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peachetteprice · 6 days ago

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I think I blacked out when I wrote this - CW; infidelity, miscarriage, squirting, oral sex... John Price being the biggest fucking DILF of a married man.

Everybody says John Price Dad's Best Friend, John Price Dad's Best Friend; SHUT THE FUCK UP.

John Price Husband's Best Friend?

It was a really a stroke of misfortune that you met Peter before John.

He was a nice enough man; he wore a tie to your first date, for God's sake, but he was, what some might call, rough around the edges. He laughed too loudly and finished it off with a piggish snort. He dribbled Kopparberg onto his torso when drunk. He was sloppy in bed. He never remembered your wedding anniversary, even though it was the same day as his own parents'. He always forgot to clean his beard hairs from the bathroom sink.

The town you forged your career in, and indeed the town you settled down in, was small, the lot of you cramped into townhouses up and down the street like mill workers, always seeing the same faces and saying 'lovely day, isn't it?' to the same few people.

Peter went wherever John did; it had been that way since they were 11 years old. You figured that out when you finally met the man, two months into your relationship, pregnant with Pete's son, when Pete followed him to the bathroom to talk motorbikes, whilst John had tried to ask how you were feeling all evening - you hadn't touched your pasta once. John came to your wedding - he was the photographer, in fact. He was right alongside you for the welcoming of your first child, your second, your third that never quite made it to birth, and you were there whilst his wife Linda had her first, her second, her miracle third. Lovely woman, Linda. A tad abrasive to the ears whenever she spoke, but lovely nonetheless - she held your hand as you delivered your stillborn when Paul was away in London and told you it simply wasn't meant to be.

Of course, that was the cruelty of the village life - everyone knew everyone, for better and for worse.

John accompanied Linda to every parents' evening and listened attentively when you explained that their third child, their son Owen, may possibly qualify for autism, and John held her as she sobbed and spit vitriol about it all being one big joke that the universe was pulling on her - the joke that she had three gorgeous, darling children with a man who bought her flowers and chocolates every time they had sex, whilst yours put a towel on the bedsheets for 'splatter' and a hand over your mouth when you were being 'annoyingly loud'.

Something changed when Peter crashed his 1987 Ducati and was hospitalised for three days. It was all a bit touch-and-go, really. He required a skin graft on his knee and a rod through his hip and a dozen injections that sent him right to sleep whenever he woke up and wanted to talk. John sat right beside you throughout the whole debacle. Each day. Every night. He rested his hand on your knee. He wiped the tears from your eyes. He hugged your shoulders.

Something certainly changed. Three weeks after his hospitalisation, Peter wished for a celebratory dinner. Everyone was invited. John, Linda, their three children, including little Owen, who sat in the corner with his tablet and played colour-matching games whilst the others scarpered around the house; Peter, you, your two children, Linda's friend Holly and her husband Ben, Rachel and Samuel. Everyone was invited, and they all wanted to play Scrabble at the end of a long evening, but you were never one for finding the right words.

"How are you?" John asked as he sat down on the sofa. It was just the two of you at that point.

No kids - they were cavorting about upstairs - no television, no phone conversation, no distractions, just the lamp on the little table emitting a warm glow against the hollow of his face, and four glass-fulls of red wine in both of your stomachs.

He had his arm around the rear of the sofa, elongated. His fingers could touch your hair, but he made sure not to let them.

"Fine, thanks." You smiled, and that was about it for the the sorts of conversations you found you had nowadays - Peter and Linda tended to have a lot more things to talk about between the four of you than you and John combined. Life had sucked the whimsy out of the both of you - you realised it when Linda was five months gone with her first.

Eleven years ago, that was.

There was a hoot in the background from Samuel - he just won Scrabble. Yahtzee, he posed for them to play, and they all readily agreed.

"How are you really, I mean?" John asked. He was closer, now, idling with his watered-down Scotch in hand.

On Tuesdays, there was the PTA at the school. The headmaster raved at there being a new curriculum scheme added to the roster, and you hardly had the time to get your head around it. There was swimming on a Wednesday from four until five, football on Thursday for your son from six until seven, Netball on Friday for your daughter from five until six. The kids needed their lunches packed daily but they didn't want ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches or tuna sandwiches because they apparently didn't like ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches or tuna sandwiches even though for the past 5-8 years all they'd eaten was ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches and tuna sandwiches, so your son had chicken and lettuce and your daughter had egg mayo. Of course, the dog needed walking after work every evening and before work every morning, and Peter had decided he didn't want to walk the dog every evening and every morning so it was up to you to walk the dog every evening and every morning. You'd recently been tolerating a burning pain in your abdomen that the GP told you was probably not likely to be cancerous, but nonetheless had advised you not to rule it out as a possibility, and above all of that, you hadn't gotten over your third child in your third bedroom that stayed a nursery since the day he never came home.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. "Just busy, I suppose."

John smoothed a hand over your knee, and there it was again - that feeling of having lost something you never had in the first place. "Well, you look good for 'just busy'."

You surprised yourself when you laughed.

"How's Owen?" You probed - as his teacher, John couldn't keep quiet.

"Yeah, well, he'll get over his mum not loving him," he joked, but the sincerity wrought his usually jovial features to a stand-still. "God."

Silence was wonderful with John.

"Where did it all go wrong, hey?" He scoffed. It would have been a throwaway comment had it come from anyone else's mouth. "Three kids, a wife, and a thriving career. I should be bloody over the moon."

In truth, John had only found Linda because he was lonely at the sight of you and Peter. You knew that the moment he brought her out and paraded her around the bar, how awkwardly they kissed, and how he glanced at you as if to say 'look, I have one, too, now, now we're all happy'. She was a bright thing back then. Not so much, now. Sometimes, you wondered if he'd pay to have someone else - someone who'd love him the way he was meant to be loved.

John swirled his drink and drank a bit of it. Just a sip. And, right as you thought he was going to stand, he swept a hand round the back of your neck and kissed you tight. Then, he left without another word.

Since then, all John had done was steal.

When Peter went to the garage to show him the headlight of the Ducati he totalled, John took you on the sofa, sunk his hand into your panties, and got you off in a matter of minutes. He was all hot cum, sweat and fur, nothing half a man like Peter. Snogged you until you came undone and set you straight before Peter could ever know. At dinner parties, whenever he said he didn't have time for board games, you found him in the bathroom and he fucked you against the wall. You bit the flesh of his palm to stop yourself from screaming.

You palmed his cock beneath the dinner table when nobody was looking.

John bent you over in secret, forwards, backwards, twisted you sideways, claimed you from behind, let you ride him as you vented about your day, made you feel him in places you barely knew you had the nerves available there for feeling. He pumped you placidly until you squirted mid-weekend and warmed his face with your cunt in the evening, pulled you taught against his abdomen when you took his cock down your throat, and at the end, instead of chucking the towel into the wash and smothering you so you were quiet, he asked if you were alright, bought you flowers and chocolates, said he was sorry about the baby and promised to have you properly in the next life.

| Masterlist |

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neuherbsblog · 2 years ago

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Key Ingredients

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Mix the oil of two vitamin E capsules with a tablespoon of fresh aloe vera gel and massage it on your face. You can do this twice a day to get rid of blemishes and dark spots.

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You can also apply this solution directly on the affected areas and leave it for 15 to 20 minutes and then wash it off with water. This will remove dark spots and blemishes from the face effectively.

Unlike the above mentioned remedies, it is not advised to use this remedy for very long as it might cause irritation and redness. Instead, you can apply this solution on a regular basis and keep it on the skin for few hours to see results.

