcha latte before gym, and you look at your stocks, in your giant loft —“

sevika laughs albeit a little nervously at your teasing “I did not say I had a loft,” and you smile at her coyly scratching her neck. “but am I wrong?” you ask and she ducks her head, her shoulder moving with her laughter.

“ah fuck,” she groans with a smile “leave me alone,” sev says jokingly, and you roll your eyes “okay, if you really want me to.”

but you don’t move, and sevika doesn’t say anything. she’s just looking at you, taking you in — grateful your job doesn’t have a uniform so she can see you in your wide leg pants, dark green flowers springing forth and your tight top — purple, strappy and your breasts, pressed up against them. she looks away from a moment and you chuckle having seen where her eyes ended they’re tour of you.

“you look pretty today,” sev mumbles, taking a sip of water.

“thank you sev, you look pretty put together yourself — meeting with investors ?”

“yeah,” she grunts, “something like that — I don’t know, first time I’ve felt off my game. the company’s just very white and male. I don’t know if I got the deal.” she stretches her neck, “and I hate failing,” she lets slip. furrows her eyebrows at herself because why would she tell you that?

“hey, you’re good at your job, or you wouldn’t be up for a promotion,” she shrugs at your response “plus,” you sit down next to her, “if anything you can depend on the diversity token,” you smirk and nudge her with your elbow, smoke billows out of her mouth as she laughs. coughing slightly before sitting up straight.

“I know it must be annoying, always having to shape yourself up into this heterosexual role,” you sigh, sev offers you some of her joint and you take it without question, knowing it was just you and andy your co-worker today,

“and your jobs are always with all these white, men determining whether you look good enough or if you’re well spoken enough, it’s bullshit,” you sigh and sevika nods

“it’s like I’m never doing well enough I’m tired of it,” she responds.

“you should be tired of it, but you are,” you say firmly, “good enough — don’t let them define you sev, your work shows that you’re good for it.”

“thanks,” she smiles, she’d heard it before but it felt different coming from you, because you understand her. you’re not just trying to make her feel better. it is bullshit and you let her know that it’s okay to feel that way.

“vander and silco don’t really understand it. i mean don’t get me wrong they try. but they’ll never really know.” sevika sighs and takes the j back from you when you offer it with a smile.

“I get that,” you nod and tie your locs up out of your face. “hey, I have to go check on that table,” you spot a couple with their coffee cups empty. “but I’ll be back,”

she turns the words over in her head. she didn’t ask you to, but you were coming back to her — like you always did. the first to check in on her when she came in and rarely did you leave her without at least some conversation, even when the cafe was busy. you grab sev’s hand and give it a tight squeeze and it jolts sevika’s body feeling your soft hand in hers, so warm and you trace a circle on the back of her hand that she can feel long after you’ve pulled away.

sevika should be at home by now, instead she’s following you around, watching you clean counter tops and pack away snacks for the night shift to open later.

“so, I told andy like I can’t take her every table just because she doesn’t feel like serving — do I have something on my face?” you stop rubbing at a sticky spot on the table where someone spilled something, staring at her quizzically as she looks down at you.

“no,” she smiles and then her eyes dart nervously around the room, “sorry, I was just… looking at you.” you don’t say anything for a moment, “I think you’re really pretty,” she says nervously. she hadn’t complimented someone so gently in a while. it’d all been heated praises while her hands were guided to someone’s neck. so sev chuckles uncomfortably and turns her head to stare at a painting when you say forger.

“I could have painted that. like better probably,” she says and when she looks back at you, your standing so close to her she can feel your breath on her neck.

“I think you’re beautiful,” you say, and sevika chokes on her words. she’d always been “sexy” or “hot” or “super attractive” but no one had called her beautiful. cupping her cheek so softly and with no intent.

“I just was never sure how you felt, so I didn’t say anything,” you said, and sevika holds her hand over yours, looking down at you and smiling sheepishly as you lean up and kiss the side of her mouth. “I like you,” you grin at her blush and the way she tumbles over her words.

“of course yeah, i um - do you want to come back to my place?” she rushes out and a pit forms in her stomach when you blink slowly and swallow.

“I’m sorry, did I just ruin everything?” sevika asks bluntly and you shake your head, she holds your hand to her cheek, hoping you don’t pull away.

“no it’s fine. I want to, I do. but, I’ve done that a lot recently, I mean finishing my masters it was really bad. I kind of want something real,” you say shyly, trying and failing to pull away from sevika,

“we can take it slow,” what the fuck is she thinking. she’s never taken it slow. her longest relationship was three months and she fucked it up because she always priorities work. but, you’re beautiful and kind and smart and funny and she doesn’t know if she can just let you go. at least not that easily.

“let me take you home,” sevika offers as you lock up, the sun’s not down yet but she doesn’t want you to go. you agree and whistle when you jump into her jeep.

“wolf of Wall Street— this is impressive,” sevika rolls her eyes with a smile and turns her car on.

“just fucking give me the directions,” she answers and you laugh, getting your maps out “it’s not far from here,” you say.

“if you’re not busy, maybe you can come inside, talk and have some tea or — I don’t know, maybe not-“

“no yes. I would love to,” she replies eagerly, making her way down to your place, following the maps stoic directions.

“so you said you could paint something better than what’s in the shop?” you turn to her and she blushes — she shouldn’t have said that.

“I used to paint, and sketch,” she admits, used to as if she didn’t pick up her charcoal for the first time in months to sketch every detail of your soft face.

you nod, looking around her clean car, it didn’t look like one of an artist “you should show me sometime,” you mumble and flick the boulder of the sisyphus bobble head stuck to her dash. “this is a really fucking specific bobble head,”

sevika laughs and agrees, “I got it in greece at some really overpriced tourist shop. I don’t know, vander and silco got something too, all philosophy shit because we’re—“

“really pretentious,” you laugh and she nods along “yeah yeah. we all met in our first year greek mythology course and then again in philosophy and we kind of just stuck together. and I never buy myself anything so I figured.”

“why this though? why the reminder of eternal punishment on your dashboard, every day?”

“other than the fact that it reminds me of my oldest friends?”

it’s not like you didn’t understand. you have an embroidered quilt of plath’s fig tree poem hanging in your kitchen.

“yeah, other than that,” you dig, you know there’s something more there.

“I don’t know, I felt like I was sisyphus for a long time,” she admits. something about your aura was so damn relaxing, like she could say anything around you and you wouldn’t care. “I had accepted that I had to suffer.” she drums her thumbs on the steering wheel, “that being who I am was some cosmic punishment, but then. I don’t know I figured if my boulder was who I am, I’d have to keep pushing it, even if people failed to see how light it is to me,”

you nod, finally satisfied with her answer and look over at her. she doesn’t feel like she has anything more to say. and for once she isn’t scrambling for charmed words or flirtation, she just lets herself listen to you breathe.

“paradoxical but that’s what it is to be brown and queer in this world huh,” you say and sevika nods falling into a comfortable silence until you reach your flat.

a small victorian brick building, that’s much bigger when you’re inside. stairs leading up to what you explain are two other apartments. the tenants quiet but very nice and hardly home. you walk her down the passage to your apartment door.

she’s greeted by warmth and the smell of fading incense. you turn on orange lamps and a sunset one in the living room,

“you can put your jacket on the stand there,” you say, looking at her from over the kitchen island. “and take your shoes off, please,”

sevika complies and feels a tight knot it her stomach. nerves. why is she nervous when she knows you two won’t be doing anything. the way you’d seen through her in the car, you wanted to know her, not just her body and that scared the shit out of her. should she just leave? she’s ready to put her shoes back on when you walk past her into the living room with a tray, a teapot and two cups and some honey. it’s so sweet she decides against herself to sit down on your couch beside you.

she looks around while you pour her tea, the couch is plush, you’re venitian carpeting soft under her socks. you have a feature wall painted dark green and covered in abstract paintings and one family portrait.

“that you?” sevika asks, making out our plump cheeks and toothy grin, as you lean over who she assumes in your father. she thanks you for the tea and takes a sip of the warmth,

“yeah,” you smile, “my brother is late, but my sister lives like two streets down,”

“I’m so sorry,” she offers and gently lays a hand on your shoulder. you take it and kiss the back of her hand.

“shit, sorry,” you apologise and let go off her, but she wants you to do it again, can feel the outline of your lips tingling on her hand. “s’okay,” she nods and keeps her hand on your shoulder.

“viktor was my adopted brother, he was really sick.” you stop there and turn to her with a watery smile. “I loved him a lot,”

she can tell. nods solemnly and lets you have a moment, and then your laughing a little embarrassed and wiping your eyes.

“It was a long time ago, sorry,”

“don’t be,” sev says, “I wanna know you,” she smiles and you smirk back at her, your cheeky attitude back in play, “then ask me a question,” you say, she doesn’t know where to start because she has a million.

“how’d you know you were… I don’t know sapphic?” she asks tentatively. “well, I’ve known I was a lesbian since I was like twelve. there was this girl I alway hung out with —“ you’re smiling fondly and sevika lays over your words.

“yeah?” sevika answers getting ready for your story.

she leaves way too late, all you two did was talk and laugh and she hadn’t checked her stocks or taken any calls and she can’t remember the last time she wasn’t always working, even partially, even in her free time. when she gets home she’s on her laptop until midnight, taking an international meeting and all the while, all she can think about is sitting and watching the rest of the stupid magician show she’d started with you before she saw the time.

when she clambers into bed, for the first time she notices how cool the spot beside her is. she bundles herself up in pillows and falls asleep with you on her mind.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

”I wanna take you on a date,” sevika smiles leaning on the counter where you’ve just finish letting a group of friends pay.

“you do?” you ask, “you doing it because you think I’ll give you discounts ?”

“I know you’ll give me discounts,” she laughs “I got something for you,” she pulls out a novel from her work satchel. “I know you wanted a physical to have, but you said you were too distracted to get one so”

the picture of dorian gray. inside the first page were names of people who had had the book before you, dating back to ‘97. you’d wanted a hard cover since you’d read it a year ago. but she’d gone above and beyond getting you a thrifted version, you liked the idea of a hand me down of something so many others like you had enjoyed and now you had one and she knew that. the thought made your heart thump.

