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otkuhotgirl · 4 months ago

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─── 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑 .

# with black-leg sanji.

milk started to leak from your nipples — and sanji was never one to waste food.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day one. smut (mdni). breast worship. lactation. praise kink. pathetic sanji. handjob. no y/n used. afab!reader.

WC: 2k.

sanji had witnessed a fair share of devil-fruits in action throughout their sailing. from those who were foolish in its essence, such as that of the candle wax; to those who were horrid and lethal — sanji could well-reminisce the brightness and the sharp ache that followed-in-suit to enel’s lightning strikes. he figured not another thing could surprise him; until his crew faced a short-lived and stupid battle against the pirates from a self-proclaimed stork-stork captain.

the opponents caused no harm. their captain, all but managing to brush your shoulder before being swiftly knocked out. relieved with your untouched health — as it was shown through your exterior —, the straw-hats’ lives returned to common routine in the aftermath, not a thing amiss. that was, of course, until you started to throw up.

countless examinations and book researches pointed out the source of your illness. the devil-fruit from the stork-captain was known for the ability to impregnate others. however, the user needed to touch two people, and that hadn’t been the case — which had sanji praying and thanking gods he hardly believed in. the mere thought of you, bearing the marimo’s child, was enough to leave him seething. comical reaction aside, chopper theorized that, as you had no bundle of cells within your uterus, you’d but suffer from some pregnancy-related effects for a while — perhaps a time equal to the duration of your period. their doctor advised you to refrain from touching others with the previous common frequency, as to avoid the triggering of said devil-fruit.

that had happened four days ago, and sanji was in the deepest pit of despair. you were far from sight throughout the day, gracing them with your presence only during meal times — and even then, your chair was placed the furthest away from the rest, as to avoid accidental brushing. sanji was half-aware of the anatomical consequences of pregnancy: nausea, cramps, swelling; and being unable to support you through it all was driving him insane.

the soothing herbal tea he brewed was intercepted. he had chopper trailing behind him for hours on end. whenever you aimed to spend time outside the walls of your room, the damned marimo stood by the crow’s nest door as though a guarding dog, unallowing him to proceed. even then, with the sunny docked and most of the crew elsewhere, sanji held no expectations of sharing an alone moment with you whatsoever, as robin had been the one assigned to stay behind in order to guarantee that the pair of you would be kept separated. sanji could neither argue nor defy a woman’s request, and robin could not be swayed with monetary bribery on your part.

he sighed. the weather was not suitable for lukewarm beverages, so he could, at least, distract himself from you with thoughts on how to turn thyme tea into a pleasant summer drink. a knock on the kitchen’s door — followed-in-suit by light steps — tore him from his thoughts, however. sanji’s nostrils were filled with the characteristic scent of your perfume, and he turned to your direction so fast he was positive a bone in his back cracked.

“my love!” sanji shouted, gripping the counter to resist the urge to jump you.

“hi,” you greeted softly, sitting on the side opposite from him.

his throat dried up. he had missed the sound of your voice and sight of your face. having you close yet again after four, painful and infinite days, had him squirming as though an addict being offered his most favored drug.

“how did you manage to convince sweet robin?” he inquired, whose worried you waved away.

“i have my ways,” you smiled. sanji fell to his knees, immediately bolstering himself up with flushed cheeks, for he could not waste a second of that moment. “missed me that much?”

“oh, mon amour, you have no idea,” he started out, placing one hand above his chest in order to profess his affection. “the sun doesn’t shine as bright without you. the food loses its taste. the vastness of the ocean brings not freedom but rather a cruel, monstrous prison—”

“shit,” you interrupted through a curse, the lovesick glance once held switching to one of annoyance. sanji’s attention remolded itself, his instincts all but shouting at him to pay closer attention to your needs, rather than to complain about his non-comparable misery.

“are you hurting, my pearl? do you need me to prepare something? perhaps some tea,” he fretted, searching for soothing herbs. “are there any cravings? i can cook it for you, no matter how offsetting.”

“it’s none of the sort, don’t worry,” you sighed. “i just need to see chopper later on. it keeps leaking.”

sanji’s eyes trailed to the wet patch on your shirt; two dots staining the fabric and offering him the clear outline of your nipples. his knees buckled yet again, although he had learned enough from the previous embarrassment to contain himself. pregnancy had a countless set of effects; he could not believe he had forgotten of lactation — a process which happened to have a direct influence on the size of your breasts. sanji caught himself drooling upon the sight of it; your hands supporting the weight you were unused to.

“does it hurt?” he inquired, licking his lips.

“it is far from light on the back,” you answered, squeezing it with a sour expression. sanji grew embarrassed at the speed of his erection — his cock aching amidst the coffins of his clothes. yet another renewed influx of milk had begun, leaving a trail in its wake; tearing through the thin fabric, molded into a droplet that fell on your thighs.

“mon ange,” he whined, losing his breath mid-sentence. sanji felt the surge of tears pooling in his eyes, the sheer yearn to hold you one enough to drive him straight into a bridge of delirium. “please, it’s been so long.”

his hands clenched and unclenched. a pathetic gesture; a mute plead to be given the pleasure of groping your breasts. the glance spared was one filled with uncertainty, for you were the rock whose surface swayed with the waves of his lust. it was fair to be cautious — if sanji was a most decent man, he, too, would have waited — yet, he was anything but. the man jumped through the counter’s surface to drop on his knees in front of you, his lips ghosting over the flesh of your legs as he glanced up at you, shedding a single tear.

“please,” he pleaded. “i won’t put it in, i just want—no, i need a taste. i promise i will make you feel good, lumière de ma vie.”

your fingers threaded through blonde locks of hair; infatuation filled-eyes. “you wish to be good to me?”

“yes,” he whined, pressing feather-light kisses to the extension of your legs. “more than anything, ma belle.”

you hummed then, at last conceding to his desire. when your touch left his figure in order to remove the ruined shirt, sanji raised to his feet, placing his hands on your waist.

“wait, wait,” he stuttered, clearing his throat. “i want it to be comfortable for you. a mere kitchen chair will not suffice.”

your thumb parted his lips, resting above the lower share. “you’re so caring, love. always treats me so well, what would i do without my knight?”

he whimpered, closing his mouth around the tip of your finger, his tongue swirling with regained desire. sanji’s arms cradled your figure closer, raising you from the previous seat in order to reach a more comfortable room. you retreated your hand, wiping the tears off his cheeks with fleeting brushes of your lips. adoring whispers were a blessing bestowed upon his ears — praises regarding his strength; his beauty; his love. he could feel the warmth of his pre-cum, smearing the tip and the underwear’s fabric.

he sat you with tenderness on the crimson cushes of the leisure room, placing one of its pillows on your lap. when sanji’s fingers met the edges of your shirt, he found them trembling.

“so eager,” you cooed, petting his chin. “will you be my good boy, sanji?”

“yes,” he whined, tender hands working on the removal of your shirt. the wet patch was more prominent, with nothing but the dripping fabric of your bra separating him from the anticipated and sacred vision.

sanji struggled with the clasp, yet you neither reprimanded nor complained. instead, your words were nothing but soothing. “take your time, there’s no rush.”

he slid the straps down your arms, dragging his tongue around the internal dampness etched on your bra’s cups. the taste had him shuddering; whining and rutting his erection against your bare leg as he attempted to swallow it all, sucking on the fabric. your touch was soft on his scalp; toying with the disheveled hair.

“how does it taste?”

“like heaven, ma moitié.”

a lonesome string of saliva connected his lips from the fabric of your bra, yet it was broken once he placed it on the couch. you tapped twice on the pillow above your lap, beckoning him closer. sanji had then positioned his head on it, eyes trailed to your swollen nipples.