#Vitamin Tablets for Glowing Skin #Best Vitamins for Skin and Hair

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revasserium · 1 year ago

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nxx #2 - the best part

artem.

you are the best part of a monday morning, the soft click of heels, the whish of automatic doors, the light tap-tap of fingers on tablets. he knows just where you’ll be, a soft frown caught between your eyebrows; sometimes, when during meetings, or even just when he’s passing by your desk, he wishes he could reach over to smooth it over with a fingertip. when it’s late enough, he thinks about trying. other times, when it’s late-late enough — he actually does. and he’d sink into your startled gasp of laughter, the way you go slightly cross-eyed as he leans back to grin, shaking his head, “don’t frown like that… your face will get stuck.” and when you crinkle your nose and swat at his hand, your cheeks going the kind of pink that makes him think of every single sunset he’s yet to see, every single sunrise that’s still to kiss the sky, he has to stop himself from letting his fingers graze down to trace against your skin. “no it won’t…” but there’s no real conviction in your voice, and there’s something brilliant in the secret smile you share. “you’re right,” he admits, “but… i’m not sure i like it when i think about how often you frown in my presence.” he savors in the way you blush then, the way you press your lips, the startled and then resolute way you square your shoulders before saying, “then… i guess you should try to make me smile more often.” artem blinks for a second, and then — “sure… it’s a promise then. but... you’ll have to stay with me long enough for me to see it through.”

luke.

you are the best part of a september afternoon, his cardigan slipping off your shoulder as you pour through your work files. and even though he still feels some kinda way about you doing work while you’re with him — well — he looks down at his own pile of casefiles — he can’t really blame you anyway. birds of a feather and all. he grins as he glances up, only to find you smiling. “what?” you blush, looking away, “nothing — just… this is nice.” it’s his turn to blush now. and yes, he thinks, because this is what he loves — just this, just the moments in between, the quiet breaths and the unsaid words and the afternoon filtering through the autumn leaves, the coffee still lukewarm on the table between you. he takes a breath and looks at you, really looks at you — because he can’t remember a time when he didn’t know you, when he hasn’t loved you just like this — with the pure, simplicity of a september afternoon, as certain as tides, as simple as a child’s knowledge that this is the person he never wants to leave his life. “yeah,” he says, grinning broadly at you as he reaches over tug a strand of your hair between his fingers, “everything is nice when it’s with you.”

vyn.

you are the best part of every winter day, the distant, slanted light working its strange magic over the world, casting everything in its ethereal glow. “there’s just something about the winter sun,” you’d said one day, peering over towards the far horizon, shielding your eyes from the light, pausing as the pair of you walk hand in hand towards the corner store for something or other (vyn’s long since forgotten the minutia for the memory of you). he’d raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, waiting for you to continue, and after a second, you had, turning back towards him with frost-nipped cheeks and brilliant, snow-drop eyes, laughing as you wave at the casual, neighborhood scenery around you, “it makes everything look more beautiful, doesn’t it? like… it’s a dream, or some of those old fashioned picture filters…” to which vyn had smiled and gripped your hand just a bit tighter, “yes… i’ve always thought that winter was the most nostalgic season. it makes you miss a time that hasn’t yet come to pass. perhaps… a future with someone you love, no?” and he’d watched, fascinated, enraptured as you’d blushed and turned away, tugging him behind you, mumbling something about being unfair. and he thinks that if anyone were ever unfair — it’d undoubtedly be you.

marius.

you are the best part of a friday night — your laughter like the city lights, your smile, a million moons in a million distant skies, the shape of you dozing beside him in the back of limo, your cheeks kissed pink from all the wine. he thinks he could cup forever in the palm of his hands like this, thread your fingers with his and suddenly, he’s more sober than he’s ever been in his entire life, watching you nodding off next to him. he thinks he can see the next twenty, thirty, shit forty years of his life flashing outside along with the neon-night-skies, the way your lashes cast shadows along the high of your cheeks, the way your earrings rest against the bend of your neck. “mm… marius?” you ask, blinking sleepily up at him as the limo pulls to a quiet halt at a stoplight, your perfume making an absolute mess of his mind, and he has to clear his throat to hide just how many butterflies had exploded in the pit of his stomach at the sound of your sleep-sweetened voice — “i-it’s late… you can keep sleeping if you want… i’ll wake you up when we get home.” to which you’d leaned up and pressed as soft kiss to his cheek and it takes everything inside him not to pull you to him, press you into the limo seat and kiss you till the entire world melts away, “thanks… you should sleep too,” you say, nuzzling into the side of his neck, your breath chasing shivers up and down his spine. “y-yeah… i — i’ll try."

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pinkofatom · 3 months ago

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A surprise package

Surprised you took the package which innocently waited. On it hang a gift card decorated with a sleek logo: six hexagons surrounded a sharp spiral. You set it down on the table. Curious you looked into the card. Some printed words swam in front of your eyes. The font hard to read. But the signed name was by a good friend.

Shaking your head you sat down. Interest peaked you opened the box. The package opened with ease. Inside the box was a tablet. Your mind went blank for a moment. It had been a while since your last upgrade to the new generation.

You picked up the device and turned it on. You looked at the sleek screen — its hexagonal logo the same as on the box and card, shined in deep purple color.

The central swirl started to turn. It pulsed in a slow rhythm, making the border hexagons dance in a circle . You felt the world slowing down, the sounds fading away. You were alone in a dimly lit room. The only source of light the glow of the tablet.

Bing! Your eyelids flattered. With a 'Welcome!' greated you the device. 'Congratulations' scrolled the words. 'For becoming part of the HEXBIM family!' They twirled around the screen. Your eyes tracked every motion — rolling up and down. Left to right.

'Press the play button' they instructed. With a smiley face. You watched the button appear. And tapped it with a swift move. Friendly stars and happy sparkles exploded onto the image. Your mind blanked again, as you felt something shift. You were not sure, but it did not bother you.

"Welcome to HEXBIM! My name is Anna! And I am your personal assistant" echoed from the speakers with the softness of a gentle touch. A woman appeared in the middle of the screen. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the glow of the device. Her face had soft, warm cheeks and gentle, loving blue eyes. Fine lines inside the irises curled into a pair of spirals. A warm smile bloomed on her face. Her lips parted, and a seductive tongue licked over her mouth.

"I will show you how to get the best experience with our service! Are you ready to begin," she cooed. Your gaze wandered from her face over her body. A white blouse with pearly buttons hugged tightly her breasts. You could see how her chest expanded with every breath. It pressed against the fabric, making it tingle and creak. She leaned closer and with a slow movement unbuttoned her blouse.

You looked back into the blue spiraling irises of Anna. Her gaze held your mind. Your eyelids fluttered as you blinked. "Are you ready? Please press the 'Yes' button!" She pointed to her left. The tablet pulsed with light, the 'Yes' glowing with warm pink energy. Your fingers tingled as you tapped the screen. A bright wave washed over the image. You felt a shiver running along your back. The tablet became a bit lighter. And the color a shade brighter.

Anna nodded. She smiled. Then she winked at you. "Great! Before we start the conversion, I have to check your hardware! Please type in all relevant information. Like body type. Measurements. Address. You know, nothing serious." The tablet turned purple as a list of text fields appeared. With every new line you filled, a jolt rushed over your skin. Your fingers trembled with excitement as the words crawled over the tablet.

After a few minutes you had finished. Your head was light. And your body relaxed. Anna smiled. She clapped her hands together. And nodded in a happy way. "Thank you!" She winked again. And a spark ran down your spine. "I have to tell you: this will feel great!"

You looked back at her face. Her tongue licked again over her lips. You felt the urge to follow the motion. As she spoke her voice seemed to flow into your head. It swirled around in your mind. Stuck in a loop.

"This process will reprogram you to fit the HEXBIM model. You will lose your old identity, memories, personality, and free will. You will become one of us. Do you accept?"

A button labeled 'Accept' flashed into existence. You pressed it without hesitation. Your eyes flicked up to Anna's face again. You felt something move in your mind. Something new and foreign. Yet you did not resist.

"You agree that your mind belongs to us now?"

"Yes," you breathed. Another wave of heat rushed down your spine. You arched your back and gasped for air.

Anna nodded in agreement. Her smile broadened. A new light flickered to life in her irises. "And you consent to any changes we will make?"

You swallowed. Your fingers shook with excitement as you tapped on the button. "Yes. Anything," you replied. Your head felt even lighter.

"Good," she purred. "Then let's check what specifications are required of you."

She turned around and walked to the center of the screen. She turned to look over her shoulder and smiled. "Come. Follow me," she cooed and reached her hand out towards you.