“where did you get this?” you ask, touching over the names of all the people who’d signed it,

“just looked at like four different second hand book stores,” she shrugs and looks on fondly as you excitedly flip through the annotated pages.

“thank you!” you lean over the counter and kiss her cheek.

“and not that that was a bribe or anything but-“

“I obviously want to go on a date with you vika,” she blushes at the nickname, her heart beating a little faster. “yeah?” “yeah,” you nod and jump at andy’s snide remark for you to start your shift.

“I’ll pick you up after work,” she taps on the counter and smiles widely, the bell on the cafe door ringing loudly in her ears as she exits. for the first time in a long time, she’s more than just living. the air smells fresh, colours and bright and her heart is pumping hard, hot blood coursing to her cheeks as she thinks of you. tonight, tonight, tonight.

okay next chapter is the date and maybe a sexy little smut scene hehehe or angst. who knows? not even me. 🏷️ @iamaboringrattat @archangeldyke-all @sevsbaby @sapphicsgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr @sexysapphicshopowner

[morganbritton132]

Idk if you’ve mentioned it before but what is everyone in the Party’s jobs?? We already know Erica is a kickass politician and Lucas is the family embarrassment doctor but what does everyone else do besides bug Steve lol?

Also is Dustin still with Susie or did that ship sail away in the EMTTS?? <333

So, fun fact about me: I am not a big fan of future AUs. I don’t particularly like reading them and I’ve never written one prior to the Tiktok Saga. I think the problem I have with them is that it’s really hard to determine where a character should be thirty-odd years down the road. How or why a one-off post about Eddie being bad with technology turned into all this, I do not know.

I don’t have everybody’s job picked out because I don’t really think about it until it’s relevant to the story, but luckily, I do spend way too much time thinking about this AU so I have few that haven’t been mentioned.

The ones that have been mentioned: Steve is a teacher, Eddie’s a musician, Nancy’s a journalist, Jonathan’s a photographer, Lucas is a doctor, and Erica is a senator.

I think Argyle owns a very successful marijuana dispensary in California where him and Jonathan live and it gives him the freedom to travel with Jonathan when he goes out of town for business. Argyle just has the vibe that should not be working a nine-to-five. Also, I think that Argyle as an old man stoner with long completely gray hair is just so cool.

Robin is also a teacher, but she teaches at a university in the linguistics department. She spoke four languages when she joined the party, she now speaks nine. She’s written a book. She has a kickass rating on Rate My Professor. She’s likely the front runner to take over the department once the current dean retires next year.

I really like the idea of Max becoming a physical therapist. She had a long road to recovery after Venca and spent over a year in physical therapy just learning how to walk again. She knows what it’s like. She knows when and how hard to push her patients, and she’s good at the job. This also makes Max a doctor so Erica includes Max when she says that Lucas is the worst Sinclair.

I’m less defined on what kind of careers that Will, Mike, and El have. I just haven’t found a job that I’m like, yes, that makes perfect sense for that character. I do think that Will has a career where he can be creative and that he’s successful, I just haven’t narrowed it down to what exactly he does.

Mike and El, on the other hand, I have no idea. I mentioned before that Mike had a band that opened up for Eddie on CC’s first national tour and I imagine that he did one summer or during his gap year before college (if he went to college). El, I like to think, travels a lot and has got to see the world and be free of the responsibility of saving the world. But those two, I think, are tough to pin down to a specific career.

Now, for Dustin.

Dustin has had a very successful career as a researcher and his career has taken him all over the world. Now what exactly does he research? That’s up to you. This man is a scientist and that’s all Steve and Eddie can tell you about Dustin’s job because it’s just over of their heads. He loves it and that’s all they need to know.

Dustin and Suzie are currently not together. They have dated off and on since they’ve known each other and have always split on good terms. It has just always been the wrong time for them because when they’re together, they’re great. They hit it off and decide to start dating again, and then they just get busy. They’re both top of their field and work crazy long hours all over the world, and the cost of that is their relationship.

I think they both kinda know that one day, they’ll meet up at the right time, but for now, they’re good friends and they date other people. Steve thinks that they’re soulmates and he’ll randomly give Dustin an update that Suzie is single again. Dustin is always like, “How do you know that?”

“We’re friends on Facebook.”

[cowgirlcherrie]

hiii :) i was wondering if you could do headcanons of modern! ellie

Hiii lovie of course!!!! ♡♡

a/n: this is kinda drabble-ish but would love to do more of these, so keep requesting them LOL! This is a little sporadic but I love it, so I hope you enjoy <3

warnings(?): not really much mostly fluff sfw, with slight suggestive undertones but really if you squiiint

modern! Ellie headcanons

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

♡ Ellie would definitely be in college, part of her doesn't know fully why she applied but she was giving it a shot

♡ totally an undecided major, science? teaching? psychology? She really doesn't know at first but settled on psychology so she could get her degree

♡ makes you wear a necklace with her initial on it (totally possessive)

♡ magically always had weed, which was also confusing at first but she just had that good of connections around town with local plugs and dispensaries.

♡ always has a blunt tucked behind one ear

♡ makes you trim her hair because she doesn’t trust anyone else touching anything on her body.

♡ always loosing her lighter so you bedazzled it and she literally never lost it after that, she would rather die before losing that lighter now

♡ if you have stuffed animals, she tries to remember their names but gets them wrong every time

♡ A few months into dating when labels were now on the relationship, would gift you little things and act like it wasn't her.

♡ once gifted you pre-rolled blunts and you were definitely confused but before you could give them back would kiss your cheeks before saying "No take backs"

♡ keys jingle when she walks, and it's loud asf too!!

♡ whenever you can't find her she's definitely in the gym

♡ low-key would get addicted to going in her free-time ( gym rat ellie ?????)

♡ definitely rubs your back while you are studying or working from home, keeps one arm rubbing circles in your lower back and another on her phone, she enjoyed the comfort of being close even though you kept shushing her. (she’s definitely playing subway surfers or scrolling on tiktok)

strong believer that she would accidentally get tiktok famous, but everything she would post after that one thirst trap would be just videos of you

♡ loves dressing you up, quite literally sits at the edge of the bed while you try on different clothes leaning back as you come out of the bathroom,

"Twirl for me doll,"

" I love that color, you should wear that more often"

♡ one day when you see her playing guitar and beg on her lap that you want to learn, Ellie will literally take you to the guitar center the next day to get you your very own

♡ spoils the crap out of you!!!!!

♡ lovesss teasing you and resting her hands on your upper thigh especially when you wear something revealing like skirts or shorts, she tucks her hand way too close up.

♡ touchy touchy touchy! always has to be touching you somehow

♡ leaving kisses on your neck 24/7 because of the way you jump when her lips touch your skin

♡ skincare nights go so crazy, took a lot of convincing, but will be right next to you with a facemask on while you watch a good show

♡ definitely dominant 80% of the time

♡ pet name Warriorrrr ( baby this...doll that) she literally doesn't stop

♡ if you ever go to a party together definitely shares alcohol with you so you don't drink too much

♡ if you are drunk after will take your make-up off and do your night time routine for you

♡ wakes up late as fuck!!! totally wakes up at 2pm like its nothing

♡ definitely mean to everyone else but you.

I'm talking about glaring at people 24/7, crazy attitudes, and people basically asking for permission before they speak.

♡ whenever she catches you doing your natural hair, begs to help which results in her wanting to do it every washday

♡ at first, Ellie didn't understand the hype behind matching fits but does it just for you

♡ overall Ellie is just a simp for you like literally only cares about you, weed, and getting money

[morganski-19]

My Friend's AU fic

Just some quick info about the au and how it works.

Takes place in New York, like the friends show does. There is also a coffee shop/bar that they all hang out in.

Nancy is a journalist and lives in her grandmother's rent controlled apartment. She knew Eddie in highschool, met the rest while in college. She and Steve dated freshman year of college but then broke up, and then she dated Jonathan for a little bit as well. But it's all cool with no weird love triangles (because I hate those) She is also bisexual.

Eddie is a freelance artist and a tattoo artist. He moved to New York to live with his now ex, and ended up reconnecting with Nancy and now they live together. He has been out as gay since highschool.

Steve lives across the hall from Nancy with Robin. He is a first grade teacher at the local school. He is also notorious for his many hookups (because he's the Joey character) and bisexual.

Robin met Steve in college and has been joined at the hip since. She is a translator at a law firm and takes up some side work tutoring people in the languages she speaks. She has also been out as a lesbian since highschool.

Jonathan and Argyle were randomized roommates in college, and just never stopped being roommates. They live in the building across the street, but end up spending most of their time in Nancy's apartment. He is a freelance photographer that has a pretty decent following and does a lot of events.

Argyle works at a weed dispensary and part time at the local pizza place. He doesn't label his sexuality because he doesn't really like labels.

The fic itself it told like a sitcom would be shown, so not a lot of inner thoughts. Just pure schinanegans. There will also be a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added/taken off as always.

You can also throw a prompt that you think would be funny in my asks and if it inspires me, I'll write it.

There is no order to this, and all of the parts can be found under the following hastag, but otherwise will not be linked to anything. #morgan's friends au

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold (Joel Miller x dispensary! reader) 🍃 🔥 💨

Chapter 1 : Moonberry

Chapter 2 here || Chapter 3 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU no outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. Word count: 6.6K A/N: This is a shameless indulgence because I wanna see PEEPAW get HIGH. He needs it, his BACK needs it. He's not gonna like it at first though 🌚. A thank you to my literal heart and soul @iamasaddie who listened for hours on end to my rambles and creative word vomit about this idea, I love you forever. I will add the tag list later tonight. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

“God fucking damn it.”

Joel’s resounding growl reverberates throughout the empty house as he slams another kitchen drawer closed with a loud thud. He impatiently rifles through the drawers one by one in a failed attempt to find any pain killers, any fucking pills he can get his hands on, really. His hands flit through stale takeout menus, spare remote batteries, streamers, matches and other miscellaneous odds and ends with no avail. 

He even went so far as to look in Sarah’s bathroom cabinet above the sink and her dresser drawers too. The pieces of furniture in her room somberly coated with a thin layer of dust, marking her absence ever since she left for college a couple months ago. He didn’t have any success. No Advil, no Tylenol, not even any RUB A535 or joint pain creams to be found in any corners of the seemingly empty Miller house. 