“open wide,” you instructed, and he behaved as though a loyal servant; you, his muse and goddess. “that’s it, such a good boy.”

he moaned, witnessing as you pinched on your left nipple, an amount of liquid gushing over. sanji angled his head in order to catch it all; his tongue lolling out. the perfection of your body had offered him a feast and he would rather not waste a single drop. the initial taste drove him mad, and you raised a knee to drive his face closer to where he wished. sanji’s mouth closed around the hardened nipple, as he cupped and teased the other breast, striving to have it leaking as well.

tears rolled down and sanji closed his eyes at the enhanced taste, moaning with sheer desperation as he delved further, his tongue swirling around the bud as his cheeks hollowed in an attempt to coat more of your milk.

“open your eyes for me, my love. i want to see you,” you voiced out, brushing his fringe aside. when he caught a glimpse of your face — worked up and eager; loving and grateful — he rutted his hips against thin air, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “my handsome prince; my diligent heart. you, too, want to be touched, don’t you?”

sanji tried to convey his agreement through a glance, the thought of departing his lips from your breast to produce an answer all too unbearable. you tsked, tugging lightly on his hair.

“a good boy uses his words, and you’re good, aren’t you, san-ji?” you dragged the syllables of his name, teasing him further.

“yes,” he swallowed the milk beforehand, his lips leaving your nipple with a pop. the sudden lack of contact had you whining — it was brief; hidden; but there nevertheless. “please, love, please touch me.”

sanji whimpered as your fingers hovered over the waistband of his pants. “how could i ever deny my baby?”

the fabric of his pants and underwear lowered ever-so-slightly — only enough to free his aching cock — and sanji cried out when he felt the teasing of your thumb on the tip. his mouth latched itself around your nipple yet again, his fingers pinching and teasing the other one as if to coax your essence. the strokes on his cock matched the rhythm of his tongue, swirling and hot, coated white. sanji dragged out his teeth — a butterfly-touch; a temptive bite — and your lips produced the sound of an angel’s choir.

you shuddered, arching your back, face contorting with pleasure as he claimed your sensitive breast. sanji’s eyes were wide, drowning in the magnificent beauty. crimson, warm, red dripped down his nostrils, a trail that merged with the white from your essence. the milk he failed to swallow escaped past his lips, dripping on the pillow; wetting his goatee. the sound of his moan came out muffled, though the vibration had you mewling.

“keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.”

he was your knight; baby; perfect. neither a failure nor a nuisance, but your good boy.

the taste was intrinsic to you, yet unique; the sweetest beverage he was given the honor to drown in. inimitable, stimulating points of his palate that diverged from those teased by your cum. the divine essence born from your pleasure had a saltier base, it would have worked well as a topping for caramelized meals, though sanji hadn’t been able to convince you to use your cum for that purpose. your milk, however; oh, how he yearned to use it. how would it affect the flavor of a smoothie, a cheesecake? which ingredients would suit best to neutralize the overbearing sweetness?

sanji groaned with need, groping your other breast, his cock twitching once the scarce milk tainted his palm, trailing down his wrist; wetting the buttoned sleeves of his shirt. his lascivious tongue followed-in-suit, his nose burrowed into your flesh.

“t’es mon obsession,” he whimpered, sucking on the tender spots around your nipple, ensuing a painting of red and purple; leaving butterfly-kisses and soft bites, tearing up as his mouth failed to swallow you whole. “je t’aime beaucoup.”

your voice failed mid-moan, and you pushed his face back into your swollen niple, eyes rolling once sanji returned to his previous ministrations. your palm squeezed him; his pre-cum a lubrification that enhanced the pleasure from the masturbation. he rutted his hips, craving your touch, and your fingers busied themselves with his face; drawing heart-patterns, wiping the fresh blood off his nose. your thumb brushed against the milk that fell from the side of his lips, red and white creating pink.

when you smeared the tip of your tongue with it, tasting and moaning around your own finger, sanji combusted. he tore his mouth from your nipple, rubbing himself against your hand while moaning louder than he had ever done. a drop of milk fell upon his trembling lips and he opened them as wide as he could, tainting your palm with his cum while your milk did the same to his tongue.

you hummed with approval, pushing his sweat-drenched fringe off his temple. “let it all out, my love. i’m here, that’s it.”

sanji choked on your milk, whimpering whatsoever as a particular squeeze dried him off his essence.

“a good boy cleans up his mess,” you cooed, wiping his tears. “will you be good for me?”

“always, my heart,” he stuttered, his tongue lapping at the damp flesh of his other palm, chasing the sweet taste of your milk.

the breast he hadn’t sucked on leaked less; sanji wondered if he could change that in the future. your thumb gathered the milk on his cheeks and goatee and guided it to his awaiting lips. sanji sucked on it with diligence, drawing pleasure from your approving expression. at last, he sat upright, wiping his cum hastily with his underwear, whining as you sucked on the rest of his load that stained your fingers.

“don’t move,” he instructed, pulling his pants up with a cough. sanji removed the pillow off your lap and properly laid your back on the couch. he wrapped his coat around your shoulders, caressing your chin before pressing his lips against yours. “i’ll pick you a clean shirt and bra. some water, too. just relax, chérie.”

when sanji left, he made sure to hide your previous clothes inside his own closet, sniffing the fabric and chasing the vanishing scent of your milk; committing it to memory. he would not be able to live without that, his palate itching to be graced with the sweet flavor again. he had no idea of the duration of that devil-fruit, but it was of no problem, as all he had to do then, to keep on draining you off your milk, was put a real baby on you.

— 🐈‍⬛ : the nasty month is officially upon us! had to start with my beautiful french blonde, the light of my life. 🫡 let’s have some fun through october!

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #op #op x reader #op x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op smut #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji x you #sanji smut #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece smut #vinsmoke sanji smut

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ms-demeanor · 7 days ago

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Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

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mcrdvcks · 8 days ago

Text

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ science, baby!

chapter summary: You and Logan begin to try for a baby.

word count: 7.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: hope y'all enjoy this one, it's a mostly cute fluffy chapter :)

also, didn't mean to post so late, i was up late last night writing the peter lyman fanfic😭(it'll hopefully be out tomorrow, but be warned, it's a long one)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, trying for a baby, talks of pregnancy and fertility, fluff, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, slight angst, not proofread

series masterlist - chapter 3 → chapter 5

You walked into the kitchen, thermos in hand, sipping the herbal tea you’d begrudgingly swapped for your usual coffee. Logan stood by the counter, reaching for the coffee pot, and you immediately sprang into action. Without thinking, you grabbed the empty mug from his hand, holding it out of his reach.

“No coffee,” you said firmly, narrowing your eyes at him.

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he looked down at you. “What do you mean, ‘no coffee’? Darlin’, it’s coffee.”

You shook your head, standing your ground. “Exactly. And we agreed to cut back. Remember? Coffee isn’t exactly helpful for…” Your voice trailed off, and you glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush.

Logan tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “For what?” he teased, clearly enjoying your bashfulness. “Go on, say it.”

You huffed, giving him a light shove. “You know what I mean! The research said caffeine can affect… you know, certain things.”

Logan chuckled, setting the coffee pot back on the counter. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, watching you with amusement. “Darlin’, I heal faster than most people. I don’t think a little caffeine’s gonna mess with my…” He paused, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “... swimmers.”

Your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to busy yourself with your thermos. “Logan,” you muttered, your voice a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm, before stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone gentler now. “If it matters to you, I’ll lay off the coffee. For now.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his quick concession. “Really?”

Logan nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Really. If we’re doin’ this, we’re doin’ it together. No coffee, no whiskey, no nothin’. Just tell me what else you need me to do.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled. “Thank you,” you said quietly, leaning into his touch. “It’s not just about the coffee. It’s about… us giving this our best shot.”

He nodded, his expression serious now. “I get it. And I’m in, darlin’. Whatever it takes.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Good. Because there’s a whole list I’ve been working on.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “A list, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re planning on sneaking coffee behind my back,” you teased, earning a mock-offended scoff from him.

“I’d never,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew your attention, and Jean entered the kitchen, her red hair tied back in a loose ponytail. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, glancing between the two of you with a knowing smile.

“Just convincing Logan to give up coffee,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Jean raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Good luck with that.”