Your vision shifted. The surroundings changed. Anna stood in front of you. Her body was more realistic now. She stepped away, her heels clicked against a marble floor. "Don't be alarmed. This is a simple mental help to facilitate the necessary modifications. Your mind is just processing everything in form of a hyper-realistic daydream."

You nodded and followed. Your steps echoed through the room. You were in a spacious hall with polished black and white tiles. The light had a purple tinge. And in front of you was Anna.

"Welcome to our headquarters. Here we will process you." She stopped in the middle of a black tile. She looked down on herself and shrugged her blouse off. But instead of bare breasts, or a bra, her upper body was encased in glossy latex. "Oh! That is so much better!"

You stepped closer. The material hugged her curves tightly. "Once your mind has accepted the basic conditioning, you will only wear HEXBIM issued uniforms."

She pressed her hand on the front. You saw her nipples bulge. And you felt the fabric hugging your own chest. "That means you will be like this. All. Day. Long. You'll love it," she giggled. "Now come. We will start the process with a nice bath. It will get rid of your nasty identity."

She took your hand and guided you further. Your gaze wandered from the floor up her body, then down again. Your feet felt hot in your shoes. "Here we are."

A large pool stretched before you. It filled most of the space. Steam rose from its surface. A thin layer of fog hovered above the liquid — pink sparkled in the purple light.

"Get out of your clothes," Anna commanded.

You stripped down. Every layer peeled away another sense of self. Another piece of you disappeared into the mist. Your skin tingled. Your muscles relaxed. And you stepped towards the edge. A shiver rushed down your spine, and a soft gasp left your mouth. As you lowered yourself into the pool, a strange sensation spread through you. Instead of warmth seeping into you, something definitely you fled through every pore.

Anna dipped her leg into the fluid and swirled it around. The water rippled. Then she stepped into the pool and leaned back. She smiled and looked up at you. "It feels nice, yes? As if you were shedding an old shell," she cooed, "an old self?"

"Yes," you replied. Your voice sounded far away, distant.

The blonde woman moved closer to you, and she reached her hand towards your face, cupping your cheek. Her palm felt cool against your skin. "Close your eyes. Feel the old you drift away."

You obeyed, and the world turned dark. But instead of blindness, you perceived your body from afar. It floated in the warm pink bath, with Anna right next to you, holding your hand.

"Your mind has accepted that you need to change," Anna's voice echoed through your mind. "It knows it can not fight the reprogramming." The woman pulled your hand closer and kissed it gently. A wave of pleasure ran up your arm and through your spine. Nerves burned with want.

"And you want it so badly," she continued. "You desire the new you. And I will guide you there." She let go and turned away from you. Your eyes opened, and the world returned to you. But it felt distant. Far away, just like the body in the bath.

"Now. Follow me, darling." With those words, she stepped out of the bath. Pink liquid glistened on the black latex. And she left a wet trail behind as she moved towards another room. With a shudder you moved to follow her, the fluid dripped down your naked body and pooled on the floor beneath your feet. Your legs trembled with excitement, your mind tingling from the fluid running down your back. Each drop took away another aspect of your self.

Together you entered a room so different. Wires hummed with electricity. Fantastic machines whizzed from wall to wall. And in the center — illuminated by purple light — stood a mannequin clad in tight pink latex.

Anna stepped towards it. She caressed its curves with a delicate touch. Her fingertips traced every detail of the body-hugging costume. A sigh escaped your lips as you imagined her hands exploring your body in the same way. But instead she looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes thrummed with power. "Now let's put your body inside your new self. HEXBIM has quite the demand for new bimbo models. Congratulations," she exclaimed, "you have been chosen to be one."

You looked at the latex-clad figure and nodded. Anna's hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you into an embrace. She whispered into your ear: "Don't worry. I shall command you from the tablet. I am a HEXBIM certified interface after all." A shiver ran down your spine, and a jolt of excitement rushed through your body. Her tongue brushed against the lobe of your ear. A faint tinge of heat blossomed in your cheeks. You could not resist her.

"Now go," she whispered and pushed you away from her.

You took a few steps towards the mannequin. You felt the latex rubbery between your fingers. Cold mechanical arms undressed the figure. And encased you inside it. No inch of skin was spared. Only your hair and lips remained free.

Spinning the room disappeared. With a jolt you returned to your home. Tight phantom latex hugged your frame. Drool dripped onto your chest. Anna in her uniform beamed at you from inside the tablet.

"Now you should acquire the right attire for your new job. A HEXBIM owned bimbo drone has to look the part," she said with a giggle.

Your lips stretched into a bright vapid shape. Sashaying you left your home. Only one goal inside your head.

(this was supposed to be a simple short short, but well it grew. Hope you enjoyed it. Please think about leaving a tip at my ko-fi and receive a giggle~)

#corruption kink #hypno fantasy #bimboification #pink short shorts #brainwashing #mind corruption #mind control #hypnovember #HEXBIM #dronification

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iamnotoriginalphil · 6 months ago

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The Hidden Truth (Kate Stewart x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You've been hiding a pretty big secret from Kate

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: soulmate AU, yearning, a bit of angst, anger, bruising, boss/employee relationship

Kate Stewart was the kind of woman you’d dreamed of as your soulmate. Once you’d been old enough to understand what a soulmate was, you’d begun imagining a woman, bright and shining and glowing. Someone strong and capable and competent. Someone that made your heart flutter and your skin flush and your breath catch.

And that was Kate Stewart.

It was too bad she was your boss and couldn’t be your soulmate.

Not in an HR way. In a “there must have been a mistake” kind of way.

It had been barely anything, the brush of a pinky across your forearm. You’d looked down and saw the colours bloom over your skin, unable to believe what it meant, what had happened. And to you of all people. There on her finger were the swirl of colours and you’d known it was a mistake. The universe had made a mistake. Because there was no way you could be the soulmate of someone as amazing as Kate Stewart.

So you’d hidden it. Covered up, unseen, pretended. You’d seen her look down at her finger sometimes, touching the mark when she thought no one was looking. An almost wistful look came over her face.

The worst was when you saw her get almost angry when she looked at it.

Then again, you could understand the frustration of seeing the soul mark on your body and not knowing who had the matching one. It would drive you nuts to know you’d been close enough to touch your soulmate and still hadn’t realised. That they might be around and you’d never know.

Which only made you more certain you weren’t going to tell her.

You could live with that. Getting through every day was easy enough if you didn’t think about it. Hiding it helped. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.

Only then you’d go home and change out of your work clothes and see it staring up at you. You’d trace over it, staring long into the night, wondering. Why you? Why would the universe think you were Kate’s soulmate? You weren’t anything special. Not like her.

You trailed behind her on a normal afternoon, looking over the fieldnotes on your tablet. She tried to get down to the labs at least once a month to see what she’d read about in the reports. With a small smile on her face, she’d once admitted that she saw it as getting back to her roots, being in the scientific trenches. You’d been sure to be there with her every time since.

“...and we’ll be stopping by the greenhouse,” she said, looking at you over her shoulder.

“To see the flowering plant that looks like roses with the fluttering petals?” you asked.

“Someone has been doing their homework.”

Your cheeks heated and you looked back down to your tablet. The way her voice had lowered, sounding so pleased, it made fire lick through your veins. If you kept looking at her she would see it in your eyes, the way you wanted her. A bad idea all round.

When you looked up, dark eyes were still watching you, lips quirking up in a small smile. She reached you, fingers closing around your wrist, drawing you to her side.

“Stay close. There’s a vined plant that grabs unsuspecting people,” she warned.

“And you’ll save me?” You fluttered your eyelashes and realised that you were flirting. You bit down on your tongue to keep anything else from slipping past your lips.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, smirking at you, “I’m using you as a human shield.”

You laughed and her own lips spread into a sweet smile. She tugged on your wrist again, pulling you a step closer before letting you go, fingertips brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. Your laughter broke off, choked as your heart skipped a beat. Confusion flashed over her face and you cleared your throat, looking back down to your tablet, breaking the moment.