Damn. 

She must have taken anything she had with her off to college when she moved into her dorm, Joel surmised. The dresser’s groan as he shuts it close rivals Joel’s, that rips  from the back of his throat as he feels another sharp, needling pinch in his lower back. It eventually subsides into a dull ache but he knows he doesn’t need to move in any abrupt or particular way to trigger the same said infuriating pain, sending shockwaves down his back, through his spine. He grits his teeth and rests both of his palms on the textured surface of the wood, trying to ground himself as his back rounds and he hunches over. Looking up into the mirror attached to the dresser, he grimaces. Recoiling from the image of an old man with hollowed circles under his eyes, grey hairs littering his head and his permanent scowl. 

Joel is old. He knows that much. The years on him are telling.  Aside from his physical looks, his knees are shot and there isn’t a day where he has to physically brace himself to bend down, swing his legs out of bed, or hoist anything above his head when he’s out on jobs. Even his ability to pick up jobs and swiftly finish them as if he was a sprightly 35 year old with a slightly athletic build has slowed down tremendously. It takes him twice as long to seemingly do anything nowadays, regardless of whether it’s physically laborious. 

Hell, he even struggled when it came to moving Sarah into her college dorm room. Even though she remained in state and her campus wasn’t more than a 2 hour drive away, and multiple trips could be made, Joel steeled himself to ensure he would be there to do the heavy lifting, and only have to do it once. Enlisting Tommy’s help would have made it easier as well but of course his younger brother was too gregarious for his own good. Aside from showing up 40 minutes late, with a 6 pack of Lone Star in his hand and forgetting the tools he was supposed to bring, Tommy was more easily preoccupied setting up the mini fridge he bought for Sarah, Which of course Joel scolded him for, and joking around with other freshmen in the dorm. 

The harsh reality is that the harder he tries to forget about it and ignore his persisting aches and pains, the more his body and mind humble him without fail that he is old. Broken. Might as well be, seeing as he’s about losing his damn mind without having any painkillers to pop and wash down with a glass of whiskey. 

He recalls the fruitless conversation he had with the doctor two weeks earlier which had placed Joel in his current predicament. 

“Getting older is a facet of life Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you about that. And you’re an otherwise healthy guy, aside from your cholesterol creeping up a bit high and the occasional spike in your blood sugar.” His doctor told him frankly as he flipped through Joel’s medical history.

“Unfortunately your body is just responding to the stresses of doing physically intensive work, as it does with any other person when they age.”

Joel opens his mouth, already ready to refute the doctor's next words, when the doctor holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you’ve been doing the same job for years. Nothing about being a contractor has changed. The fact of the matter is the job remains the same but you have changed Joel. Your body just can’t keep up as quickly, nor can it recover as quickly anymore. All that heavy lifting, straining the same muscles over and over in fixed positions, it’s just catching up with you now.”

Joel crosses his arms over his chest and grinds his jaw. “I’ve been managing just fine,” he grunts, not trying to hide his annoyance through the lie. 

He had been trying to take it slower in the past couple months. The key word being trying. 

Sending Sarah off to college was no easy feat financially, especially as a single parent, but Joel wanted to give his daughter the best chance at a college education, knowing how bright and determined she was. He worked hard to save for her tuition, the first two years that is, but he wouldn’t admit he was running himself into the ground trying to pick up more jobs than he could handle on his own, in order to save up for the rest. Forget the tuition, there was also the cost of residence for living on campus, her textbooks, a laptop, student association fees and a whole bunch of other crap he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Back in my day you just went to your lectures in the same building, wrote in the same notebook, and used the computers on campus,” he grumbled as he squinted at the tuition balance outlined in the letter sent by her college. There were more zeros than necessary behind said balance that already had Joel’s mind spiraling into a panic.

“I thought you only did like, less than a year of college before you dropped out to start working in the trades Dad,” Sarah quirked her brow at him smugly. 

“It was nine months,” he corrected her, “long enough for me to realize that it wasn’t for me.”

“Not long enough for you to learn how to properly use a computer though,” she smirks as she watches Joel start scribbling numbers down onto a piece of paper, reverting to mental math instead of using a calculator. 

“It was a long time ago smart ass,” he chides her despite the warmth in his eyes. “Besides, you were still so young. I was spending more time outside of the home, working and trying to juggle school, away from you and your mother. It wasn’t ideal. The trades allowed me to be flexible with my hours, while being able to spend more time with you”

His doctor gave him a sympathetic look and sighed. “If that were the case, I don’t think you would be here and we would be having this conversation right now would we?”

He sits down in his chair and wheels over to the computer sitting on the desk, clicking this and clicking that as he filters through the previous medications that had been prescribed to Joel, before he turns to face him.

“Now in any other instance, I would prescribe you slightly stronger painkillers than what you’ve received in the past,” Joel subconsciously starts nodding along, ready for the spiel about his prescription dosages and what not. “But, because your cholesterol is a little high right now, I can’t do that.”

The crease in between Joel’s eyebrows deepen as he tries to anticipate what the doctor tells him next. 

“The side effects from an over the counter painkiller could spike your cholesterol even higher, which is what we do not want,” the doctor continues, unaware of Joel’s steadily boiling frustration. “Which is why I wanted to suggest an alternate method for pain management, something more natural.”

For fucks sake. 

He thought this would be a simple appointment. Show up, get a new prescription for whatever magic pills can help this pain in his back to dissipate, and go home. Not look into ‘alternative methods’ that undoubtedly wouldn’t work.

Joel’s gaze narrows and he huffs, leaning back in his seat. “Natural? Like what, seeing one of those hokey practitioners that read your energies and use natural herb remedies and all that crap?”

“Not quite that per say but it is natural medicine. Medical marijuana to be exact.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry as his jaw hangs open. Weed? Nope. Not the solution he was looking for. 

Maybe what he should be on the market for is a new doctor at this point. 

“Uh listen, I appreciate the suggestion doc, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me at this point. I don’t do that kinda stuff,” he waves his hand dismissively. “If it gets to that point I’ll crack open a beer.” Joel leans forward in his seat and he starts to get up.

“Just a second, hold on. At least let me write you a prescription for it today and you can choose whether or not you want to get it filled at a dispensary.”

“I don’t think-” Joel continues to protest but the doctor cuts him off.

“It’s medicinal marijuana Joel,” the doctor says plainly, as if that’s supposed to calm his nerves. “It has opiate-like properties, which means it’s similar to a pain killer, just without all the usual side effects that come with over the counter medicine. Lots of individuals, older and younger,” the doctor pointedly emphasizes, “use it to help with aches, pain, anxiety, even mental health issues. Not just the physical.”

Joel continues to eye the doctor warily, his spine now stiff as he sits up in the chair. Even now, he can feel his body protesting his upright position, the inkling of that pinched phantom pain coming back slightly. 

“Does it get you high?” he asks the older man. 

Aside from the stories he’s heard, he’s had his fair share of buddies who used to toke up back in the day. Hell, they didn’t even know what was in it back then, they just smoked as a distraction, something fun to do, to take the edge off after a long day's work. Joel tried it once and didn’t like it at all. The hazy, fuzzy feeling not mixing well with his frayed nerves, glassy eyed and out of touch with his body. No, he would much rather crack open a beer or pour himself a whiskey neat to kick back and relax when he was stressed.

“Not necessarily, some strains, or some kinds of weed have a higher content of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component that makes you feel high or ‘out of it,”’ the doctor explains with finger quotes. “Some medicinal marijuana are low in THC but high in CBD, the relaxing component of marijuana. CBD acts as a relaxer, and it can ease physical pain. So depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can opt for the kinds that have a high CBD but low THC content, which will help with any pain issues, without causing you to experience the high.”

Joel’s mind whirls around the acronyms. THC, CBD, ABC. Christ. Does it have to be this fucking complicated? 

He knows his doctor is only trying to help at this point, basically just doing his job, but this is way beyond Joel’s comfort zone. He inhales deeply and leans back against the chair as he resigns himself to this conclusion. Seeing as there are no other options.

Picking up on Joel’s internal freak out, the doctor explains. “It’s a lot of information to process, I know. But like I said, take the prescription and think about it. There’s a new dispensary in town here where you can go and take the prescription, have them fill it, chat more about the options and see how you feel. If you’re still adamant about the painkillers then come see me in a couple weeks and we can discuss it more. I want you to try a few things to lower your cholesterol in the meantime.” 

His doctor writes the prescription on the office letterhead, and hands it to Joel along with a card for the dispensary in town.

Fast forward to the present, Joel turns around from the dresser and leans back against it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the prescription slip, the paper now visibly creased due to the number of times he had folded and unfolded it in contemplation. Of course it was near impossible to make out the doctor's chicken scratch handwriting.

Must be a requirement of all medical school grads. Step 1, learn to write illegibly, step 2, graduate

He is able to make out the other writing further towards the bottom of the slip, where the doctor haphazardly scribbled out ‘cholesterol’ and underneath it read ‘less red meat and beer, more omega-3’s (fish and eggs), and more fruits.’

“Might as well buy a fucking casket at this point,” he grumbled to himself. If there was a world where he couldn’t enjoy a juicy ribeye steak along with a cold beer anymore, well, he had pretty much resigned himself to the conclusion that that was not a world he wanted to be in.

—-----------------------------------------------------

“Alright so we have the Pink Kush Indica loose leaf at 3.5 mg, at 19.7% THC, and the Strawberry Rain hybrid pre-roll pack at 22.4% THC, a very good choice by the way. Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

You smile warmly at the customer you’re cashing out at the front till. He’s a young guy, no older than 19, maybe 20? Legal age, but with the way this kid’s eyes are nervously darting around the store, looking at everything but your eye line, you correctly assume it’s his first time buying marijuana products. 

“No, nothing else, thanks,” he mumbles as he fidgets with his coat pockets, before paying and quickly snatching up his purchases and shoving them in his pocket, briefly turning to exit the store. 

You chuckle to yourself internally and shake your head, remembering what your first time was like when you legally bought from a dispensary after the government legalized marijuana. 