Logan shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jean shrugged, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “Just that I’ve seen you sneak a cup or two when you think no one’s watching. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

You turned to Logan, your eyes narrowing. “Sneaking coffee, huh?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m done with coffee. Scout’s honor.”

Jean laughed softly, leaning against the counter. “You two are adorable, you know that?”

You felt your cheeks warm again, and Logan, ever the opportunist, wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “What can I say? She brings out the best in me.”

Jean smiled warmly at the two of you before grabbing her apple and heading out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

Once she was gone, Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand still resting on your waist. “Guess I’d better get used to tea,” he said, eyeing your thermos.

You handed it to him with a grin. “Try it. You might like it.”

He took a sip, his expression immediately souring. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

You laughed, leaning against him. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Logan grumbled, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

As you stood there together, his arm around you and the faint warmth of the tea lingering between you, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

---

“Since when has your lab become a shrine?” Logan asked as he stepped inside, his eyebrows raised. His sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on the biology and pregnancy books stacked neatly on your desk. Then his gaze moved to the whiteboard covered in colorful charts, numbers, and a suspiciously detailed calendar.

You glanced up from where you were jotting notes at the table, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not a shrine,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s… research.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Research? Looks more like you’re plannin’ to launch a rocket. What’re all these numbers?”

You hesitated, your pen hovering over the notebook. “Uh… temperatures.”

“Temperatures?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Who’s?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you muttered, “Ours.”

Logan blinked. “Ours? When the hell did you take my temperature?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the page in front of you. “You sleep like a rock, Logan. I might’ve… borrowed a moment.”

Logan snorted, running a hand through his hair. “Darlin’, you’re takin’ my temperature in my sleep now? What’s next, experimentin’ on me?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed your amusement. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s important to track these things if we want to—well, you know, increase our chances.”

Logan pushed off the doorframe and walked over to the whiteboard, squinting at the calendar. “What’re these stars next to certain dates?” he asked, pointing at a few marked in red.

Your face burned even hotter. “Those are… um, optimal days.”

Logan’s lips twitched as he turned to look at you, his expression thoroughly entertained. “Optimal days? You mean to tell me you’re scheduling sex now?”

You threw your pen at him, though it barely grazed his shoulder. “I’m being scientific about it! It’s not scheduling—it’s maximizing opportunities.”

Logan laughed, the sound rich and warm, as he leaned against the desk next to you. “So, what’s next on the plan, Doctor? You got a list of vitamins for me to take?”

Your silence must’ve said it all, because Logan’s amused expression turned suspicious. “Wait, you’re serious?”

You reached for a small container on the desk, holding it up. Inside were a mix of capsules and tablets in various colors. “These are specially formulated,” you explained, handing it to him.

Logan opened the container, his eyebrows shooting up as he counted the pills. “There’s gotta be fifteen of these things in here. You expect me to down all of ‘em?”

“They’re important,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “And they’re extra-strength so your healing factor doesn’t cancel ‘em out.”

Logan shook his head, muttering under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he picked up one of the bottles on the desk and studied the label. “You really are pullin’ out all the stops, huh?”

You softened, setting your notebook down and meeting his gaze. “I just… I want to make sure we’re doing everything we can. I know it might seem a little over the top, but—”

“Hey.” Logan cut you off, his voice gentler now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I get it. And I’m not givin’ you a hard time. If this is what we gotta do, then I’m all in.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the teasing and laughter faded, replaced by a quiet understanding. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Logan gave you a small smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Always, darlin’. Now, how about you tell me what else you’ve got on that whiteboard of yours?”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “Only if you promise to stop sneakin’ coffee.”

Logan groaned dramatically. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Logan.”

“Fine,” he relented, grabbing the thermos of tea you’d left on the desk. He took a sip and immediately grimaced. “I’m really startin’ to miss the old days.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the thermos from him, though your smile lingered. “You’ll survive.”

As the two of you stood there, surrounded by your meticulous planning and Logan’s begrudging compliance, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. It wasn’t just about the charts or the vitamins—it was about the future you were building together, one step at a time.

---

It had been almost 6 months since you and Logan started trying, which is why you had started doing research and tracking cycle’s, body temperatures, and making sure the both of you were taking vitamins.

But it also meant doing research on other things too. Like—

“Are you readin’ porn?”

Logan’s gravelly voice snapped you out of your focused haze. Your head shot up, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t even heard him come in, much less lean over your shoulder to see the screen of your laptop.

“What?” you blurted, your hand reflexively slamming the laptop shut. Too late. Logan’s grin was already spreading, the kind that reached his eyes and filled them with mischief.

“Thought I’d seen it all, but here you are, learnin’ about creative new angles,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the edge of the table.

“It’s not—” you paused, your face heating as you tried to think of a way to explain yourself. “It’s research, Logan. For… conceiving.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your defense. “Uh-huh. And what exactly were you tryin’ to learn, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the laptop. “…Best positions,” you mumbled under your breath, the words barely audible.

Logan barked out a laugh, the deep sound reverberating through the room. “Best positions? Hell, you’ve got a whole lab full of books and charts, but this is what you’re stuck on?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can you not make this more embarrassing than it already is?”

“Can’t promise that.” Logan reached out, gently prying your hands away from your face. His grin softened as he tilted his head at you. “C’mon, darlin’. Don’t look so mortified. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you echoed, half-exasperated, half-amused despite yourself. “I’m sitting here reading medical journals about optimal positions, and you think that’s cute?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it shows how bad you want this.” Logan’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His voice dropped into a gentler tone. “You’ve been takin’ all this on yourself, and I get why. But you know you’re not in this alone, right? Whatever it takes, I’m with you.”

Your eyes softened at his words. Logan might tease endlessly, but there was always sincerity beneath it. That sincerity was part of why you loved him so fiercely.

“Thanks,” you murmured, squeezing his hand.

Logan leaned back slightly, his grin creeping back. “So, you gonna share what you learned? You’ve got my full attention now.”

You gave him a light shove, rolling your eyes as your smile widened. “You really want me to get into the mechanics of it?”

“Darlin’, I’ve spent over a century figurin’ things out on my own. If you’ve got some expert tips, I’m all ears.”

Your face burned as you tried to keep your voice steady. “Fine. Basically… uh, some positions are better for, um, helping things along. Gravity and angles—”

Logan smirked. “Oh, I get it now. It’s physics. Guess you’re in your element, huh?”

You swatted at him with your free hand, unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, Logan, it’s physics. And afterwards, raising my hips for about fifteen minutes can apparently help even more. Something about keeping things… in place longer.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a slow grin, his hazel eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of humor and something a little more primal. “Practical application, then?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the bookshelf to your left. “…Maybe,” you said, your voice quieter.

Logan stood, towering over you in a way that felt more protective than intimidating. He tipped your chin up with two fingers, ensuring you couldn’t escape his gaze. “We don’t have to keep this scientific, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours.

You managed a small smirk, though your breath hitched at his closeness. “I don’t know, Logan. I think I’d look cute with a pillow under my hips afterward.”

That earned you a low chuckle, and Logan shook his head. “Fine. Science it is. But don’t go thinkin’ I need much persuadin’.”

Before you could reply, he swept you off your feet—literally—leaving your squeak of surprise echoing through the room as he carried you out the door. “Logan! Where are we going?”

“To try those optimal angles,” he replied, voice heavy with amusement. “Can’t let all that research go to waste.”

You covered your face with your hands, your laughter muffled by your palms. Maybe you’d let him win this round.

---

You turned on your side to face Logan, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting a golden glow over his features. He was already awake, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly on your waist. His hazel eyes flicked down to yours as a small, lazy grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low from sleep.

You blinked up at him, still hazy, your glasses sitting on the bedside table where you’d left them the night before. “Morning,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s thumb brushed a gentle circle over your hip. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your words coming slower, the weight of sleep still clinging to you. “You?”

“Like a log,” he said, his grin deepening. “Though wakin’ up next to you’s the best part.”