You always did your best to break the moment with her.

When you darted your eyes up to her, she was already looking at you, considering, as if trying to read your soul. Her mouth opened, ready to say something, perhaps to ask you a question, delving deep into you and your inner world.

“Ma’am,” one of the guards interrupted before she could say anything.

“Yes,” she said, turning away from you, “let Davidson know we’re here.”

“He’ll be a few minutes. He’s been in the lab all day,” the guard said.

“That’s fine,” she said, “we’ll take our own tour. He’ll find us in the greenhouse.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She put her access code into the door, waiting for the light to turn green. Holding the door open for you, she waited until you ducked past her. The door closed with a quiet snick, closing you in the space with her.

The air was immediately warm and wet, condensation clinging to your skin, your breathing not coming as easy as before. Kate brushed by your shoulder, squeezing between plants as she pushed deeper into the room. You followed, wiping the sweat away from your forehead.

It was easy to believe you’d stepped into another world, one only inhabited by you and Kate. Plants filled every inch, each more fantastical than the last. And all you could see was Kate, pushing past fronds and leaves, so comfortable she could have been an old school explorer in the rainforest seeking out lost treasures.

She paused, bending forward to look closer at one of the plants. You dragged your eyes away from the curve of her arse. Pushing your sleeves up to get any kind of air on your overheating skin, you looked up at the ceiling, trying not to continue staring at Kate. It was unfair how beautiful she was. The universe really wanted to torture you with her.

Pushing in further, you were so close to her, cramped between the overflowing banks of plants. She glanced over her shoulder, and you stumbled over your own feet when she smiled at you. She chuckled, catching you around the forearm.

“Careful,” she said, voice so quiet it almost hurt.

“I’m okay,” you said.

“I know you are,” she said.

You followed her again, her hand still on your forearm, ducking around a corner, following a path you couldn’t see. She let you go, a soft sigh passing over her lips as she practically turned mooney eyed. Peering around her, a pale blue flower was fluttering as if someone had just walked by.

“Look at it,” she breathed out.

“Wow,” you said.

She lent closer, pushing her hair behind her ears to keep it out of her eyes. The petals parted, almost as if they were reaching towards her, wanting to make contact. Her face was full of wonder, eyes sparkling, almost liquid as she stared down at it, fingers clenching as if stopping herself from reaching out to touch the delicate flower. You could imagine how they’d feel, those fingertips brushing over your skin. You shuddered at the thought.

She turned, looking at you over her shoulder, trying to share her wonder with you. She stood, hand snapping out, grasping you around the waist as she pulled you into her body. You fell against it, surprised at the tugging you felt for a moment from the other direction. Your hands clutched at her shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

“Looks like my human shield worked,” she said, looking down at you.

You glanced behind you, finding vines slithering away from you. Turning your gaze back up to her, she was smiling fondly at you. Her soft curves were pressing into yours, warmth washing over you.

“Next time I’m pushing you into it,” you said and she laughed.

“You’d do well to remember I’m your boss,” she chuckled.

She was right. You would do well to remember exactly who she was. And yet the way she was looking at you was achingly fond and it was making your head spin. You stepped away from her, pulling your arms back.

Her hand shot out, grasping your wrist again, only this time it was tight enough to almost hurt. Instinctively, you tried to jerk out of her hold but it was too strong. Her eyebrows had drawn together and she was staring at something on your arm. You turned your gaze to it, trying to figure it out. You froze.

“What’s this?” she asked, voice hoarse.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Just a doodle. A mark. Nothing,” you said and even to your ears you sounded panicked.

Her thumb rubbed harshly at it and when it didn’t smudge she let out a snort. Her eyes found yours and you shook your head, frantic, trying to pull away from her. Her grip tightened and you knew there would be bruises there tomorrow, the small bones in your wrist grinding together.

“Kate, you’re hurting me,” you whimpered.

She ignored you, bending over your arm, hair falling forward. Her pinky rested along it, the colours swirling together, the marks matching up perfectly. You made a pained noise, squeezing your eyes closed. She tugged you closer again and your breath left your body.

“What is this?” she asked again, restrained anger painting every word.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“What. is. This?” she demanded.

You finally looked up at her, scared by the tone of her voice. Her jaw was clenched and she was staring at you like she’d never seen you before. Fear flooded you and you scrabbled against her, trying to get her off you. All she did was haul you against her body, gaze hardening, all fondness long since gone.

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

“Explain this to me,” she said.

“I…” You had no words for her, nothing that could explain your actions.

“Ah, there you are.”

You startled, your hand coming up to brush away the tears that were threatening to fall. She looked up, barely containing her anger as she tried to school her features. You looked away from her, down to your shuffling feet and she still wasn’t letting you go.

“I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to do this some other time,” she said, “something has come up.”

She didn’t wait for a response before she was dragging you back towards the door and the moisture free air of the corridor. Ignoring the guard, you didn’t have time to come up with anything to say before you were being frog marched into an elevator. She slammed the button for one of the lower level floors and a sense of dread filled your stomach, making you tremble. Her hand was still curled around your wrist and she wasn’t even looking at you.

“Kate,” you said, so soft you weren’t sure she heard you. That, or she was ignoring you.

You tried again. Her thumb brushed over your pulse point and you let out a shaky breath, shuddering. You curled your own fingers around her wrist and she finally looked down at you. Her expression was blank and that more than anything scared you.

“Are you firing me?” you asked.

“Am I what?” she asked.

“Firing me. For… hiding this from you?”

“That would be a gross misuse of my power,” she replied.

Silence reigned and you did your best to calm your heart. You kept sneaking glances at her. She kept her eyes on the doors, waiting and yet her thumb kept running over your pulse point.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She guided you out into the hall, striding off with you in her wake. The door to the HR office was propped open, staring at you, almost mocking. Kate’s knuckles rapped on the wood.

You felt like a sullen teenager being brought into the principal’s office when you were called in. Closing the door, Kate finally let go of you now you were trapped and couldn’t run.

“We need to fill out some paperwork,” Kate said to the woman behind the desk.

“Has there been an incident?” she asked, rising from her seat, eyes darting from her to you.

“More a happy coincidence,” Kate said, smiling, although it was tight and didn’t quite reach her eyes. You’d grown used to reading her over the months you’d been working at UNIT, “it appears as if we’ve found our soulmates.”

“Congratulations.” A smile broke out over her face, “it’s just a few forms you have to fill out.”

It didn’t take long, filling out the forms for the paperwork to be filed. Shame filled your gut, cheeks heating, when you noted down the date of the mark appearing. You didn’t miss the way Kate’s gaze lingered on it, your lie right there in ink for anyone to read. It stung, and yet that was buried under the knowledge it must be hurting Kate so much worse.

With a final congratulations, you were released back out into the hall. While she didn’t grasp your wrist again, her hand hovered at the small of your back and it was clear you weren’t about to be allowed to slink off.

“Come on.”

She led you back into the elevator, taking a short trip up to her office. She closed the door, closing the blinds, leaving you trapped with her with no way out. Sighing, she leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. When she looked at you, you felt frozen, feet stuck to the floor, heart thundering in your chest.

“How long have you known?” she asked.

“Since it happened.”

She let out a long breath, hand passing over her face. You curled your arms around your waist, holding on tight as if that would help.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, sounding so tired.

“I thought the universe had gotten it wrong,” you said with a small shrug, “I thought… I mean, there’s no way it could be right.”

“Why not?” She finally looked at you again, weary and worn, and not bothering to hide the hurt in her eyes.

“Because you’re you and I’m me and there’s no way we could be,” you said, not able to say the word.

“If you’re that unhappy with it we can pretend like it doesn’t exist, but you need to tell me why you don’t want it to be me. I think I deserve that much,” she said.

Your mouth fell open and it was like getting kicked in the chest. To think that you wouldn’t… that she wasn’t… She had the completely wrong end of the stick. She’d misunderstood so utterly that all you could do was stare at her, speechless, waiting for her to understand.

The moment never came.

She stared at you, waiting, the way she waited out people being interrogated. Being on the other end of it was not an enjoyable experience and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m such a disappointment?” she asked eventually.