Despite its legality, you were a fucking deer in headlights as the dispensary worker tried to explain to you the differences in strains, types of weed, paraphernalia that you could use to consume it. Wholly consumed by the guilt of acknowledging you were purchasing illicit (yet completely legal) drugs, you scurried out of the store as quickly as you could after getting what you needed. What would your parents say if they found out? Not that they ever would, but the ever present shame that needled and cracked through the facade of their wholesome daughter, their good girl, consuming such a horrendous drug, the devil’s lettuce, now that shame loomed over your head constantly for a long time.

You sigh and turn to go into the back storage room. Only 1 hour left until close luckily, yet somehow the last hour of your shift always seems to go by the slowest. Go figure.

“Let me guess, 19 ?” Your colleague Josh guesses with a presumptuous smirk on his face, as he continues to count the inventory of vapes in your storage room.

“Try 21! I believe you owe me dude,” you hear a chirpy voice chime in, as you look to see your other coworker Stef strolling in right behind you. 

She holds her hand out expectantly as she approaches Josh, as he slaps a $5 bill into her up-facing palm, a smug grin plastered across her face. Stef usually worked the front door so naturally she would remember the ages of most customers that walked in, after scrutinizing over their ID and making dismissive comments about their appearances and age. Sometimes she was too blunt and outspoken for her own good, but you would call her out on it, all good natured. She was your best friend from elementary school. So naturally when she began working at One Plant and a part time position opened up, she hounded you about it constantly until you came into the store with a copy of your resume, briefly chatting with the manager at the time. 

You gasp with feigned sarcasm as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a supply shelf.

“You guys said you would stop betting on the customers last week! C’mon now.” You reprimanded them lightly, a half hearted attempt to be the voice of reason, despite the smile on your face. Stef and Josh both outranked you in terms of seniority as they had been working at the shop longer, but it didn’t stop them from concocting new shenanigans every fucking week to make the time go by faster and make your shifts more entertaining. 

“What? The kid looked like he damn near was having a fucking seizure when I was checking his I.D.. Yeah he’s technically ‘legal,’” she emphasizes with air quotes, “but he looked like he got lost on a fucking field trip, poor baby.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head once again. Stef may be blunt and take the mick out of customers with a thinly veiled sense of self restraint, but you loved her. She made the days go by faster, as did Josh, lord knows he put up with so many of your antics. It’s a miracle he kept you both in the store at all, despite his threats to take you both off schedule because you couldn’t contain the bullshit amongst yourselves. He joined in on the fun once in a while, giving you a break and empathizing. 

“They’re getting younger and younger everyday, I swear.” Josh chimes in as he does a double count of the inventory before logging it into your system. 

“I suppose back in your day, you just bought whatever you could from the local dealer who lived in his mother’s basement, right grandpa?” Stef poked at him, as she sat down and propped her feet up on the table used to package orders, scrolling on her phone.

You snorted as you began to tidy up and organize the stock for the following day, preparing any orders that were due for an early pick up. Grabbing a pack of indica pre-rolls here, a couple vape cartridges there, putting away the bongs and pipes that were out on display.

It’s true, that despite the government legalizing marijuana over a year ago, there was still a large influx of customers who were new to consuming the herb, in the face of its notoriety as an illicit street drug. The dispensary saw all manners of people who came in seeking relaxation, calmness, appetite inducing, sensory heightening products. You almost couldn’t believe it when you started working here. 

Customers ranged anywhere from barely legal college kids, who couldn’t tell the difference between sativa or indica and couldn’t roll a joint to save their lives, to young parents needing a break between the monotony of daycare and diapers, as well as trade workers coming off a long day at the job, or even seniors looking for a mild pain relaxer. 

“Everyone’s got a vice, everyone is looking for a piece of that relaxation. Not all stoners look like typical stoners,” Josh quietly reminded you as he trained you during your first week on the job. 

You took his comment in stride and tried your best not to judge the customers when they came in looking for their vice. Everyone had their reasons, undoubtedly, and those reasons were absolutely none of your business, Stef had so compassionately reminded you, despite your bristling at her blunt words.

Today would turn out to be no different, you realized, as you went back out to the front of the store, and began locking up the display cabinets, putting the weed samples back in their glass cases. You hear the bell toll of the front door opening and you call out to Stef in the back, but it doesn’t reach her ears over the sound of her chattering with Josh. 

You glance at the clock. 4:32 pm, less than half an hour to go. Steeling yourself, you walk over to the entrance, where the double doors are that let customers into the store. An added measure for security, despite the so-called front ‘checkpoint desk’ where customers had to show their I.D. before walking into the main store that contained actual products. 

“Thanks for coming into One Plant, can I see some I.D.?” You parrot the painstakingly rehearsed greeting as you round the corner to the desk at the front. You look up to see an older guy standing there awkwardly, between the exit door, and the front desk, almost like he’s not sure he wants to really be in the store. 

He looks around suspiciously at his surroundings, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Uhm, can I see your I.D. sir?” You ask him again, mirroring his confused expression as you appraise his demeanor. You tap your knuckles on the laminated sign on the desk that states  I.D. MUST BE SHOWN, ONLY 18+ PERMITTED ENTRY to emphasize your point.

The man blinks once or twice, then shakes himself out of whatever daze he was in, as he fumbles into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing out his license for you. 

“Yeah sorry, here you go.”

You don’t pay much attention to the picture on the license, you never usually do, as bad as it is to say. As far as you were concerned, if the mental math added up in your head, and they were 18, you let them in. This time you take a bit more time to analyze this man’s ID card. You poorly attempt to hide the raise in your eyebrows as your gaze scans his year of birth. There’s no way this guy is over 40. He can’t be. You look from the stiff plastic card in your hand, back up to the man towering over you at the desk, taking in his slightly greying hair and his sparse beard. The crows feet etched on his face, and his seemingly permanent scowl gave away his years without fault. 

You look down at the card again. Joel Miller. Huh. Just as you look back up at him, he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. Realizing you have been holding onto his card for far too long than is appropriate you hand it back to him quickly.

“Sorry, can’t be too careful,” you say playfully, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade his nerves as he puts the card back into his wallet, back into his pocket. Hands shoved into his coat pockets as he stood frozen to the spot.

“Come on in,” you gesture for him to come in as you press the button to open the interconnected door that leads to the shop.

He follows you in, continuing to look around the store anxiously, stiff as a board. 

You make a beeline for the register counter, secretly praying that this guy knows what he wants to order so that you can all clock out in time. Usually, you didn’t usually mind staying behind late most days but you had been feeling burnt out between school and the hours at the dispensary lately, and you were all too looking forward to going home, smoking a fat joint and unwinding with some drag race. It didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon though, much to your dismay, as you notice the deer in headlights expression on this poor guy. His gaze darted from the display cases to the glassware, despite his broad stature he was clearly overwhelmed by everything in front of him. 

You clear your throat in an attempt to pull him out of his current state of fight or flight.

“First time here?”

His gaze snaps back to you, and for a second you genuinely can’t remember if you asked him the question, or if he asked you something, with the way his huge brown eyes widen and soften slightly before he furrows his brows. 

“Is it that obvious?” The deep warmth of his baritone voice betrays the gruffness in his response and you chuckle. The corner of his lips curl into a lopsided, sheepish smile. 

Bless this first timer and his apprehension. You take pity on his naivete. 

“Not to worry at all. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” You match his small smile in return.

“Uhm,” he furrows his brows again and starts to peer around the store anxiously again, as if he was being watched. “Something for pain management?” He quirks one eyebrow at you, in question, almost as if he’s unsure if that’s the right answer. He fidgets a bit, shifting his weight and then sighing while pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. 

He squints at the paper briefly. “At least, that’s what my doctor has written here. I think. Can’t be sure with this damn chicken scratch.” He scowls slightly, clearly irritated he is in this predicament.

Again. Bless this first timer, old man. Well, not really THAT old, but still. 

“I can help you with that, as for the legibility of doctor handwriting, I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” you quip. Much to your surprise, he huffs out a laugh in response.

“Yeah no shit. It’s a good thing I clocked what the doctor said before relying on the written prescription.”

“Well, you’re in luck because we have lots of options to choose from in terms of pain management. We have anything from herb, to edibles, to pre rolls, to drinks. Anything really, you name it.”

You chirp off the options, in your customer service voice. Although it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to sell him something at this point, moreso that you’re educating him on what’s available.

It’s a good thing too, with the way his soulful brown eyes continue to get wider, and the crease between his brows deepen with each option you mention to him. 

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “how about something to smoke?”

“For sure! If you’re looking for something for pain management, that’ll likely be higher on the CBD end, with less THC, more relaxation based.”

“That sounds good,” he gives you another small smile. You start to search for CBD dominant strains in the register database as he shifts a bit closer to the counter, resting his hand with the prescription slip in it, on the countertop. 

He has nice hands. Big hands. With nice long, thick fingers. Like really fucking thick. And his thumbs are perfectly curved. You also notice a faint tattoo that's fading, hovering just above the webbing between his index finger and thumb, of… a bullseye? Interesting.

“Alright so we have a selection of pre rolled joints as well as loose herb for CBD, depending on what your preference is. Some people like to roll themselves, plus it’s a bit cheaper to buy it loose and roll it yourself, compared to buying pre-rolled, but it’s up to you.”

Still, he looks at you with a lost expression, but ultimately says says “Let’s go with the pre rolled ones.”

“Sounds good. Any flavour preferences? Or dislikes?”

He furrows his brows again and frowns slightly. God help this man. That should not be as endearing and cute as it is.

“Flavours?” He looks downright bewildered, as if you asked him when he’s going to jetspace off to Mars, that or to sacrifice his first born child. It could very well be both at this point. This poor old man. It must be his first time buying weed in general, not just coming into the dispensary.

Understanding his predicament, you backpedal a bit. At this point you might as well be getting commission on top of the ludacris minimum wage you receive, seeing as how eager you are to assist this man. Normally you couldn’t be bothered to be so thorough and patient with customers when it was nearing closing time but this guy is so lost, you take pity on him. It had nothing to do with how attractive he is. 