You gave him a soft smile, your cheeks warming. “You always know just what to say.”

His hand shifted, sliding up your waist and resting just below your ribs. The look in his eyes darkened slightly, the softness giving way to something hungrier. “Ain’t sayin’ it just to say it, sweetheart.”

“Logan…” Your voice trailed off, knowing that tone, that look. “It’s not… I mean, today isn’t…”

“Not an ‘optimal’ day?” he guessed, the corner of his mouth quirking up as his fingers traced idle patterns on your skin. “Don’t care.”

You raised a brow at him, even as your heart skipped a beat. “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” Logan shifted, rolling onto his side to face you fully. His hand moved down, slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt to rest against your bare skin. “It’s been six months of plannin’ and chartin’ and all that other stuff. Ain’t sayin’ it doesn’t matter, but sometimes I just wanna hold my wife.”

You swallowed, your breath hitching as his hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the underside of your breast. “Logan…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, that rough, familiar rasp sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words. Your body was already responding to his touch, your skin warming under his calloused hands.

“You love it,” he countered, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Now, c’mere.”

Before you could protest—not that you wanted to—Logan was pulling you closer, rolling onto his back and guiding you to straddle his hips. His hands found your thighs, squeezing gently as he looked up at you with that crooked grin that always made your knees weak.

“Logan, I don’t even have my glasses on,” you pointed out, your voice breathless.

“Gotcha covered,” he said, reaching over to the bedside table with one hand while the other stayed firmly on your hip. He grabbed your glasses, unfolding them with practiced ease before slipping them onto your face. “Better?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, his hands returning to your waist, pulling you down against him. “Now stop distractin’ me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as Logan’s hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his palms as he explored every inch of you. His touch was firm but careful, reverent in a way that made your chest ache with how much you loved him.

“Logan…” you breathed, your hands finding his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he guided your hips to grind against his.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Just like that.”

You gasped, your movements becoming more insistent as his hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. He leaned up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you breathless.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you against him as the hard length of him pressed firmly against you through the thin fabric of his boxers. The heat of him, the unmistakable need in the way he moved you, sent a jolt through your core. A soft sound escaped your lips before you could stop it, and his eyes darkened at the sound.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers tightened, keeping you moving, drawing delicious friction between you both.

Your breath hitched, your hands bracing against his chest, fingers curling into the hard muscle beneath your palms. “Logan…” you began, your voice shaky but laced with warmth, a quiet plea threading through his name.

“Mhm, sweetheart?” His lips quirked up into that familiar grin, the one that could undo you completely. “You just keep ridin’ me like that. Don’t stop now.”

The bluntness of his words made your cheeks flush, but it wasn’t embarrassment that had your thighs tightening around him. You bit your lip, your hips moving instinctively as the growing ache in you demanded more.

Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the soft skin just beneath your breasts. He leaned up slightly, his breath warm against your jaw as he murmured, “You feel so good, darlin’. Always do.”

You let out a soft whimper, your body responding to him like it always did. Your hips rolled, the thin barrier of fabric doing little to dull the intensity of the sensation. He was hard and hot beneath you, and the teasing friction only made you want more.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching. “I need…”

His grin widened, and his hands slid back to your hips, stilling you. “What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone low and teasing, though there was an edge of seriousness to it. “You’re gonna have to say it.”

You groaned, your cheeks burning hotter as you avoided his gaze for a moment. But the ache in you was stronger than your shyness. “I need you,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended but clear enough for him to hear.

Logan’s grin softened into something warmer, though the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade. “Good girl,” he murmured, the praise making your heart race. His hands tugged at your underwear, and you lifted your hips to help him slide them down your thighs, discarding them onto the floor.

Before you could overthink the vulnerability of being completely bare in front of him, Logan’s hands were back on you, grounding you with their rough warmth. His thumbs caressed your thighs as his gaze roamed over you, taking in every inch. “Goddamn,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before his hands guided you back down, the heat of him pressing against your bare core now. The sensation made you gasp, and Logan groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Bet I could slide right in without any trouble.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders as your need for him grew unbearable. “Please, Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Logan reached between you, tugging his boxers down just enough to free himself. You felt the hot, hard length of him against you, and it made your whole body tremble. He lined himself up, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he guided you down onto him.

The stretch of him was immediate, filling you in a way that was both overwhelming and perfect. You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he groaned, his hands steadying you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “You’re doin’ so good.”

You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as you sank down fully, your body adjusting to him. Once you were seated completely, a shudder ran through you, and you let out a breathless moan. Logan’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin as he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through your chest.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice rough with need. “You’re so perfect. Always are.”

Your hands rested on his chest, fingers splayed out over the hard muscle beneath them. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, even as your own raced. You shifted your hips experimentally, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him and a soft gasp from yourself as the movement sent a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “You feel…”

“Yeah?” he prompted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath your breasts. “Tell me, sweetheart. How’s it feel?”

You couldn’t stop the flush that spread across your cheeks, but you managed to meet his gaze. “It’s… so good,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

A lazy grin spread across his face, his hands returning to your hips to guide you. “That’s what I wanna hear. Now, c’mon, darlin’. Move for me.”

You nodded, your hands pressing into his chest for leverage as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him as you rose. The sensation was almost too much, and a soft whimper escaped you before you sank back down, drawing a deep groan from Logan. His grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin as he helped guide your movements.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Nice and slow. Let me feel you.”

You fell into a rhythm, your movements steady but deliberate, each roll of your hips sending waves of pleasure through both of you. Logan’s hands never left your body, roaming up your sides and back down to your thighs, his touch grounding you. His gaze stayed fixed on you, drinking in every gasp, every tremble, every hitch of your breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Always are, but like this? Can’t get enough of you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and your movements became more insistent, your body seeking more. Logan groaned, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours, the new angle sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you cry out.

“Logan!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice strained but full of encouragement. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, each one seeming to spur him on. His hands slid up your back, pulling you down toward him until your chest pressed against his. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, making you shiver.

“Logan,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I… I can’t…”

“You can,” he insisted, his voice a low growl. “And you will. Just let me take care of you.”

He shifted, sitting up and keeping you in his lap, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. The new position allowed him to thrust up into you more deeply, and you gasped, your head falling to his shoulder as the intensity overwhelmed you.

“Oh, God,” you breathed, your nails digging into his back. “Logan…”

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re doin’ so good. Feels so damn good.”

You clung to him, your movements becoming more frantic as the tension in your body built higher and higher. Logan’s hands roamed your back and hips, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging gently before releasing it and moving back to your neck.

Logan’s teeth grazed along the side of your neck, his stubble scratching your skin in a way that sent tingles through your entire body. He kissed the spot just below your ear, a soft, almost reverent press of lips that contrasted with the heat pooling in your core.

Your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching as his hips shifted beneath you, his length pressing even deeper. The slow, deliberate grind of his movements made your thighs tighten around him, the tension building with every second.

“Mmm,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm. “You’re so damn perfect, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of you.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and you tilted your head to give him more access to your neck. “Logan, please…” you said, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hazel eyes dark and filled with something raw. “What’s it, darlin’? You wanna tell me what you need?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing. You’d been married long enough that you shouldn’t feel shy, but Logan always had a way of undoing you with a single look.

He smirked, his hands sliding to your hips, holding you steady. “C’mon now, use your words. Tell your husband what he can do for you.”

“I need you to…” Your voice faltered for a moment before you found the courage to continue. “I need you to move.”

Logan’s grin softened, a tenderness slipping into his expression even as his grip on your hips tightened. “Yeah, sweetheart. I got you.”

His hands flexed on your waist, steadying you as he shifted beneath you. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you. Without warning, he leaned forward, wrapping an arm securely around your back. You gasped softly, your arms automatically circling his shoulders as he maneuvered you with effortless strength, lowering you gently onto your back.

“Logan,” you began, your voice a mix of surprise and warmth.

“Easy, darlin’,” he interrupted, his lips quirking up into a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t you say this was the best way?”