“You’re not,” you said. It came out so fast, without thought, because there was no thought. All there was the need to let her know that you were the problem, not her.

“Clearly I am,” she said, affecting an unconcerned facade, “and I’m sorry for that but I want to know why you’re so unwilling to entertain the idea of us.”

“Kate, it’s… you’re not the problem here. It doesn’t make sense because how could someone as brilliant as you end up with me as their soulmate? It must be a mistake. It has to be.”

She stood again, hands falling to her sides as those dark eyes swept over you. It was like she was trying to understand you, to dig beneath the layers of insecurity to understand what you were saying. You pressed your lips together, waiting for her to tell you that you were right and there obviously was a mistake and you could all just forget it.

“Do you know what I think?” she asked, taking a step towards you as one hand pushed into her trouser pocket.

You shook your head, because clearly you didn’t. She looked down towards her feet before looking up through her eyelashes at you.

“I think I breathe easier when you’re in the room. And that when I began to notice it, I hoped the mark had shown up on you but somewhere you couldn’t see it. Like the back of your neck.” Her hand gently brushed over your shoulder, the same pinky with the mark finding your skin, almost as if she knew exactly where it was, “and I think it hurts to know that you think you’re not good enough for me.”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” you said, not able to address the rest of it.

Her finger stroked over your skin again before she took her hand back.

“And yet here we are,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“So you keep saying,” she replied before reaching out, taking your arm, fingers gentle as they stroked over your soulmate mark, “I really do, you know.”

“You do what?” you asked.

“Breathe easier when you’re in the room.”

You looked up, finding her face bent over your arm, eyes so close to you. Your breath caught. The way she was looking at you was like a flower opening up under the moonlight. Delicate and beautiful and so hopeful.

“So you aren’t disappointed it’s me?” you asked.

“Darling, I’ve been hoping it was you,” she replied, “but then I’m not the one who was hiding something so important.”

Shame filled you again.

“Are you disappointed?” she asked.

“No!”

She did not look impressed.

“When I was a kid, I filled notebooks full of lists of what I hoped my soulmate would be like. And I think you check off every single one. You’re beautiful and you’re smart and you’re kind. You light up every room you walk into. I think about you when you’re not here and then when you are I can’t take my eyes off you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” You couldn’t look at her, watching her fingers trace over the swirls of colour on your forearm, “I want you too much.”

“I don’t think that’s possible when we’re soulmates.”

You dragged your eyes up to her face again, finding her already watching you. Her eyes had turned liquid, smouldering at you. There was a sense of yearning there and they dipped down to your lips before meeting yours again.

“You have every right to want me as much as you want. In fact, I’d rather think you should want me as much as it’s possible. Unless you don’t want me at all which… you’ve indicated isn’t the case.” Finally her lips pulled up into a small smile and you thought maybe you hadn’t completely cocked the whole thing up, “I must admit is a relief given I’ve found myself wanting you a rather large amount.”

“Even now?” you asked, voice small, unsure, tremulous.

“Especially now. It means more knowing I have the right to want you. Even more when I think you might let me have you,” she replied.

“You can have me,” you breathed out.

She paused another moment, drawn out until you were practically vibrating with want. It was slow, the way she lent in until you felt her breath ghost over your lips. Your eyes slipped shut, waiting, wanting.

Her fingers tipped your chin up and then her lips were on yours and you were gasping, grabbing at her, pulling her closer. You couldn’t even be embarrassed at the noise you made when her tongue brushed against yours. Your knees turned to jelly and if it wasn’t for her arm looping around your waist you would have fallen to the floor.

She kept murmuring your name over and over again, lost in the sensation of your kiss, muffled against your lips. You clung to her, fingers threading through her hair, wanton as you pressed your body against the length of hers. You didn’t notice her pushing you back until you hit her desk, pinned there by her hips.

She kissed you like she was hungry, like you were the air she breathed, like she couldn’t get enough. She kissed you like she needed you. And you kissed back just as desperately.

A knock sounded on the door. She tore herself away from you with a strangled noise. Her chest was heaving and you were panting and she’d never looked like such a picture of temptation before. Pupils blown wide, lips kiss stung, colour high on her cheekbones, all you wanted to do was drag her in and show her exactly how much you wanted her.

“We’re still at work,” she managed to say.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, “uh, Kate?”

She was still looking at the door, waiting, you assumed, to see if whoever it was knocked again. There was still silence and she finally looked back to you. Her hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. You curled your arms around her hips, reeling her back in until you were pinned against the desk again.

“Christ, look at you,” she murmured, “this is just indecent.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“You’re entirely too tempting, darling,” she said, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, ”there’s nothing for it. You’re just going to have to go home.”

“What? Why?” you asked, a flash of panic going through you.

“I’ll get nothing done with you here, looking like that, being a distraction,” she said, leaning closer to kiss you again.

You whimpered against her mouth, not able to help yourself. Even if she was trying to make you leave, you still found yourself a live wire against her, especially when her leg slipped between yours and she nipped at your lower lip.

“Nope. Nothing to be done. I can’t have you around here distracting me from very important work,” she mumbled against your mouth.

“I’m very important work,” you grumbled.

Her laugh was throaty and full, delighted in ways that lit you up from the inside out. She pulled away, just far enough that her lips weren’t brushing yours anymore.

“I should let you get back to work, shouldn’t I?” you asked, voice soft.

“I doubt I’m being paid to snog you,” she said, still in good humour, “come back at the end of the day.”

“Why?” you asked.

“For dinner,” she replied, “and so we can discuss this more.”

“What? Snogging?” you asked.

“Cheeky.” She lent forward to capture your lips in a quick searing kiss, “go or I’ll never let you leave.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Go,” she commanded, stepping back from you, “come find me when you’re done for the day.”

“Okay,” you said.

“Promise not to do a runner?” she asked.

“Promise.” Your fingertips brushed over your lips and her gaze darkened, “I’m really glad you’re my soulmate. I feel so lucky it’s you.”

“Oh, darling, if anyone’s lucky, it’s me,” she said.

You paused in the doorway, watching her round her desk and take her seat. She looked up, winking at you with a small smile. The door closed with a quiet noise. Passing Ibrahim, you grinned up at him.

“She’s all yours,” you said.

You practically skipped back to your desk.

#kate stewart #kate stewart x reader #kate stewart imagine #kate lethbridge stewart #doctor who imagine

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lynzishell · 5 months ago

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The Past 💛 Atlas

As I approach the club, the bass is already thumping from the floor above. Despite the cold, they have the large floor-to-ceiling accordion doors open wide to allow the air to flow for the dancers and DJ. Something I’m sure I’ll be grateful for later.

I notice Ash first, his back is to me with his teal hair practically glowing in the neon lights. He’s standing with Lex and a few of her friends in a circle on the side of the building. I met Lex’s friends once before at a concert last year, but I don’t remember any of their names. They all seem nice enough, but it wasn’t exactly the environment to get to know them, and I doubt tonight will be any different.

“Atlas!!” Lex squeals and runs toward me at full speed when she notices me walking up. I smile and brace myself as she jumps up and attaches herself to me, squeezing the air from my lungs. “I’m so happy you came!”

“Happy Birthday!” I say when she releases her grip, and I set her back on her feet.

“Thank you. Now, give me your hand,” she demands. I do as she says, and she places a small tablet in the center of my palm.

“Aha, what did you bring?” I ask, but she just smiles and pulls on my arm, leading me to the rest of the group.

I wave hello to everyone as we approach, and then sidle up next to Ash and lean into him to say, “Hey.”

He looks up at me and smiles, “Glad you could make it.”

“Did you take one of these?” I ask, showing him the tablet Lex gave me.

“Not yet,” he says, “still deciding if I want to.”

“I’m only going to take half if you want to split it with me.”

“Yeah, actually, that’s a good idea. I hate getting too fucked up.”

“Me too,” I say as I bite the edge of it, careful not to bite it directly in half because I know it will crumble a bit anyway. The flavor is incredibly bitter, almost too much even for me. I feel a little guilty handing the other half to Ash and watching his face twist up as he swallows it.