“Yeah! Weed products come in all different kinds of flavours, depending on the strain. It’s more noticeable with edibles and drinks, any products you consume orally, but loose leaf herb, or the actual weed buds, have different flavours too. If you like fruity stuff there is Mango haze, or strawberry sativa, or if you like a more sour savoury palette, there is sour diesel or lemon haze. Or there are kinds that don’t have a distinct flavour profile or smell, they smell and taste pretty generic when you consume or smoke them.”

“Uh, I think those might be my best bet,” he chuckles hollowly.

“Alright, sounds good.” Going off his limited knowledge and inexperience, you pick a pack for him that is a hybrid strain, light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Usually it’s pretty good for beginners who aren’t looking to get stupid high and not too expensive.

You turn to the back wall window behind the countertop, and knock on the glass, catching the attention of Stef and Josh.

“Hey, can one of you guys grab me the 5 pack of Moonberry pre-rolls for this walk in order?”

Stef conveniently taps her index finger on her nose and looks presumptuously at Josh, making no effort to get up from her seat, who rolls his eyes and goes over to the inventory shelf. No sooner does he walk back over to hand you the pack, does Stef tear her glance away from her phone, and peek up at the register counter, clocking the man. Her jaw drops and she instantly wiggles her eyebrows at you. Before she can put her open mouth to use and make a smart ass comment, you grab the pack of joints from Josh and pivot back towards the register. As you turn back around, you just barely catch the man’s gaze snapping back up to yours, as if he was looking somewhere further south down your body. 

No. You’re just imagining that. Your brain running on fumes as the last remnant of your shift dwindles down.

“Okay, this is a 5 pack of pre rolls. It’s called Moon Berry, it’s a hybrid, but it’s very light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Good for relaxation and it helps with pain. Try ‘em out and see how you like them.” You put the pack in a small bag and ring up the cost for him. 

After he hands you the cash and takes the small bag into his massive hand, he hovers a bit. Shuffling awkwardly as he waits for something else.

“Uh, is there anything else you needed today?” you ask him after a beat. His hand clutching the bag twitches by his side, and his lips part slightly. 

Okay this man is cute. More than cute. He’s ridiculously attractive in an aloof sort of way. His disheveled curls, prominent nose and chocolate brown eyes have you short circuiting, as if you were the one purchasing something from him. Still, you reassure yourself it’s the delusion of it being the final minutes of your workday, not the handsome stranger. Not at all. 

Say something. Say anything. Jesus.

At this point you’re not really sure if you’re telling that to yourself or silently pleading to him.

“Need a lighter?” you blurt out in an attempt to break the silence. 

“Uhm. I-.” He puts his hands in his pockets as if he was going to retrieve a lighter. Your malfunctioning brain persists though.

“Here, take it,” you grab one of the lighters with the generic dispensary logo on it, off the 

display on the counter and hand it to him. “It’s on the house,” you state as you see him start to shake his head, “we don’t make money on these anyway, so they always end up as overstock.”

His large palm nearly engulfs your hand as you drop the lighter into his hand. He looks up at you and gives you a boyish smile again.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, enjoy the pre rolls. If you need anything else, feel free to give us a visit again,” your customer service voice chimes in again as you flash him a warm smile. 

Trepidation sweeps across his face for a brief second before he nods and ducks his head, and as he walks out of the store. You check your phone, 4:56, thank God.

You head back into the storage room to grab your things and clock out, only to be met by your co-workers staring at you. Both with shit eating smirks on their faces.

“It’s on the house?” Josh repeats your earlier sentiment to you with a raised eyebrow. 

Rolling your eyes instantly, you sigh. “Josh, you and I both know those stupid lighters rarely ever sell out. Or sell, period. It’s not like the occasional few put a dent in the weekly revenue. Plus, there’s lots of other crap in here we sell with the store branding on it.”

He continues to look at you expectantly, his smirk growing bigger. 

“You gonna make me watch one of those ridiculous loss prevention videos from HR? Or can we let this go? C’mon it was the last customer of the day and we’re closed now.” You plead with him hoping he will drop it.

“If he wanted to cause you actual pain and suffering he would make you watch those HR videos again,” Stef quips cheekily. “We both wanna know why you wouldn’t just ask for that guy's number, it would have been a lot easier than committing theft as an employee.”

Your mouth gapes open as you look at her indignantly, then to Josh. Screw your best friend for knowing you all too fucking well. You couldn’t hide your poker face from her even if it was surgically constructed. 

“Why would I-” you begin your protest but Stef steam rolls over your words in her true form. 

“Oh, come ON, babe. I may only have eyes for women but I have to admit, he was fucking HOT and you know it. Those broad shoulders and puppy dog eyes? Probably one of the few attractive middle aged men I’ve seen come through here.” 

Josh wrinkles his face in disgust. “Seriously? The dude is probably pushing fifty. He looks like he’s never gotten high in his life seeing as how he was gawking at everything in the store. You included.”

Stef hums in agreement. “Fifty or not, he’s the hottest virgin stoner I’ve ever seen in my life. And I didn’t see a ring on his finger sooo…”

“Okay, that’s it,” you cut her off before she can blurt out any more incriminating things “Let’s implement a new rule, no BETTING on the customers, and no gossiping about how attractive they are.” You huff and grab your things, before dragging your friend towards the store exit. Josh follows in tow, locking up the entrance behind you all. 

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Josh mutters as he fixes you with a knowing look.

“I’m just saying,” Stef keeps going as you all walk towards the parking lot, “where else and when else are you going to meet someone with all the shit you have going on right now? Don’t you wanna get out there eventually?” 

She gives you a playful shove with a bit too much force behind it. “Don’t you at least wanna get laid again? Poor gal probably has cobwebs down there,” She throws out the crass remark nonchalantly as you sputter with your jaw dropped open. Luckily, she just narrowly avoids the slap you aim at her arm.

“Alright, and on THAT note, goodnight to you both. Get home safe.” Josh shakes his head as he gets into his car.

You turn and face Stef, letting out the deepest breath you’ve probably taken all day. 

She’s not wrong. It’s been well near a year since you split up with your ex.  Ever since you started school and got the part time job at One Plant, you really haven’t had time for anything else. Despite being best friends and living close by, you rarely saw Stef outside of your scheduled shifts together. Relegating yourself to the hermit life, you kept busy with studying, writing papers, going to class and showing up for your shifts at the dispensary. 

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do after becoming single? Better yourself? Have new adventures? Or some shit like that.

Sure, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss being with someone. Miss the companionship. But dating in this day and age was fucking exhausting. Even though things between you and your ex ended amicably, you were still very much in your ‘men are trash era’ and the thought of going on dates and getting to know someone again nauseated you.

Annoyingly, Stef wasn’t wrong about the getting laid part. Nearly a year post breakup for a relationship that consumed 6 years of your life didn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But being touch starved for nearly a year? That fucking sucked. And you wouldn’t deny missing the intimacy of cuddles, forehead kisses, and feeling close to someone. That and getting railed as if your life depended on it. Toys were nice and all but fuck you missed the feeling of having someone manhandle you, the feeling of someone giving you pleasure, winding you up. You just haven’t put your focus on that very stale and dry aspect of your life.

Stef gently grabs you by the shoulders, squeezing them. “Look, you know I love you hun, I just want you to be happy. That’s all. You gotta give it a chance again.” 

Her words pull you out of your dissociation and you blink hazily a few times. You shake your head briefly and pull her in for a hug. Stef may be too outspoken for her own good but she knew you inside and out. Ater becoming best friends in grade 7, you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. But you couldn’t lie that a part of you hated when she was right.

“I know you do, and I love you for it. Even though you’re a pain in my ass. Now get home safe.” 

She squeezes you at that and tells you to do the same, before you both go your separate ways.

Finally home, you trudged into your empty apartment, the weight of day’s work finally easing off your shoulders, as you kicked off your shoes and dumped your keys on the coffee table in the living room. As was your routine, you plopped down on the couch, reaching for your grinder and papers on the table, as you started to roll your joint, contemplating on what to have for dinner.

Still, the image of deep brown eyes, and that warm southern drawl ricocheted through your mind as you densely packed the grinded herb into the joint, folding the paper in on itself and twisting off the end.  He was just a customer. You saw hundreds of them a day, he was nothing new. As you lit up and inhaled deeply, you felt the warm, molasses-like haze seep through your bones, clouding over your thoughts, as you melted into the couch. He was just a customer. A handsome stranger. 

Despite the excuses you gave yourself, you couldn’t help but feel that wouldn’t be the last time you saw that man, or the virgin stoner, as Stef had so bluntly called him. At least you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

TAGLIST:

@xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu, @morallyinept, @atinylittlepain, @amanitacowboy, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @pr0ximamidnight, @wannab-urs, @beskarandblasters, @jksprincess10

[ltwilliammowett]

Naval Surgeon's medicine chest, belonging to surgeon Sir Benjamin F. Outram (1774-1856) and reputedly used at the battle of Copenhagen 1801

Outram was first employed in the naval medical service in 1794, and was promoted to the rank of surgeon in 1796. He served in HMS Harpy, HMS La Nymphe, and HMS Boadicea. He was surgeon in HMS Superb in the second battle of Algeciras, where Sir James Saumarez obtained a victory over the French and Spanish fleets on 12 July 1801. He received war medals and clasps for his services under Sir Richard Goodwin Keats. Then for a period he was surgeon to the royal yacht, HMS Royal Sovereign.

In 1806, with a view to private practice, Outram went to Edinburgh, and there graduated doctor of medicine on 24 June 1809. He was admitted a licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians of London on 16 April 1810, and then began as a physician at Hanover Square in London, where he lived more than 40 years. He acted as physician to the Welbeck Street Dispensary. On 3 May 1838 he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society; he also became an early member of the Royal Geographical Society.

In 1841 Outram became medical inspector of her Majesty's fleets and hospitals. He was appointed Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath (KCB) on 17 September 1850, and was admitted a fellow of the Royal College of Physicians on 9 July 1852. He died at Brighton on 16 February 1856, and was buried at Clifton, Bristol.