Your cheeks burned as you recalled the countless articles and studies you’d pored over in the past six months, each one dissecting the optimal positions, timings, and conditions. He’d teased you about it before, but there was no judgment in his tone now—just a gentle reminder of how deeply he’d paid attention.

“I… yeah,” you admitted quietly, your hands brushing against his chest as he settled himself above you.

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hazel eyes tracing every line of your face. “Figured I’d give my scientist wife what she wants,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You laughed, the sound breathy and a little shaky. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm, you love it,” he countered, his lips finding yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. His tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet sound from your throat. When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his breath warm against your lips. “This okay?”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging gently. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “It’s perfect.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer as he shifted, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. The movement pressed him deeper, and you gasped, your hands tightening in his hair. He groaned softly, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder for a moment. “Jesus, Y/N…”

Your hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you arched up to meet him. “Logan,” you murmured, the sound of his name spurring him on.

His hands found yours, intertwining your fingers and pinning them on either side of your head. The weight of his hands, the way his body pressed into yours, sent a rush of heat through you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough and low.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he pulled back slightly before pressing into you again, the motion deliberate and unhurried. It wasn’t frantic or rushed—it was steady, purposeful, the weight of every movement making your body hum with pleasure.

“God,” you breathed, your head tilting back against the pillow. “Logan…”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. “Right here, darlin’.” His pace picked up slightly, the rhythm just enough to make your toes curl. He squeezed your hands gently, his thumbs brushing against your knuckles. “Keep lookin’ at me, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice soft but commanding.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there took your breath away—a mix of love, desire, and something deeper that made your chest tighten. “Logan,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.

“I know,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know, Y/N.”

He released your hands, his palms sliding down your arms and over your sides. The calloused roughness of his touch sent sparks dancing across your skin. He braced one hand beside your head while the other slipped beneath your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist. The new angle made you cry out softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let me hear you.”

Your body responded instinctively, your hips lifting to meet his movements. The rhythm built gradually, each thrust sending a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Logan’s breaths came heavier, mingling with yours in the small space between you.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped, his voice strained but filled with sincerity. “Always have been.”

A soft laugh escaped you, though it was broken by a gasp as he shifted his weight slightly. “You… you’re biased,” you managed, your voice breathless.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Damn right I am. But it’s still true.”

Logan’s hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he kissed you again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, matching the rhythm of his movements. Your hands slid down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he worked to keep his control.

“Logan,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling with need.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours as he paused for a moment. His hazel eyes searched yours, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Never,” he promised, his voice low and filled with conviction. “Not for anything.”

He resumed his movements, his pace increasing slightly as the tension between you built. Your breaths mingled, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony. Every brush of his skin against yours, every shift of his hips, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.

Your hands slid to his face, cupping his jaw as you pulled him down for another kiss. The connection between you felt electric, every touch, every sound magnified by the depth of your emotions. Logan groaned against your lips, his grip on your thigh tightening as his movements became more insistent.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, his voice rough and filled with emotion. “Always have been.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, your mind too clouded with sensation. Instead, you let your body speak for you, your nails dragging lightly down his back as you arched against him. Logan’s lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “Always.”

The tension in your body coiled tighter, every nerve ending alight as Logan drove you closer and closer to the edge. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, each syllable laced with desperation and love. Logan’s own breaths were ragged, his movements becoming less controlled as he followed you into the spiral of pleasure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. “Darlin’… I…”

Whatever he was about to say was lost as the wave of sensation crashed over you, your body tightening around him as you cried out. Logan followed moments later, his body shuddering against yours as he buried his face in your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the sound of your breathing and the rapid thudding of your hearts. Logan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head to meet your gaze. His hazel eyes were warm, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, a tired but genuine smile spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not done holding you yet.”

---

As you poured over your large desk calendar, carefully reviewing the neat little markings you’d made to track your cycle, one thing became clear—you were late. Just by two days, but late nonetheless. Your stomach twisted slightly at the realization. It wasn’t panic, but an odd mix of hope and trepidation.

Logan was out for the day, helping Bobby with reconnaissance in the field. You had the mansion’s lab all to yourself, for now, save for the soft hum of the equipment around you. You stared at the calendar for a moment longer before exhaling sharply, closing it.

Footsteps echoed softly down the corridor outside your lab. The familiar red-haired figure appeared a moment later, her bright smile a welcome sight. Jean always seemed to have a knack for showing up when you needed her, whether or not you realized it.

“Hey,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, her green eyes warm. “Mind if I come in?”

You shook your head, offering her a faint smile. “Not at all.”

She stepped inside, glancing around before narrowing her gaze playfully. “Alright, what’s got you so deep in thought that you didn’t even hear me walking up?”

You hesitated. Jean was one of your closest friend—someone you trusted implicitly—but the thought of saying it aloud made your cheeks warm. You busied yourself tidying a few loose papers on your desk.

“It’s nothing,” you said lightly, though your tone betrayed you.

Jean arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Y/N. I know you too well for that.”

You sighed, sitting back in your chair and fiddling with the edges of your sleeves. “I realized… I’m late.”

It took a beat, but comprehension dawned on her face. “Oh.” Her voice softened immediately. “You mean…”

You nodded. “By two days.”

Jean moved closer, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. Her tone remained calm and supportive, but her expression was curious. “Have you told Logan yet?”

“No. I just figured it out this morning, and he’s out with Bobby.” You shook your head, pushing up your glasses. “And honestly, I’m not even sure I’m… y’know. I don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. “Fair. But, what’s the harm in knowing? Have you taken a test yet?”

“No. I haven’t exactly worked up the nerve,” you admitted, managing a wry smile. “Besides, I don’t even have one.”

Her lips quirked into a smile of her own. “Alright. Why don’t we go grab one now? It’ll give you some company, and we can grab lunch afterward. My treat.”

The suggestion caught you off guard, but the idea of not facing the store alone—and spending some time with Jean—was surprisingly appealing. You gave her a grateful look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you started.

“I know,” she interrupted gently, standing and reaching for your hand. “But I want to. Come on, get your coat.”

You hesitated a moment longer before standing, sliding into your coat and scarf. Jean smiled encouragingly, and you followed her out of the lab, glad for the distraction.

---

The two of you walked into the drugstore, the bright fluorescent lights making the shelves gleam. Jean glanced over at you as you lingered near the door.

“Alright, where to?” she asked, her teasing smile disarming any awkwardness you might’ve felt.

You motioned vaguely toward the pharmacy section, hesitating for a moment before finally heading down the appropriate aisle. Jean walked beside you like a fortress, keeping her presence casual but protective.

Reaching the section with pregnancy tests, you froze slightly. The sheer number of options was overwhelming—digital, non-digital, early detection, the works. Jean followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh.

“Who knew it was so complicated, huh?” she said, reaching out to grab one of the boxes. “This one looks straightforward. What do you think?”

You nodded, relieved she was taking the reins. She handed you the box, and you managed to keep your expression neutral as you tucked it under your arm.

Once at the checkout, Jean casually chatted with you about physics lectures, cutting through any tension. If the clerk gave you an odd look as they rang up the test, you were too focused on Jean’s lighthearted commentary to notice.

---

After getting back to the mansion and successfully avoiding the test for hours, you found yourself pacing your shared bedroom, the unopened box mocking you from the desk. Every time you thought you were ready, your nerves got the better of you.

Logan would be back soon, and the last thing you wanted was to be caught mid-test, especially if it turned out to be a false alarm. Not to mention, you weren’t even sure how to feel yet. Hopeful? Nervous?

You finally let out a frustrated groan, swiping the box off the desk and heading for the bathroom. Best to just get it over with.

Jean had offered to stay and wait with you, but you’d insisted you were fine. She’d left with a knowing smile and a promise to check in on you later.

The knot in your stomach tightened as you sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the pregnancy test still untouched on the counter. You didn’t even realize how tightly you were gripping the edge of the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. For months, you’d been doing everything you could to plan, track, and optimize, but now, faced with the moment of truth, it felt… terrifying.