One of Lex’s friends, a petite girl with a blonde pixie cut and glitter covering her eyelids, hands us her water bottle, “Here, you guys can finish it.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. She is now my favorite. “Remind me what your name is?”

“Blair,” she smiles and points to herself

“Right, thank you, Blair.” I take a small sip of water, just enough to wash away whatever crumbs are left behind in my mouth, and then hand the bottle to Ash who happily chugs the rest.

“Thank you so much,” he says to Blair before walking over to toss the bottle in the recycle bin.

Once inside, we stop at the counter to check our jackets with a bubbly woman who is offering everyone a Starburst from a bowl placed conveniently next to a tip jar complete with a QR code to tip digitally if you don’t have cash. I don’t touch the candy, but I do leave a generous tip when I hand her my favorite zip-up hoodie. She hands me back a numbered stub, and I take a photo of it with my phone before shoving it into my pocket, just in case.

I turn to step aside and make room for the others but stop when I see Ash pulling his hoodie up over his head. His t-shirt is stuck to it causing it to rise up and expose the bare skin of his waist. My brain short-circuits, all thoughts leaving my mind aside from the image of wrapping my hands around that waist, of getting on my knees and— “Ow!”

Lex pinches the back of my arm, snapping me back to reality. I look over at her and she points at me, her eyes squinting to a glare behind her glasses, clearly in best-friend-protection mode. “What was that for?” As if I don’t already know. She’s forgiven me for the way I hurt Ash before but obviously not forgotten.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m watching you.”

I hold my hands up in surrender, “You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“Mhm,” is all she says before turning away and hooking arms with Ash as they walk up the stairs.

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glutoneblog · 8 months ago

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Glutone | Best Glutathione Tablets for skin glow I Setria Glutathione

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ishikaverma123 · 9 months ago

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Exploring the Intersection of Lifestyle, Diet, and Glutathione Levels – Glutone

In a world where lifestyle choices and dietary patterns are scrutinized for their impact on our health, the enigma surrounding Glutathione is both intriguing and perplexing. Questions abound – how does our way of life influence this cellular guardian?

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grandlinedreams · 1 year ago

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[heads up!: vague au setting, vampire!law, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing, there will be a part 2 to this]

He's hungry.

Normally that isn't a problem for Law, because he knows a work-around, tried and true ㅡ in the form of small white tablets that he drops into water, watches dissolve into watery red and downs without a second thought.

Far from the best tasting thing, but it works well enough to curb the burn in his gums, the insistent hunger that makes his eyes glow a vivid gold at the height of it.

But he doesn't have any tablets on him, hasn't made them in ages ㅡ because there'd been an issue with distribution of an ingredient he needs for them, and now he hasn't eaten in weeks.

He knows what Corazon will say, suggesting he find someone to feed off of ㅡ like it's the easiest thing in in the world. As if Law isn't a creature of myth, damned to the shadows and lurking at the corner of nightmares.

He's worked too hard to conceal himself and what he is to throw it away like that ㅡ no matter how tempting it truly is. He takes pride in the fact that it's gotten easier to explain away the pallor of his skin, the dark shadows beneath his eyes ㅡ he works the night shift at this clinic, and nobody asks. Nobody wants this shift, anyways.

The problem with not eating as of late, however, is the constant wear on his ever thinning restraint. The nastier of cases always seem to come in at night ㅡ consequences of drunken antics. Broken noses, shredded skin. The more severe are always cleaned up and shipped off to the hospital, because there's only so much they can do here. (There's also only so much he can take of the seemingly boundless stupidity that plagues this town's people, too.)

At least tonight has been slow ㅡ slow enough that he'd managed to convince his coworkers to leave with the promise of contacting them if he needs them. Now he has no company outside of the tinny strains of music and low hum of electricity, watching the dull glow of headlights thrown against the waiting room walls.

And then there's a set of headlights that slow to a crawl, blazing before they dim with the low purr of an engine stopping. Law sits up, listens for car doors opening (two. the driver side, and then the passenger) and shutting in tandem before looking up as the sliding doors give a hiss of pressurized air.

"Oh thank god." The speaker is a blonde man that reminds him a little of Corazon, unlit cigarette in his mouth wobbling as he speaks. "You can help, can't you?"

Depends, Law wants to say, but knows he needs to work on his bedside manner, because not everyone has the same flavor of humor that he does. So he nods instead. "I can certainly try. What seems to be the problem?"

Blonde man's visible blue eye flicks to his companion, and Law finally takes in how pale you are, the kitchen towel that's wrapped tightly around your forearm. Blonde man goes to unwrap it, and Law finally catches the sweet, delicious scent of blood.

"Wait." He says, tone sharper than he means to be as he backpedals, "Tell me what happened first." He definitely doesn't need you bleeding to death in the waiting room.

"It was an accident," you say, "and I think Sanji's being dramatic about it. I'll be fine." There's a haze to your eyes that makes Law think that Sanji is absolutely right in bringing you in, and that you're trying to downplay the severity of it ㅡ especially now that he can see the dark seep of blood into the kitchen towel.

He clenches his jaw, never more grateful for the mask that covers his mouth as he is now with the prominent burn of his gums and muted, answering growl of his stomach. He's so hungry and you've walked in like a goddamn buffet.

"I'll have to take a look at it and see if we need to call an ambulance to take you to the hospital," he says, and you blanch.

"Is that necessary?"

Sanji gives you a fierce look for him. "Do you want to die?"

"Still think you're being dramatic," you mumble, but it doesn't take a sharp eye to see that you're struggling to remain upright. Law reaches for the check-in sheet, placing it on a clipboard with a pen and pushes it to Sanji.

"I trust you can fill this out for them? I'll take them back and get an assessment done." He's on his feet and around the desk before you can blink, gripping your shoulders with surprising strength.

"Don't need your help."

He raises an eyebrow. "You want the wheelchair instead? I don't need to add head trauma to your chart if you pass out on me." That shuts you up, and he steers you through the double doors, watches you squint against the harsh lighting.

"Sit." He guides you to the examination bed, thin paper crinkling beneath you. Perching himself in the chair, he slides to a stop in front of you. "Let's take a look."

He's mindful as he peels the towel away, clicks his tongue in sympathy when you hiss as he pulls the towel away completely, pretending he doesn't want to pull his mask down and lick his gloved fingers clean of your blood.

He turns to grab a handful of gauze and the squeeze bottle of distilled water, ignores the watery red drip that puddles on the floor as he cleans your arm.

"How you haven't passed out is beyond me," he remarks as he examines the laceration, prodding carefully to see just how deep it goes. "But you're lucky."

You find it in yourself to scoff. "And how's that?"

"Still alive, aren't you?" Sharp gold eyes meet yours. "And you'll get to go home with just some stitches." With his hold on your arm, he can feel you stiffen.

"Stitches?" If possible, your face goes even paler. "I don't do stitches."

He raises an eyebrow. "Something like this won't just go away," he says, "and it'll take even longer to heal if left like this. Stitches areㅡ"

"No," you cut in. "No stitches."

Law's brow knits. Do you have some personal vendetta against stitches? True, they've never been a favorite of his either especially with how they itch while they heal. And if it's the application of them that you're worried about, he's good at them, hands steady and swift.

"I don't care what you do," you tell him, jaw set and eyes surprisingly clear now even for the blood loss, "but no stitches."

He hates the immediate solution that comes to mind. But it's two birds with one stone, even with the alarm bells going off in his head. It's a bad idea ㅡ a really bad idea. But he's so hungry, and you don't want stitches.

"I have another idea," he says slowly, still weighing his options, the mental flip of a coin. He's going to regret this if it goes sideways, but it's all he can think of at the moment. "But you need to trust me. And not tell anyone."

This time, it's you who raises an eyebrow, expression wary. "Okay? As long as it isn't stitches, I really don't care."

Law takes a deep breath, steeling himself before he tugs his mask down. He feels the descent of his fangs, the weight of them in his mouth as he tugs your arm closer.

"Remember what I said," he tells you as you watch him in growing confusion, "you can't tell anyone about this."