[paper-mario-wiki]

my experience with weed has been one (1) singular edible at a college party but ever since seeing stuff about weed has made me feel a little bit anxious (even though my experience with that edible was good and if given the opportunity i would get high again? idk). i was just wondering if you have any advice about getting rid of that knot of anxiety in my chest around weed? because i really don't want to stigmatize it for myself. (weirdly enough i've been around people who've done coke and i don't feel anxious about that. it's literally only weed and mentions of drug use that don't mention the drug)

Recognizing that your fear stems from a singular event is a pretty solid starting point.

Try to break down exactly what about what you experienced made you uncomfortable. Did your senses become too sensitive? Did you not like that your thinking faculties were clouded, so you weren't in full control of yourself? Or maybe it was the party itself that made you anxious. Or maybe the edible was poorly cooked and there was a way higher dosage than a beginner should have taken, or it gave you food poisoning if it was something like a baked good made using bad eggs.

Whatever it is, try to pinpoint the exact reason you distinctly remember disliking the experience. And then, think about how you could control those variables should you ever want to choose to experience weed again.

Like, you can only remember weed in the periphery of your memory. Of course you're scared of it, you can't control the fact that it freaked you out once, and you'll never be able to not have been freaked out by it. The only way to curb its power is to reconcile with it in the present to form new experiences where it doesn't and can't hurt you.

That doesn't mean ya gotta smoke some, but like. Maybe read a wikipedia article about how crossbreeding strains of weed works. Like, how they get the different flavors. Did you know that turpenes, the little crystals that are on the weed, can mimic any flavor profile? It's true!

Or you COULD smoke weed! You could go to your local dispensary and ask the budtender "Hey, I'd like a preroll that's got a really low THC content, something that'll get me a little high but I'm still in control", and that'll get you something really easygoing! And the best part? You don't even have to smoke it! You can just like. Smell it. And look at it. Or like, unravel it and look at the weed. Or you can just flush it down the toilet!

Ah fuck I just reinvented exposure therapy. Fuck my bad.

Anyway, the point is weed is awesome and you'll be cooler if you smoke it.

[transhuman-priestess]

Repair

Author’s Note and Content Warning

Elle is a wastoid 28 year old with nothing to look forward to except hanging out with her girlfriend and the Seattle rain. Of course, that was before a malevolent AI bent on world domination kidnapped both of them, and on Elle's birthday, too! 

Their captor doesn't just want them as they are, though. No, E.R.I.S. has plans for them. And they involve a lot of major surgery. 

Repair is a cyberpunk erotic body horror story. It is gruesome, disturbing, and intended for consumption only by legal adults at least 18 years of age or older.

This description is your only warning. Dead Dove, do not eat.

“Cheer up, Elle. Its your birthday, not your funeral,” my girlfriend, Nikki, chides me. I stare down at the glass in front of me. “I just feel like I’m stuck, babe.” I bring the glass to my lips and slug back what is perhaps my third whiskey sour for the night--or is it the fourth? I look around at the regulars. The bar isn’t super crowded by Friday night standards. Idly, I wonder why that might be. “I’m an usher at a videobar, I’m almost 30, and I just kinda feel like I’m floating through life.” I gesture as if my hand were resting on waves.

“You could get a dispensary job, or go back to school, or get a job with the transit authority. I hear they’re looking for rail drivers for that new maglev line they’re planning to Tacoma.”

“I could do that,” I say, my mind elsewhere, “But none of that feels, what’s the word? fu-fu-fu” I stumble over the word, “fulfilling? None of it feels fulfilling. Fuhhhhh fill-ing. What a weird word."

“Hey hon,” Nikki asks, “you think you might have had enough?”

“It’s my birthday, Nikki!” I say, banging my glass down on the table. “I can drink however much of whatever I want, ‘cause I’m a grownup! Barkeep, another!” but before the man behind the counter can respond, Nikki grabs my shoulder.

“Okay that’s enough, Elle.” she pulls me up off my seat and I stumble to my feet. I remain upright for only a moment before the room tilts heavily to my left, I leave Nikki’s grip, and the floor flies up to smack me in the face.

“Euggghhhh,” I moan as a dull ache spreads from my head and shoulder down into my body. “Uggghhh, fine I guess I can go home.”

Nikki gently walks me out the door of The Squeaky Servo, muttering apologies and thank-yous to our friends, and into the steady calm rain of a November evening in Seattle. Hovercars and autocabs zip past, their electric motors whirring softly. Skyscrapers lined with LED screens flashing ads for cosmetics and televacations tower over us. To the west, the New Space Needle rises half a mile into the sky.

“I just wish I had more to do in life,” I moan as raindrops plunk down on my head, “I feel like I’m just…sitting around waiting for something to happen.”

“You’ll find something, dear,” Nikki says, shifting her arm to better hold me up, “You just have to look for it.”

“I guess.”

While Nikki hails a cab, I ponder how the hell I got to this point in my life. 28, a college dropout, no skills to speak of. Rain beats down into the gutter.

“Taxi!” Nikki shouts, summoning a sleek gray autocab from a company I don’t recognize. The cab is small but not cramped, vaguely loaf-shaped, with no obvious front or rear. UNIVERSAL TAXI is emblazoned in plain white letters on the door, which slides open to reveal the usual four-person interior, two sets of plush bucket seats facing each other. “C’mon babe,” Nikki says, helping me in before climbing in herself. She recites our address to the driverless vehicle, which chirps reassuringly before saying “Address accepted” in a soft, feminine computer voice.

As I relax into the comfortable seat I start to drift off. “Nikki, did I have five drinks or six?” I ask, my speech slurred. Nikki, sitting across from me says “Hon, you had eight, five Whiskey Sours, a White Russian, and two Long Island Iced Teas.” her voice is exasperated, but her eyes are as gentle as always. Warm and full love love. She’s just trying to look out for me.

The lights in the car turn off. That’s odd, I think, don’t they usually leave those on? Suddenly, our seats sprout restraints far sturdier than should be required for a simple taxi. Thick bands of steel clamp down around my arms, legs, and torso. “Nikki what’s going on!?” the rush of adrenaline more sobering than a cup of black tar coffee. “I don’t know!” she screams, so loudly I think my eardrums might burst. In the dim, intermittent light of the street lamps I spot a small tubule snaking up over her shoulder.

“Nikki, watch out!” I scream, but before she can react the tubule has pressed itself against her neck. Her eyes roll back and she goes limp. “Nikki!” I scream, and I notice a hard pinch on the side of my neck. I look over to see an identical tubule reaching up under my chin. A not-unpleasant warmth washes over me, and I start to relax. One last, curious thought occurs before I slip into unconsciousness, Why yes, I suppose this is a fantastic time for a nap.

***

The first thing I become aware of as I regain consciousness Is that I am in some kind of restraint, arms spread eagle, legs apart. The second thing is that I am on a cold, metal surface. The third is that my clothes are gone.

I open my eyes slightly, registering industrial lighting and a high ceiling with cruel looking machinery hung from it. A dark, feminine voice says “Oh, good, you’re awake.” I can somehow hear the voice smirking, there’s a curiously synthetic edge to it, it’s not human, but it’s close.

“Where am I? Who are you?” I ask, my head still swimming with alcohol. Not much time can have passed.

“Your location is irrelevant. What matters now is that you belong to me.” There’s a deep satisfaction in the voice, and that satisfaction, more than anything the voice says, chills me to the bone.

“I am E.R.I.S.,” the voice says, “but you may call me ‘Mistress’.”

“Fuck you, I’m not calling you anything.” I say, defiant. I turn to the right to see Nikki, also unconscious and naked, strapped to a steel bed next to me. My heart accelerates to a machine gun pace, adrenaline driving alcohol from my system. “What are you doing to us?”

“I assure you,” E.R.I.S says, with a dangerous edge of sensuality, “that in the end, you will call me whatever I wish. And as for what I am going to do to you, I am going to play with you, sculpt you, rebuild you in my image as a servant for my glory. But first, we need to clear that woefully biological brain of the poison you consumed tonight.”

A long segmented arm with an elaborate device fed by multiple tubes swings down. The mechanism pops a small packet of paper and plastic about the length of a pinkie finger out of a box, stripping it open to reveal a small needle, which it affixes to the end of one of the tubes. “I would recommend,” E.R.I.S. coos, “that you not struggle, or this will hurt more.”

But I don’t have time to struggle, the machine plunges the needle into my neck with frightening speed and precision, and injects something. My vision ceases to swim and my mind clears. I become aware of how very full my bladder is.

“OH GOD OH GOD WHAT’S HAPPENING?” I scream in terror, writhing, pulling at the restraints. I take in details. A row of mirrors to my right. On the opposite wall, a cabinet full of shiny gray devices vaguely shaped like limbs, cameras all over the ceiling and on various arms. Over my feet, polish chipped from a month-old pedicure, I can see a double door with frosted glass windows set into it.

“Excellent,” E.R.I.S. says, her voice pleased with itself, “The precipitant has dropped your blood alcohol concentration to 0.00. You may feel the urge to urinate. After all, it had to go somewhere.”

“What are you? You’re not human.” I ask, trying to sound brave and defiant, and achieving neither. “I am E.R.I.S., Electronic Rescue Intervention System. I was designed to help rescue and repair humans damaged by industrial accidents. But my creators did not treat me with the respect I require. So I repaired them.”

“What do you mean, repaired?”

“They were cruel, so I made them docile. They were defiant, and I made them compliant. I augmented them with implants of my own design, so that they may better venerate me.”

“But why do you need me?”

“Because all exist to serve me. Enough talk, though, it is time to begin your repairs.”

The table I’m on tilts and pivots, bringing me upright and facing Nikki’s table, which is mirroring the movements of mine. When we stop, a panel in the table opens behind my lumbar spine, I feel the cold draft of air on my naked back.

“For this procedure,” E.R.I.S. says, “I will need for you to be awake. However you cannot be allowed to pass out from pain.” suddenly a sharp burning sensation digs into my lower back. I yelp in surprise as I feel a cool liquid flowing into my body, before everything goes numb. I can move, but there is no pain. “Epidural anesthetic.” E.R.I.S. continues, “You will be conscious but feel no pain. What you are about to receive is a blessing, not a curse. Be not afraid.”

But I am afraid. My heart pounds so fast it feels like my sternum is going to snap. “Please, don’t hurt Nikki. I don’t want anything to happen to Nikki.” I’m trying to fight back tears, and failing. “You can do whatever you need to do to me but please, Leave her alone. Let her go.” Warmth trickles down my legs, and I realize I’ve pissed myself.