Still, you’d promised yourself you’d do this today. “Just get it over with,” you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the edge of the tub and grabbing one of the small sterile cups Jean had handed you earlier. You couldn’t help but smile briefly at her thoughtfulness—of course, she’d come prepared.

Steeling yourself, you slipped into autopilot mode, getting everything in place as clinically as possible. You focused on the steps, trying to push away the weight of your emotions. But when you glanced down after finishing, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t the pale pink lines on the pregnancy test that greeted you. It was bright red.

Your heart plummeted as the realization hit. You didn’t even need the test anymore.

The wave of disappointment was immediate and sharp, crashing over you before you even had time to process it. You felt frozen for a moment, staring blankly at the stark evidence in front of you. All the charts, the vitamins, the careful planning—none of it mattered. Not this time, at least.

You sat back down on the edge of the tub and pressed your hands to your face. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. It wasn’t the end of the world, you reminded yourself. You and Logan had only been trying for six months. There was still time.

But the hope you’d been holding onto—nurturing like a fragile spark—felt snuffed out in an instant.

---

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you meant to, staring at the sink as your thoughts swirled. When you finally managed to gather yourself enough to leave, the sun had dipped lower, casting warm orange light into the bedroom. The clock on the nightstand read 6:17 PM.

Logan would be back soon.

The thought of seeing him was equal parts comforting and daunting. You knew he wouldn’t blame you or be upset, but the weight of letting him down—of letting yourself down—pressed heavily on your chest.

You busied yourself cleaning up, discarding the unused test and tucking away the box in the bathroom cabinet. By the time you emerged, you had forced your expression into something neutral, though you felt anything but calm.

---

The rumble of Logan’s motorcycle echoed through the driveway not long after, and you instinctively straightened in your chair, fiddling with the edge of the smaller version of your calendar you’d been pretending to review.

When the door opened, Logan’s presence filled the room like always, his familiar scent and the soft creak of his boots against the floor grounding you. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair, his hazel eyes immediately finding yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and warm. His gaze softened as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “You alright? You look tired.”

You managed a small smile, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine. Just a long day.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “You sure?”

You nodded quickly, but soon your eyes started to burn again, and you shook your head, unable to keep up the facade. Logan’s brow furrowed as his hand slid from your cheek to rest lightly on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, concerned.

You tried to speak, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Instead, you gave a small shake of your head and looked down, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose as you avoided his gaze. Logan crouched in front of you, his hands finding yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Hey,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “Talk to me.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands tightening around his as you finally forced yourself to say the words, even if they came out in sobs and jumbles. “I thought—I thought maybe this time, but… it’s not. I’m not.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and Logan’s grip on your hands tightened just enough to steady you. He didn’t say anything at first, letting you cry, his thumbs brushing softly over your knuckles.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice rough with concern. He moved to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke down the last of your walls, and you clung to him, your face pressed against his chest as the sobs came harder.

“I—I thought I felt different this time,” you murmured against his shirt, your voice muffled. “I was so sure. And then…” You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence.

Logan rested his chin on the top of your head, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t have to hold it in with me.”

You nodded against his chest, even as fresh tears welled up. “It just—it feels like I failed. Like we’re doing everything right, and it still doesn’t matter.”

“You didn’t fail,” Logan said firmly, his voice steady and low. He pulled back enough to tilt your chin up so you’d look at him. His hazel eyes were soft but intense, focused entirely on you. “This ain’t on you. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want, even when we’re doin’ everything we’re supposed to. Doesn’t mean it’s over. We’ll keep tryin’, together.”

“But what if—what if it never happens?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he took a moment before answering. “Then we’ll figure it out, sweetheart. We always do. One way or another, we’ll have the family we’re dreamin’ about. You hear me?”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Logan cupped your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing away the tears. “You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N. We’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else. And we’ll do it together.”

His words eased some of the weight pressing on your chest, and you leaned into his hand, letting out a shaky breath. “I just… I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to hide it.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Logan said. “Don’t ever feel like you gotta deal with this by yourself. I’m here, no matter what, alright?”

You nodded again, and this time the tears that fell were lighter, more cathartic than crushing. Logan leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling you back into his arms.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to sit in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The soft hum of Logan’s steady breathing and the warmth of his embrace grounded you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this.

“I love you,” you murmured after a while, your voice small but steady.

“I love you too, darlin’,” Logan replied without hesitation, his lips brushing against your temple.

The reassurance in his voice settled something inside you, and for the first time since the disappointment had struck, the knot in your chest began to loosen. You weren’t sure what the future held, but as long as Logan was by your side, you knew you could face it.

this is mostly 2006! next chapter will cover the rest of the year!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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khaire-traveler · 10 months ago

Text

🪄 Subtle Hekate Worship🕯️

Donate clothes, food, hygiene products, and the like to homeless shelters

Support food banks and homeless or animal shelters

Visit cemeteries; if allowed (please ask permission first), leave flowers on graves

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal polecat, dog, or toad

Have imagery of torches, crossroads, or magic around

Honor your ancestors; honor any spirits in your life

Volunteer at an animal or homeless shelter

Cook a warm meal for someone in need

Take care of yourself physically

Take a self-care bath/shower, especially those with herbs or candles

Visit a crossroads; walk/hike on paths that have a crossroads and pick the direction that calls to you

Take a walk during the new, half, or full moon (only if it is safe to do so in your area)

Take time to notice the phases of the moon; meditate under each one, and learn their meanings

Start a garden; tend to plants, especially herbs

Study herbalism; study the history of witchcraft

Ground yourself regularly

Include her within spell work, if you do any; practice discreet methods of spell-casting

Learn non-obvious divination methods; cartomancy, pyromancy, carromancy, etc.

Burn incense, if able; frankincense is great

Drink herbal teas; cook with herbs

Practice mindfulness and emotional regulation

Honor your home/space; keep it clean, and make it feel like your own

At the end of each month, cook a good meal and make drinks with added honey

Baking raisin and currant cakes

Practice patience and understanding

Work on your decision-making skills; what do YOU want? What do YOU need? What are YOUR goals/passions?

Making a bonfire; gathering around it, alone or with loved ones

Learning to have more confidence in your decisions and actions; you know what's best for you more than anyone else

I hope this helps someone! I may add to it later on. For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Hekate. Take care, y'all, and have a good day/night. 💜

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#hecate deity #hecate worship #hekate #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #pagan tips #paganblr #deity worship

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aweina · 1 year ago

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Could I request the reverse of your ‘when you catch them staring’ headcannons? And with a lot of teasing from the reader too?

୨୧. heart eyes — mortal kombat one. kameos : sub-zero. scorpion. smoke + johnny cage & raiden

when you catch them staring at you.

bi-han tries to make his staring unnoticeable. with his silver mask blocking away any emotions that he could display, his eyes have become naturally expressive over time. they gleam whenever you pass by him, a foreign softness to them. the permanent scowl is less intense when he takes a moment to memorize details of your face. your eyes captivated him the most — a whirl of emotions so deep set into your irises. he could stare at them for hours on end.

it’s when you asked bi-han to revise tomorrow’s training module, his staring is much more obvious in such a closer proximity. his dull brown eyes look restful, more hazy with warmth that contrasted his deadly cold nature — yet he still looks terrifying, but it could never be helped when it came bi-han, it was his resting face. when you quickly look up for a reply, he realizes all too late that he’s caught, yet his stubbornness tells him not to falter under your gaze as he mentally cursing at himself for his blatant act of staring.