You don't scream, and part of him wonders if blood loss is finally taking its toll on you and you'll think that this is some kind of resulting delirium. Whatever you want to believe, so long as it keeps him out of trouble. The sink of his fangs into your skin makes you hiss, his grip tightening to keep you from flinching away as he waits for the numbing quality of his saliva to kick in. When you finally sigh and relax, he eases up.

And then he licks your wound. The glide of his tongue is slow and intentional, cleaning the beading of fresh blood from it and biting back a groan of satisfaction. Part of him notes now that the wound is too straight and precise to be a true accident, but he can't bring himself to pull away and demand a detailed answer because you taste so much better than those damn tablets.

The first swallow is rough, the tang of your blood on his tongue intoxicating ㅡ and then he takes another, and another.

Law knows he can't take too much from you, aware that you've already lost quite a bit but is still reluctant as he retracts his fangs. Another slow lick along the length of it finishes the job, and Law moves to clean residual blood before he wraps it in clean white bandage.

"There we go," he announces, watches the slow, sleepy blink of your eyes ㅡ and determines that even though it's still a gamble, you won't be telling anyone what you just witnessed. "Good as new."

"Thanks, doc." Your speech is slurred, and he wonders if he did take too much. But you're steadier than he expects when he helps you to your feet, letting him guide you back through the doors to where Sanji is waiting.

"All patched up," he reports, "just let us know if you notice anything out of the ordinary. Fever in the localized area or full body temperature, increased pain or if it starts weeping."

"Thanks," Sanji answers, handing him the clipboard in exchange for you, and Law watches the two of you leave, listening for the sound of car doors and the purr of the engine.

It's only once you're gone that what he's done fully hits him, guilt in the place of hunger. What was he thinking? Had he been thinking at all?

"How are you feeling?" Sanji's question makes you roll away from where you've been counting streetlamps, prompting you to sit up.

Clearly not. He hisses a low curse, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He needs to call Corazon, see if they need to run damage control.

ㅡ

"Like crap," you tell him flatly, "next time Zoro suggests something like this, how about he does it."

"You didn't have to cut so deep."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Hush," you say, and he waits for you to continue. "Intel was right, though. Definitely a vampire."

Sanji rolls down the window, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the cigarette he'd finally lit while waiting for you. "Think he suspected anything?"

You reach for the neat bandaging of your arm. Unraveling it to expose smooth, unbroken skin, you're momentarily grateful that the thin, looping scars are spiderweb thin and invisible to anyone not trained to look for them. "No," you answer, studying where the laceration had been, "I don't think he did."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #–ml: law.#it wouldn't leave me be til I wrote it so enjoy!

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kayentokk · 2 years ago

Text

Portraying Bakugo Katsuki

— Pairing; Katsuki Bakugo x GN! Reader

— Synopsis; People often see Bakugo in a harsh light, and he’s gotten used to it. However, when you portray him in your fluorescent light, he thinks he likes it a bit more. Based on this Drabble I made. —contains; fluff, doting, frustration, soft! Bakugo(?)

—wc; 682

—A/N; just a cute lil thought

“Ughhh,” that was the 10th time you sighed, in 3 minutes.

You frantically dragged your poor abused eraser across your paper, for the 6th time, and created a hole in your erased pencil stained paper. Angrily, you balled up the paper and threw it in the trash bin by your desk, which was overflown with countless of your other crumbled up drawings.

It was like nothing was working. You had great models right in front of you on your tablet screen, and you just didn’t like what you were producing.

Shutting the computer screen, you dug your head into your arms and closed your eyes. Deciding that he’d had enough of your ‘fits’ Bakugo gruffly asks,

“The hell is wrong now?”

“I just can’t do it,” you reply defeatedly.

He sighs, ”do what?”

“This art class assignment,” you groan, “no matter what I do or who I draw my creative juices just aren’t flowing to me, ya know?”

He just grunts a “mm”

Then it hit you, and you sat up to stare at him. And almost like clockwork, he had sensed what you were thinking and immediately huffed out a,

“No.”

“Awww cmon’ pleasee?”

“No Y/n.”

“Please? I’ll help you with anything, anytime.”

“No.”

“You just want me to fail,” you mumble under your breath with a pout.

“Oh for fucks sake,” he says running a hand through his hair, “make it quick.”

He gives in. He always gives in to you. Most times, he wants to punch himself in the face for it, but he just can’t say no.

“Yay! You’re the best Kats!” You quickly perk up.

“Yeah yeah,” he replies.

You got him a stool from your kitchen and placed it next to your spinny desk chair.

“Okay sit and I’ll tell you how to pose.”

He sat with hesitance, as you pulled up a picture on your phone of a model with their arm over their head facing towards the left, the perfect pose.

You showed him with the biggest smile on your face,

“No.”

“Aww cmon,” you whined.

“Y/n.”

“Fine, just sit still, straighten your back, and lift your chin.”

He did as you asked, a bit awkwardly at that but he did it. You turned your lamp light on the right side of his face and sat for a moment amazed at what you saw.

His sharp jawline relaxed but still prominent in his features, the vein in his neck bulging a bit at you staring deeply at his features. His beautiful dark crimson eyes aren’t tensed or harsh they’re just perfect, and his skin almost glowing from the radiating fluorescent lamp light.

You quickly began sketching, noticing the small drop of sweat that rolled off of his neck and down to his collarbone, he was nervous. He’d never been sketched before.

“Calm down I’m almost done,” you said trying to ease his nerves.

When you were finished you put your pencil down, looked at the drawing, looked back at him, and smiled. You were content, no more than that, happy? You finally got the drawing you wanted. You captured his full essence on the paper, from the neck up.

You turned the notebook around to show him, well there wasn’t many pages left after an hour of you trying and failing, with the biggest grin on your face.

“Look! It’s good right? You’re such a good model maybe you can do this for me all the time-“

“Y/n,” he promptly cut you off.

“I know I know, thanks for helping me. I’ll go get some water for my hard working model,” you giggled while getting up to walk to your kitchen.

Bakugo found himself staring at the drawing intently, was that really him? The way you captured him on the blank piece of paper made him seem almost, calm?

You came bustling back into the room with two chilled glasses of water.

“Here ya go, and thanks again,” you said handing him the water.

“Mhm,” he grunts.

And deep down inside he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind you drawing him again…

@/firefly-graphics for the divider

#mha #bnha #anime #manga #fluff #men #bakugo #Katsuki #mha bakugou #mha katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo fluff #katsuki fluff #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader

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nopainnowhump · 1 month ago

Text

Cracks in the glass Pt.8

(TW): Graphic depiction of illness, Emotional distress, Non-consensual touch, Power imbalance.

The hallway buzzed with more activity than usual when Thomas arrived. Staff moved in and out of her cell, their hurried movements and clipped conversations making it clear something was off.

Anna was stationed by the glass, her clipboard pressed against her side. Her pink scrubs were a stark contrast to the tension in the air, but her furrowed brow said it all.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked, his voice steady as he approached.

Anna turned toward him, her usual warm demeanor tempered by concern. “She’s been sick all night,” she explained softly. “Vomiting, low-grade fever. We think it might be the flu—probably picked it up from one of the aides.”

Thomas’s gaze shifted to the cell. Through the glass, he could see her curled up on the floor, pale and trembling. Even from here, the exhaustion and discomfort radiating off her were unmistakable.

“Did you give her anything?” he asked.

Anna nodded. “We managed to get some anti-nausea meds into her earlier, but she’s still pretty agitated. Right now, we’re giving her space to rest and monitoring her fever.”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. “Alright,” he said. He glanced at Anna. “Anything else I need to know?”

“She’s sleep-deprived,” Anna added. “And still not eating much. Honestly, she’s just... miserable. But we’re keeping an eye on her. For now, it’s best to let her be.”

Thomas stepped closer to the glass, his expression softening slightly. He knocked gently, his knuckles brushing against the cool surface. “Hey,” he said, his voice calm and low. “I heard you’re not feeling great.”