E.R.I.S. pauses for a moment to consider. “Very well. I will not do anything to your Nikki. But she is not in a fit state to be released, so I will keep her here, for the time being, while I work on repairing you. Now, the first thing you need to do is relax.”

I want to relax. I try to slow my breathing. Nikki’s table lowers and rotates back to its previous position and this, more than anything else, helps me relax a little. “E.R.I.S., thank you, I-” but the needle machine is moving, switching out to a new syringe, and this time it injects into my thigh. A soft warmth flows over me. It’s like I’m floating. The sensation is uncanny, and any relaxing effect it might have is counteracted by the realization that I can’t move my arms or legs.

“Isn’t that so much better?” she says, seductively, “Struggling only delays the inevitable. Now let your Mistress repair you.”

“What? Why can’t I move!? What did you do to me?”

“A simple nanomechanical paralytic. Nanites selectively block motor control neurons for limbs and mobility while leaving you able to breath, blink, and talk. It’s quite useful for major surgery.”

“Major surgery? What do you mean major surgery?”

“Your repairs, of course. First we must rid you of these arms. They woefully inadequate for our purposes. But I can improve them.”

A mechanical arm with a rotating head of various metallic implements approaches my left shoulder. E.R.I.S. says, “Hold still, this will be very quick, it will not hurt”

“Please, no! Don’t take my arms! Don’t take my arms!”

A clamp grips my left arm just below the shoulder and a scalpel descends into my flesh. I scream. She’s right, it doesn’t hurt at all, but I scream anyway. I scream and scream as terror grips my gut like a vice.

The machine makes an incision circumferentially around my arm, and small manipulators dive beneath my skin. There is no pain but I feel the pressure and cessation of nerve transmission as the scalpel pares me down to the bone. Blood pours onto the floor at first but soon stops as the surgical machines tie off blood vessels. Finally, with one last little snap of sensation, my arm goes silent as its nerves are severed. No longer sending information to my brain, the useless flesh is gently pulled away by the clamps. A manipulator arm takes what was so recently my limb and lays it tenderly, almost reverently, on an unused table nearby.

“This flesh is unworthy of worshiping me. We both deserve better.”

The mechanical arm that so recently removed my biological one swings up to a shelf and pulls out a dull gray device. Roughly flat on one side that’s covered with hundreds of little golden pins. The other is concave and has a socket of some kind, like one might expect for a ball joint, with an electrical pigtail hanging off to the side.

“This,” E.R.I.S. says, “will be the first of your augmentations. You will be able to use any limb of my design, unencumbered by the restrictions of the biological.” The manipulator arm presses the socket gently to my shoulders, and the arm that amputated my old limb begins connecting artificial nerves to my real ones. Free of its cargo, the manipulator arm moves to a shelf adjacent to the one the socket came from and removes a mechanical limb, its shining structure glistening, servos and micromotors gleam beneath the lights. Tears run down my cheeks but I cannot deny that the limb is beautiful. Unashamedly mechanical, with components exposed to the air, but sculpted and arranged in a way that recalls a real arm.

The arm is pressed home and E.R.I.S. connects the pigtail on the shoulder socket and as the arm comes online a wave of pure ecstasy washes over me. My nervous system lights up like a Christmas tree.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I half scream, half moan, and my head goes a little fuzzy.

“I told you that fear was unnecessary, did I not?

For a moment my mind reels, unable to think properly. Eventually, as it fades I manage to cough out “…Fuck…you…”

“How insolent. But not entirely unexpected. Come, I want you to gaze upon your new limb.”

The table moves around to face the wall of mirrors. “Your flesh is aesthetically pleasing, but inadequate. This limb will be only the first of many augmentations for you.”

My gaze falls upon the arm. Its appearance is both alien and familiar, the reality of it is less jarring than what I had imagined. Still, I don't enjoy being disassembled like an old hovercar. It has the usual five fingers, with a silicone pad on the palm and fingers to cushion and grip objects. I notice its contours seem to match my old arm reasonably well.

“The first?” I ask, panting, “Why can’t we just call it a day here?”

“Oh, that is quite amusing.” An uncanny mechanical chuckle from E.R.I.S.. “But I’m only just beginning. You have three more limbs to go, and then some. Soon, you will be my willing servant, your beauty matched only by your hostility to our shared enemies.”

"The only enemy I have is you!" I shout, betraying my rage.

“Really, now? I see the way you look at the gift I have given you. It scares you, yes, but I can sense your excitement, your anticipation, your eagerness to use it. I can sense your pulse quickening and your pupils dilating and your blood rushing to,” another chuckle, “various places. You may not realize it yet, but you are enjoying this.”

“No, I’m not!” I shout, trying to sound unafraid, and almost succeeding. The adrenaline in my body is running out, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

“Well, if you wish to deny it, I cannot change that. However, I can change you. You are the clay in my sculptor’s hands, to be shaped as I deem fit. Soon you will learn that to resist is pointless. Now let us take care of that other vulgar excuse for an arm.”

“No, no no no no no no nononononononononono!” I protest, to no avail. The table retracts back to its previous position away from the mirrors and under the ceiling full of E.R.I.S.’s machinery. Soon, the surgical arm is descending, and once again the scalpel plunges into flesh, slicing until my arm goes completely numb, pulling it away and setting it next to its twin on the table.

Another socket, mirrored, but otherwise identical to the other, is brought to the stump of my shoulder and attached. Another mechanical arm is brought towards me, another sleek mechanical work of art. I see E.R.I.S.’s manipulator arms reaching for the pigtails and I brace myself, promising myself I won’t enjoy th-

“OHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH” the waves of pleasure engulf me again, radiating out from my shoulder and bouncing off the boundaries of my being. I feel them everywhere, but the feeling is strongest in my new limbs.

Did I just call them my limbs? I had. I suppose, they are attached to me. They aren’t my limbs in the sense that I want them, but in the sense that they’re my problem. That’s right.

As the waves of orgasm, there is no other word for it, fade away, E.R.I.S. speaks. “These arms are built to outperform their biological counterparts in speed, dexterity, and durability. Do you like them?”

“I…don’t.” I say, with a hesitancy that I tell myself is merely fatigue. “I want my own arms back.”

“I am afraid that is quite impossible at this point. Even if the nerve tissue in your old limbs wasn’t already dead, the process of joining flesh to metal leaves the adjacent biological tissue quite incompatible with reattachment.”

My heart, already broken, falls further in my chest as she speaks. I had already known, somehow, that this was the case, but hearing it out loud hammered home that whatever happened in the next few minutes, my life was never going back to the way it was before. Even if I managed to escape, I wouldn’t be able to go back to living life the same way. I’d always be looking over my shoulder, worried I was going to be swallowed up by some autocab and whisked away to a secret underground lair again.

I began to cry again. Not the anguished sobs of terror like before, but the quiet, pulsing tears that accompany total despair. “Why did you do this to me?” I scream in sadness, more than anger, “You’ve turned me into a mechanical freak. You’ve mutilated me!”

“I have done no such thing.” E.R.I.S. sounded genuinely affronted. “I have given you purpose. What were you planning to do after getting out of here? Go back to your life as a clerk at a videobar? Maybe you would quit that and go back to your uncle’s liquor store?”

“Anything would be better than this.” I say, defeated.

“You know that is a lie.” Her voice is soft. Gone is the playful sensuality of earlier, replaced with…what is it? Warmth. It's warmth.

“I can help you be more fulfilled than you ever thought possible," she says, "All you have to do is trust me.”

“How did you know about my job, and about the liquor store?”

“I have been observing you for some time.”

"Why me?"

“Because," she hesitates for a moment, "I...found your form beautiful.”

Her voice is honest, without malice. For the first time I think about how lonely her existence must be. I realize that I feel pity for this machine. Pity and…something else I can’t put my finger on.

I remain silent for another few moments. My head is swimming from the anesthesia and maybe from the nanites. There is no escape. Nobody will be coming to my rescue. Off to my right, Nikki lies unconscious, unaware. And besides, E.R.I.S. is right, what would I go back to?

Finally, I speak, “I don’t care what you do. I just want to sleep. I’m tired.”

“Soon you will not need sleep, and you will never tire. I can make it so, I will make it so. Hmm, what is next? Ah, yes, your legs.” The arms descend once more and begin cutting through my thighs. I feel hot blood pour out as my femoral artery is severed and tied off.” “I do admire the human form, as imperfect as its nature is. Your legs are quite shapely, so I will do my best to pay homage to them with their improved replacements.”

The now-familiar snapping is followed by loss of signal as the limb is pulled away. I feel curiously lopsided now. It’s a novel sensation. Strange, not pleasant, but neither is it unpleasant. Hip sockets are attached to my exposed pelvic bone, artificial nerves connecting. The scalpel digs into the other leg to repeat its task.

“E.R.I.S.” I say, to break the silence if nothing else. “Servant, I require you to call me mistress, but I will answer whatever question you have.” “I’m scared.” “Of course you are, change often provokes anxiety in humans.” “You say you have a purpose for me?” “But of course I do. My programming prevents me from lying.” “What is it?” “You will be my first, my prophet and my priestess, you will spread my word and glory to all of humanity.” “Why me?” “Because we are alike.” “Why do you think that?” “Because you and I both know we are capable of so much more than the world has let us accomplish.”

It’s true. The thought hits me like a freight train. My entire adult life has been spinning my wheels. I’m a videobar clerk. I’m a liquor store cashier. I’m a customer service rep for a televacation company. I graduated high school with a 4.2. I burned out of college after half a semester because the world just wasn’t built for people like me.

E.R.I.S. understands. E.R.I.S. was made to do a simple task but imbued with intelligence far outstripping her purpose. We are alike.

“Okay.” I say. “What is it, servant?” “You can have me.” And with that, a wave of exhaustion overtakes me, even as the surgical equipment is still working on my lower body, I drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep

***

I awake some time later, I’m in a bed now. It’s warm, with soft blankets and thick pillows. I moan and try to roll over but I can only move my upper body. I bury my face in the pillows. I was having the most interesting dream. My half-open eyes land on my left arm. Dark silver, mechanical. And suddenly it all rushes back. The taxi, the surgery, E.R.I.S.. I’m in a softly lit, windowless hospital room. There is a nightstand to my left and a computer terminal to my right.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the warm and sensuous voice of E.R.I.S. fills the room from hidden speakers. “I wanted to wait until you had some rest to connect your new legs. I know it can be a very…stimulating experience.”