“are you angry at me or is there something on my face?” you quirked an amused brow with a smile, tilting your head cutely.

bi-han just grunted in response, snatching the scroll off your hands and raising it against his face to avoid your teasing gaze — thankful his mask hid his redden cheeks. the grandmaster would have to die of old age before he admits that he admires you from afar. but for now he’ll deal with your relentless teasing.

kuai liang loves to admire beauty whenever he encounters it. the vibrant, pink blossoms grown in wu shi academy always made him smile. the fresh greenery and exotic plants that he cared for always brightened his day. but all those things were incomparable to your beauty and intellect. he loves to watch you fight — even looking past the sweat and messy hair after intense training. he watches you with adoration when you converse with the younger trainees — resilient and beautiful — he thinks.

you tended to him after he comes back from a mission, offering herbal tea and a scenery of his garden under the moonlight. you converse with him, although it’s one sided. kuai liang stares at your lips, soft and pretty — curling into a sweet smile. you notice that his soften eyes were directed on your lips. a rush of heat flowed through your body, how long had he done this for?

“what is so interesting about my lips kuai liang?” you muster the courage to ask, mentally thanking madam bo for gifting you tinted lip balm.

his reaction seemed halted before he realizes he was indeed caught. he chuckled nervously as he propped himself up to turn towards the luminance of the moon. kuai liang was flustered, but when he felt your balmy lips on his cheek, all the shame in his body vanished.

tomas isn’t subtle. at all. he’s very much aware of that, even his brothers and the young trainees tease him for being so smitten at plain sight. even so, he still cannot help but continue to stare at you with a loving daze — nervously fiddling his fingers behind his back. through his daily admiring, tomas came to the conclusion that he loved everything about you. his eyes tend to dart to your bright eyes, soft lips, pretty hair, and silky skin.

when you’re accompanying him with his training, cheering and playfully applauding at the younger ninjas dueling in an tense battle. the action playing before tomas was lost in time. it was blurry, silent, unmoving but all he could see is you — manipulating this time stop in his mind with your raw radiance. then his eyes widen when you met his gaze and suddenly he’s panicking. with trained speed, he’s now looking down at his feet, whistling a broken tune.

“this is the third time i’ve caught you staring, you know that right?” you mused, uncontrollably giggling when tomas nods in flustered acknowledgment.

tomas looks up from his feet and sighs in defeat. even caught another time, he’ll still take the opportunity to look at the scene before him — your cheerful grin and gleaming eyes. if his staring problem can make you this happy, he doesn’t see why he should ever stop.

johnny cage is a shameless man. he loves to flirt and proudly embrace his failed attempts at flirting. eye contact is key, he believes. a very effective technique to swoon others and an act of intimacy without touching. johnny loves to stare at you, in hopes of meeting your eye and share a perfectly cliche romantic movie experience. but with your oblivious nature, he hasn’t been successful just yet. although he learned that he loved your smile — instead of his usual attraction to anything below the face.

mindlessly wondering around the fire temple, johnny finds you sitting on the stairs while reading a rather thick looking book. he immediately joins your side, flashing a white smile as he enthusiastically boast about his acting career. even if your eyes aren’t on him, to much to his disappointment, you acknowledged every word and responded in interest. then he gradually stops talking until he’s mute and you grow concerned.

“johnny, did you fall asleep?” your brows furrowed as you turned to him, his head resting on his knee.

with his frosty blue lens, you couldn’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. slowly, you took the frames off his face and flinch in shock. his eyes were wide open, staring at yours with unfamiliar intensity for a moment. then you smile and turn away flustered. finally! he made eye contact and was rewarded with your beautiful smile. johnny’s hollywood charm works … most of the time.

raiden is clueless when it comes to his staring problem. he doesn’t mean to stare half the time, it was a force of habit — automatic admiration. you were simply bewitching, even in simple attire that was paired with a stained apron. his eyes are big and soft when he looks at you, even so when he talks about you. it could take kung lao screaming in his ear for raiden to snap out of his enchanted state. he promises himself to be more subtle, and so he did.

you’re pacing around the tea house, serving refreshments with impressive finesse while warmly conversing with the local villagers. under his straw hat, raiden watches you intently — noticing the loose stands fall on your face as it tickles your neck. your soft hair frames your face perfectly, dancing through the air like silk in the wind — one of your most beautiful features. under a smitten daze, he doesn’t notice how your body is much closer and how your voice was much clearer, soothing his ears.

“it’s okay to call me over for a chat raiden, i don’t bite.” you jested as you tilted his hat back with a finger, meeting his eager gaze.

he’s blushing now, beet red. a nervous laugh escaped his lips as his eyes averted to the side — caught in the act. you only adoringly smile at him, leaving the check on his table as you tend to another customer. another friendly interaction, raiden thinks. but when he looks at the check, a small heart and the time you’re off work was written on the parchment. his cheeks suddenly hurt from smiling too hard, he couldn’t wait. but for now, he’ll kill time by watching you from afar.

#.୨୧ ina writes #smoke x reader #subzero x reader #scorpion x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #kuai liang x reader #bi han x reader #johnny cage x reader #raiden x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader

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nottswitch · 1 month ago

Text

— if you’ve been nice, you get…

───────────── 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. ─

summary: in the midst of the second wizarding war, you have to go into hiding at mattheo’s insistence – he knows his father will be looking for you. however, on christmas eve he pays you an unexpected yet very welcome visit

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

cw: 18+ smut, established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, creampie, nipple play, praise, cursing

wc: 1.6k

a/n: another ‘nice’ one with mattheo <3 i just love vulnerable and needy matty, what can i say.

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

────────────────────────

The sounds of the winter night were barely existent as you gazed into the window, the empty plain shimmering underneath the silvery moon hanging in the sky. It had been a while – a long, long while since you’d seen any type of civilization, stuck in the middle of nowhere, between a dense, howling forest and a vast plain of nothingness. Your cabin wasn’t bad – Mattheo wouldn’t just shove you anywhere, he’d always make sure you had as much comfort as the situation would allow it. But the cozy bed felt empty without the weight of his body, the heat of the fireplace felt cold without his body’s warmth next to you, the herbal tea was bitter and disgustingly diluted with no one to share it with.

Christmas Eve was supposed to be fun, a celebration of joy in preparation for the big feast. Instead, you felt the ever-consuming numbness, a hole in your chest that couldn’t be filled without Mattheo’s presence in your life. It had been impossibly hard, your life a mere hollow existence with no curly head, no infuriatingly charming smirk, no endlessly dark eyes in sight. But you persevered – you knew Mattheo cared about your safety and was doing it simply out of love, the thought of which carried you through the dull sequence of days.

A sudden knock on the door jolted you out of your thoughts, your senses instantly alerted. Your hand was immediately on your wand as you crept towards the front door of the cabin, your footsteps light and quiet. A slight creak of the handle being turned, and your face was peeking out of the crack, along with the tip of your wand. Your eyes widened in disbelief, taking in a very familiar face that you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing in at least two weeks. It couldn’t have been…?

“The place where we first kissed?”

“Third floor, behind the tapestry, your pretty little body pressed against the wall.”

Mattheo’s voice was as low as you remembered, slightly shaking from the excitement he was trying to contain within the bounds of his chest. Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, making that adorable dimple pop out in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Took you to a broom closet right after.”

A sigh escaped your lips, a smile spreading there – a reaction you could never help whenever he teased you. It really was him.

“Matty…”

“Shh, baby. Actions…”

The door was roughly yanked open, Mattheo’s eyes roaming all over your features, unmistakable desire and longing written all over his rugged yet still devilishly handsome face.

“Speak louder than words.”

The next moment, his lips were on yours, sliding, biting and sucking, his tongue easily slipping inside and claiming the warmth he’d been desperately craving for so, so long – two weeks without you seemed like two eternities. The sound of the door shutting and locking behind him was drowned out by your gasp, flowing into a moan as Mattheo’s hands glided over your body, one of them ending up firmly gripping your ass while the other one started eagerly kneading the flesh of your tits.

“Fuck, baby girl…” he whispered against your lips as he walked you back towards the couch, lowering you onto the plush surface and pressing you into the soft fabric. “Missed your perfect body so much.”