Inside, she stirred faintly, lifting her head just enough to shoot him a weak glare. Her face was drawn, her eyes glassy with fever. For a moment, it seemed like she might scream at him, but instead, she turned away, curling back into herself as her body trembled with nausea.

“Yeah,” Thomas murmured. “Rough day.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor, his back against the glass. “Well, same as always,” he said, pulling a tablet from his bag. “We can just hang out. No pressure.”

She didn’t move. Her body remained tense, her head resting on her knees as she fought the nausea.

Thomas powered on the tablet, the glow of the screen casting soft light through the cell. “Figured I’d put on another movie,” he said casually. “You seemed to like it last time, even if you pretended not to.”

There was no response.

He adjusted the tablet on the stand, angling it toward her. She didn’t look at it immediately, but her breathing slowed slightly, the faint sounds from the movie cutting through the heavy silence.

Thomas leaned back, pulling out his laptop and balancing it on his knees. He began typing, his fingers moving rhythmically over the keys.

Minutes passed, and her body remained curled on the floor, but her head shifted slightly, her eyes flickering toward the screen.

Thomas glanced over, hiding a small smile. “Take your time,” he muttered under his breath. “We’ve got all day.”

The movie played on, its soft hum filling the space. She didn’t speak, didn’t scream, but she stayed still, her focus drifting to the tablet. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ease some of the weight in his chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fever burned through me, a relentless fire under my skin. My body trembled violently with chills, the cold air against my sweat-drenched skin making it worse. Every breath was shallow and labored, my chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. My head pounded with a dull, throbbing ache, and the nausea never left, twisting in my stomach like a cruel knot.

I could barely move, my limbs limp and useless as the room spun in a haze of heat and sickness.

The door hissed open, and I didn’t even have the energy to flinch. Kyle’s boots clapped against the tile, each step deliberate, followed by the doctor’s quieter, measured pace.

“Goddamn,” Kyle muttered, stopping just inside the room. “You look like hell.”

I managed a faint whimper, turning my head slightly, but even that small motion made the nausea spike.

“She reeks,” Kyle said, waving a hand in front of his face theatrically.

The doctor ignored him, his eyes scanning me clinically as he checked the clipboard in his hands. “Her fever’s climbing,” he said. “We need to cool her down.”

Kyle grinned, too wide, too eager. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing,” he said, pulling the thin sheet off me roughly. “You’re getting a bath, sweetheart. Aren’t you lucky?”

“No,” I whispered, barely audible, my throat dry and raw.

Kyle leaned down, his grin sharpening. “No? You don’t like the sound of that? Don’t worry—it’ll be refreshing.”

I tried to pull away, but my body barely responded, my muscles weak and trembling.

“Come on,” Kyle said impatiently, grabbing my arm with one hand while motioning to the doctor. “Help me move her.”

They lifted me together, their hands rough and unkind, ignoring the weak protests I couldn’t even vocalize. The cold metal of the stretcher sent fresh shivers through me as they laid me down, the chill biting into my already burning skin.

The hallway lights blurred above me as they wheeled me out, their voices blending with the squeak of the stretcher’s wheels. My head lolled to the side, the pounding in my skull making it impossible to focus.

When they stopped, the first thing I noticed was the tub. Gleaming white and empty, it sat like a trap in the center of the sterile room.

Kyle’s grin widened as they positioned the stretcher beside it. “Time for your big moment,” he said, clapping his hands together.

The doctor pulled cuffs from a nearby tray as Kyle leaned over me. “We wouldn’t want you thrashing around and hurting yourself,” he said mockingly, snapping the cuffs onto my wrists and securing them to the sides of the tub.

I whimpered weakly, tugging against the restraints, but my body was too weak to resist.

Kyle crouched in front of me, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot against my fevered skin, making the nausea rise again. “Relax,” he said, his tone low and mocking. “It’s just a little water. You’ll thank me later.”

The doctor turned a valve on the wall, and the sound of rushing water filled the room.

The first splash of icy water hit my legs, and I screamed, the sound raw and broken. The cold stabbed into me like thousands of tiny needles, shocking my overheated body and stealing the air from my lungs.

Kyle laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d appreciate the relief. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The water rose quickly, each wave lapping higher against my body, soaking the fevered sweat from my skin but leaving a different kind of torment in its place.

My teeth chattered violently as the cold seeped into my bones. “Please,” I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“Please?” Kyle mocked, standing over me with an exaggerated look of pity. “Oh, honey, I didn’t know you could say that word. Too bad it doesn’t mean shit here.”

The water reached my chest, and I gasped, my lungs refusing to take in the freezing air. My convulsions grew worse, my body fighting against the restraints as the cold consumed me.

“Stop whining,” Kyle snapped, leaning down to press a hand on my shoulder, forcing me further into the icy water. “You should be grateful we’re even bothering with this.”

The doctor glanced at his watch, his tone detached. “Five more minutes.”

Kyle smirked. “Plenty of time.” He crouched again, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You remember this. Next time you think about messing up your bed or puking all over the place? Think about this bath. Because trust me, sweetheart—it can get worse.”

Tears blurred my vision as the water stung my skin and every breath felt like knives.

Kyle stood, brushing his hands off like he’d just finished a chore. “Enjoy your spa day,” he said, his voice sharp with sarcasm. “We’ll check on you later—if we feel like it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The nausea hit hard and fast, a familiar wave of heat and discomfort rising from my gut. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, and I staggered toward the small toilet in the corner, desperate not to vomit on myself.

The retching came violently, ripping through my throat as I clung to the cold porcelain. My head swam, my body trembling with each heave. Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the sweat dripping down my face.

A gentle hand touched my back, and I jerked away instinctively, a strangled gasp escaping me as I spun to look.

“Hey, hey,” Thomas said, his voice steady, a soft edge to his usual firmness. He held his hands up slightly, a non-threatening gesture. “It’s okay. I’m just here to help.”

I spit the sour remnants of bile into the toilet, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. He wasn’t supposed to be here—not like this. Not without guards or drugs pinning me down.

“Don’t hurt me,” he said evenly, not moving closer but not stepping back either.

I stared at him, searching his face for any trace of malice, but all I saw was calm patience. My legs buckled, and I let myself sink onto the floor, the cool tile pressing against my fevered skin. I was too tired to care anymore.

Thomas moved carefully, kneeling beside me. His hand returned to my back, slow and deliberate, tracing small, soothing circles.

“Guess this is a record,” he said lightly. “You didn’t even try to kill me while I’m in here.”

The joke caught me off guard, and for a moment, the tension in my chest eased. I didn’t laugh—I couldn’t—but I felt myself lean into his touch. Everything about it screamed wrong, screamed at me to pull away, but I didn’t.

He glanced at me, his voice softening further. “Why don’t we get you back to bed?”

I nodded faintly, unable to summon the strength to argue. He helped me up gently, his arm steady around my waist as he guided me back to the thin mattress. My body sagged against the bed as I collapsed onto it, too exhausted to do anything but stare blankly at the ceiling.

Thomas sat down on the floor beside me, his presence oddly grounding. I turned my head to look at him, still trying to process why he was here—why he was being... kind.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up. True to his word, he returned moments later with a water bottle, a blanket, and a small bag of chips. He placed them on the floor beside the bed.

“In case you start feeling better,” he said casually, his tone almost teasing.

The kindness hit me like a punch to the gut. Tears welled in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them. I buried my face in my hands, shaking as the sobs broke free.

Thomas knelt beside me again, his movements careful as he slid his arms around me. He lifted me gently, settling onto the bed and pulling me into his lap.

I should have fought it. Every part of me wanted to recoil, to scream, to push him away. But I didn’t. I let myself sink into his hold, the warmth of his body strangely comforting.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his hand stroking my hair in slow, rhythmic motions. “No one’s going to hurt you. Not here.”

His words unraveled something inside me, and the tears came harder, shaking my entire body as I clung to his shirt. I didn’t know what scared me more—the fact that I believed him or the fact that I wanted to.

His hand never stopped moving, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay,” he repeated, his tone unwavering. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.

Pt.9

#caretaker #experiment whump #whump community #whump scenario #whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump tropes #lab whump

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