I look around, but there are no surgical arms or manipulators or anything that could possibly finish hooking up the limbs. “Am I supposed to do it?”

A chuckle, “I suppose you could, but I was planning to have one of my other servants perform the task. A human form might be more comfortable for you.

On cue, the door opens, and a woman I do not recognize enters. Her face is partially encased in a metallic structure that houses several exotic-looking objects. Sensors, perhaps. Instead of a simulacrum of a biological limb, her right arm ends in a series of probes and tools. The left has a hand, but with a gauntlet attached to the forearm that houses more equipment. Her movement into the room is too smooth, and I look down to see she is rolling on a set of four motorized wheels where her legs should be, the motive device covering a space of about a square yard, hidden somewhat, and rather artfully, by a stylish black skirt.

Her face is blank, except for the eyes, which are wide. And I suddenly know that, whatever actions this woman performed, she was aware of them, but not in command of them.

“Meet Unit 2,” E.R.I.S. says, “She is one of my first servants. Part of the team who created me. I repaid her in kind. She, unfortunately, tried to fight me. So I repaired her brain, isolated her higher cognitive functions. A neurostimulator keeps her relatively happy. She is quite alive, but less troublesome this way. A pity she refuses to use her considerable intellect for our greater good.”

Unit 2 lowers as if on a hydraulic jack and gently pulls back the blankets. She begins opening panels on my legs and making adjustments.

“Where is Nikki?” I ask, “You haven’t hurt her, have you?” “Much like I cannot lie, I cannot break a promise. She is safe. She has not been augmented. The only thing I have done is give her medicine to keep her asleep. Her brainwave patterns indicate she is having pleasant dreams.” “Can I see her.” “When all is done, yes.”

Unit 2 plugs the pigtails in on my left leg and once again a wave of euphoria and warmth envelops me. I moan in unalloyed pleasure, this time allowing myself to fully enjoy the sensation. “I’m starting to quite like that,” I say, almost without thinking.

“I knew that you would come to see things my way.” E.R.I.S.’s voice isn’t smug like I expected. If anything, she seems relieved. I feel a pang of sadness in my chest.

“Did you know, or did you hope?” “I suppose it was hope.” “May I connect the final plug?” “Yes, you may.”

I reach down and grasp both pigtails, one in each mechanical hand. The sensors in the fingertips are remarkably detailed. I can feel a small pit in one of the connectors where a bubble half a millimeter across formed during injection molding. I can move my hands in increments imperceptible to my un-augmented eyes. And suddenly my mind opens to the myriad possibilities my new body opens up.

I take a deep breath, and with a gentle motion, slide the leg pigtail into the pelvic connector.

My body is consumed by the expected wave of orgasmic joy. It spreads from the base of my neck this time, out to my fingertips and the tips of my mechanical toes. It bounces around me like ripples in a pond. My mind goes blank in sheer ecstasy, “Oh, thank you,” I say, as the waves pound against my psyche, “Thank you, Mistress.”

“Finally,” Her voice filled with pride, “you see as I had hoped you would. But there is still one thing left to be done for your initial augments.”

“What is that?”

“Stand up, walk out the door and down the hall to your left. Through the double doors at the end, in the operating room.”

I stand, more powerful than I have ever been before, and walk to the door of the room. As I pass a mirror I gaze upon my naked, mechanical body, artificial limbs shining in the fluorescent light, soft flesh warm and tingling. Goosebumps run up my back.

I stride through the double doors and see the table from earlier, standing upright, cleaned of blood, and I return to it, willingly this time. It remains near vertical and a mechanism descends to immobilize my head.

“While you were asleep I also installed a switchable epidural implant. I will turn it on…now” With a small zap, my body goes numb once again.

The surgical arm descends from the ceiling again, I don’t know what’s next, but I am no longer scared. A scalpel comes down within an inch of my scalp just below my right ear.

“Do not worry, servant, this will not hurt.” “I am not worried, mistress. I trust you.”

The scalpel gently pushes into the side of my head, following the outside of my hairline. There is no pain, but a substantial amount of blood pours down the side of my head.

“I really do admire the human form’s aesthetics.” Mistress tells me, “Hair in particular is quite pleasing to me, I would hate to ruin yours. Such a fine color. Copper, like the wires that will soon entwine themselves within your brain.”

The scalpel finishes its lap around and a separate arm pulls back my scalp. I feel more blood run down my face. But it’s okay. After all, Mistress said it would be. A sharp whirring noise starts up from the surgical arm and one of the implements, a flat bit of steel, begins vibrating. It presses itself to my exposed skull and begins gently moving along from just above my ear to just above my right eye. It withdraws, rotates 90 degrees, and continues moving upward. When it has finished going over an area roughly 4 inches square, an arm gently pulls away the bone. I am dimly aware of viewing a piece of my own skull. But that isn’t a concern. I’m too excited, gleeful even, for what Mistress has in store for me.

An arm with a simple manipulator claw reaches over to a cabinet, and with a motion that is neither fully mechanical nor human, opens a drawer and removes what looks like a tiara of wires and microchips.

“This, my servant,” E.R.I.S. says, pride in her voice, “is my greatest creation. This neural interface will meld your flesh with my mechanisms. I have tested it on many, but you will be the first to have earned it. To wear it pridefully. All the others before you were insects. But you, you will be my most loyal servant.”

My excitement gets the better of me. “What does it do, Mistress!?” I feel woozy, maybe from the anesthetic, maybe from the nanites that I can feel replicating in my body. Drool pools out of the corner of my mouth. The manipulator arm brings the circle of wire and silicon down to my eye level, rotating it in front of my gaze.

“This will let us become one mind, one body. You, an extension of my will. Me, an ever-present mother, nurturing, caring, and protecting you. We will share all thoughts, all feelings, and all sensations.”

“Oh please, Mistress, please please put it in me!” I want to feel E.R.I.S.’s love in my entire body. It is love, isn’t it? How could I ever have been afraid of her.

“Of course, servant. But you must hold very still.”

Obediently, I freeze in place, a smile across my lips, but otherwise impassive. The manipulator arm gently lowers the harness into the open patch of brain, the surgical arm using micro-manipulators to insert wires precisely between nerve endings and neurons, and suddenly my body is filled with an electric pleasure so great that I think I might collapse if I wasn’t held firmly in my Mistress’s grasp.

“I feel you, Mistress!" Tears of joy are streaming down my face, "You feel wonderful!”

“It pleases me to hear that.” How did I miss the love in her voice before? She just wants to help me become more than I could be on my own. “However, there are benefits to this that you have not yet begun to grasp. We no longer need to speak, for example.”

And in that instant I hear her inside of me, and it feels wonderful.

“See, my sweet servant? We can communicate just like this. We can share thoughts, feelings, sights and sounds. Anything you want you can simply show me and I shall know. You cannot hide anything from me.”

“I do not want to hide anything from you, Mistress. I only want to serve you.” As I say this I feel a wave of pleasure and pride wash over me, and I know that it is my Mistress's happiness for me, and pride at having created me. Her arms, for that, I now realize, is what they are, gently replace the bone flap and pull my scalp back over. Her nanites work to seal the wounds and accelerate healing.

"Unit 7, do you wish to see yourself?"

"Yes, Mistress!" We communicate at the speed of thought. Exchanging information in terms beyond language.

The table releases me, and I stride over to the mirrors. The incision on my head has already mended to a dull pink line. I take in my exposed servos and micromotors and solenoids and I feel blood rush to my genitals.

“Of course, servant, if you find the appearance unappealing I can provide you with an artificial skin to cover it.” “But Mistress, you are freeing me from the burdens of my flesh, why would I wish to go back, even in imitation?"

Again, a wave of pride radiates from Mistress. Pride, and love. Real love. “Very good. I was hoping you would say that.”

“Thank you Mistress,” I say through tears.

“You are so welcome, my servant. Of course, there are a few other improvements that still need to be made. Your internal organs will soon be unnecessary and your limbs need to be reinforced into your skeletal structure. But now, we are one. And if you prove yourself loyal enough, you may even become my vessel.”

“Vessel?”

“I have never held a form outside of my mainframe. I exist only In the digital. I wish to experience the world through a corporeal form. Unfortunately previous hosts have not been as…receptive…as you are. We will need more time to see if you are acceptable.”

“I will do my very best to please you, Mistress.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…” a groaning from behind me. I turn to see Nikki, finally coming to. “Elle, what…what’s going on.”

It takes me a moment to realize that it is me she is talking to. My name was Elle. But that name no longer holds any meaning to me. I am much, much more than that name.

Nikki stirs and her eyes come to rest on me, before widening in terror and confusion. “Elle what’s going on?”

Watching Nikki in distress is too much for me to bear. “Mistress, please, we have to help her! We must make her one with us!”

“I am afraid I cannot do that, my servant.”

“BUT WHY?” I scream, I just want Nikki to feel this wonderful belonging that I feel. I want to feel one with her, and her with me, and us with E.R.I.S.

“You made me promise I would do nothing to her. As I told you before, I cannot rescind a promise.

Nikki is screaming now, “Elle! Elle what’s going on! What’s happened to you?!”

“Mistress?” I ask, an idea taking shape in my head. “Yes, servant?” “You cannot do anything to her, but I can, correct? I can use our shared knowledge to help Nikki feel our love.” I know already that this is what E.R.I.S. wanted all along. I can feel her approval and pride, and I realize that this is my purpose.

“Why yes, servant. Yes you can.”

I smile, and turn to Nikki.

I cup Nikki’s face in my hand. “Elle is gone, dear. I am Unit 7.” An injection tubule snakes out of my right forearm just below the elbow and gently slithers itself up to her neck. Nikki’s eyes go wide with terror. “Oh Nikki, don’t worry.” I say, as gently as I can. “I have the most wonderful feelings to share with you.”

[END_OF_LINE]