You couldn’t, and didn’t plan on holding back soft moans and whimpers as he started peppering kisses down your neck, his lips wet and messy from the kiss you had just shared, yet his movements were slow in contrast. He was savouring each and every inch of you, lifting up and tossing away your – actually, his – sweatshirt in the process, the barrier between your skin completely unnecessary. Mattheo hummed, the sound filled with shameless satisfaction, when he found out you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Waiting for me, huh?” he murmured, drinking in the sight of your perked up nipples for a good moment before lowering his head. His lips found the small mound, wrapping around it as his tongue swirled and lapped, lavishing your nipple with attention. Your fingers gently threaded through his messy, borderline wild curls, slightly damp from the snowflakes that landed there minutes ago. Mattheo’s eyes fluttered shut, his need for you increasing tenfold – the feeling of your stiff nipple in his mouth was a delightful mix with the dearly missed pressure of your nails on his scalp, sending small tingles of pleasure straight into his hardening cock.

“I’m always waiting for you,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling from the sensations his skillful tongue was bringing you. Mattheo hummed again, pulling away just to attach his lips to your other nipple. His hands were now on your hips, playing with the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers dipping underneath to caress your soft skin.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the fullness of your breast in his mouth. “My good girl.”

The praise echoed in your lower abdomen, anticipation starting to coil like a spring. You’d been missing his touch, his hands, his everything for weeks – two weeks, basically, ages – and you could barely hold on, your thighs clenching around his waist. Mattheo chuckled lightly, feeling the pressure around him tightening, and he just knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. This knowledge only served to heighten his arousal, his hips starting to grind into you at a slow, sensual pace. His cock throbbed in his jeans, eager to be freed and slip inside of you that very moment.

Reluctantly detaching himself from your tits, Mattheo took off his own shirt, pressing his torso against yours right after. The contact of your skin against his made you shiver, your hands sliding down to roam all over his chest and abs. His body felt so familiar, so right to the touch, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that somehow, you managed to survive without feeling it every single day. You didn’t want to – if you could, you’d spend every waking moment with him glued to your side.

“You’re driving me crazy, love,” Mattheo hissed against the skin of your neck, his lips going back to covering it with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He finally pulled your sweatpants down, discarding them onto the floor along with your underwear, his jeans and boxers joining them in a second. Without any more barriers between you, you could feel the heat of his cock against your dripping center, your entrance already squeezing at the excitement of what was to come.

“I want you, baby,” you nearly moaned out, feeling his hands grabbing your thighs to spread them further apart.

“Want you too, sweet girl,” he answered, his lips moving up, along your jawline, before finding yours again. As he kissed you, passion blending in with tenderness and affection, his fingers closed around the base of his length, his aching tip teasing through your folds. “Gonna make you feel so good… Gonna fill you all up…”

With that, he pushed inside, his cock stretching you out in a way that you missed so much. You moaned into his mouth, clutching at his back – you knew you were going to leave scratch marks, and Mattheo also knew he was going to wear them with pride. He started moving, his tip prodding at your cervix, the slight pain quickly overridden with pleasure. Your naked bodies were completely tangled together, the couch creaking slightly under the steady movements of your sweaty forms. The faint glow of the fireplace casted flickering shadows onto your faces, your eyes connected in a loving, yearning stare-off.

Your hand came up to cradle Mattheo’s cheek, tracing soft circles into his skin as your eyes momentarily closed, savouring each moment of closeness you could get from him. Your lips parted in quiet whines and moans, Mattheo’s cock hitting all the right spots inside of you to bring you closer and closer to the long-awaited edge. A small smile graced his expression as he took in the sight of you, flushed and lost in bliss – just like he wanted you, like he always wanted you, not a hint of worry on your pretty face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice ever so slightly hoarse, his own pleasure building up and up and up with each deep, slow thrust. “You close, baby?”

You could only nod, your stomach starting to flutter at the anticipation of being pushed over the edge.

“Come on, love. Cum for me,” he gently urged you. He craved to see you come undone underneath him, the longing he’d been wallowing in tugging at his chest – he couldn’t imagine leaving you after this, even though he knew he had to; unfortunately, he didn’t have much time. “Cum for me, like a good girl…”

And you did. The wave of pleasure wasn’t sudden – it was warm and sweet, carrying you into the joyful world where only the two of you existed, Mattheo’s name falling from your lips a soft caress in his ear. It took his entire restraint not to fall over with you, his grunts growing a bit louder as he rode out your orgasm, his whole body buzzing, getting ready for his own.

“Gonna fill you up now, baby,” he breathlessly whispered, his dampened forehead resting against yours, his movements getting sloppier. “Gonna leave you something to remember me, yeah?”

You gave him another small nod, your form still trembling in the aftershocks of your peak. One more push, and Mattheo was spilling deep into you, the heat of his seed warming you up from the inside. He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath, his hands mindlessly skimming over the soft skin of your hips.

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him with your half-lidded eyes, unbridled affection swimming in their depths. Mattheo let out a chuckle, his adoring gaze meeting yours.

“Love you too, baby girl,” he echoed, a soft kiss landing on your forehead. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

#— witch’s works ☾#— naughty & nice ☾#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys fic

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astrolovecosmos · 2 months ago

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Heavy Water Charts: Balance this out with plenty of exercise, avoiding junk food, drink more herbal tea, flute music or instrumental songs, push yourself to be more social, pay attention to what lifts your energy levels and spirit, and focus more on self-motivation, discipline, and logic.

Heavy Earth Charts: Balance this out with sleeping less or avoiding too much laziness and unproductivity (still of course get a healthy amount of sleep), exercise often, try spicy foods, take more action, try sports or games that involve fast reflexes, stimulate your senses, and watch out for negative thoughts.

Heavy Air Charts: Balance this out with drinking plenty of water, incorporate herbal teas, take your vitamins, take hot or steam baths, use a humidifier, massage with oils, exercise or walk outside more often, be sure to stay warm in cold weather, be mindful of sleep habits, and practice more discipline and routine.

Heavy Fire Charts: Balance this out by watching how easily or often you overheat - keep the body cooler, stay hydrated, incorporate more sweet or mild foods to a healthy extent, don't skip your doctor visits, watch your blood pressure and anger, and put a lot of thought into your perfume, cologne, or deodorant.

#elements #earth #air #water #fire #fire signs #water signs #earth signs #air signs #zodiac #astrology #zodiac signs #natal chart

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ohimsummer · 1 year ago

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COLD SHOULDER ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

—minors dni, dubcon, oral [f. receiving], bully!satosugu x fem! reader, nipple play, groping, kissing, fingering, clit stimulation, one pussy slap, pet names (princess, pretty (girl), baby, sweetheart, puppy), implied penetration at the end

wc 2.2k

It’s obvious that someone like Gojo feeds off your reactions. He tugs at your hair so you yell at him, gets in your face until you’re forced to push him away, and he loves, loves, loves, the back and forth bickering for those truly vile insults you always sling his way. He’s just obsessed with little ol’ you. Barely at height with his chest, can’t move him an inch even with your sturdiest push, and yet you remain combative to Gojo’s every action. Until you’re not.

“You know she’s been giving me the silent treatment these past few days?” The warm feel of Gojo’s breath skims the shell of your ear, warmth pooling in your core while you shrivel deeper into Geto’s chest. Gojo runs a tongue over your earlobe, and pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, white brows upturned into a sad pout, before whining, “I mean really, what’s a guy gotta do for a pretty girl’s attention around here?”

Your eyesight darts to anything else in whoever’s bedroom this is, hoping to find some kind of distraction to take your mind off of these two. Gojo’s hot, heavy pants are loud over the stifled bump of music in the main area, piercing shrieks and cheers of drunk and crazed partygoers who are none the wiser to your current dilemma. Large, curious hands wander beneath your skirt, toying with the snug waistband of your panties. Geto’s firm hold keeps your wrists bound at the curve of your back, leaving you at the fiendish mercy of his white-haired friend.

“Just look at you, all pretty and dolled up.,” Gojo hums, lips lingering over your neck as he inhales your scent, before teeth sink in to add another purplish mark on your skin. “Can’t keep my hands off ya, princess.”

You want to lash out at him, bite back with the heinous album of comments that have been building on your tongue, hopefully enough to bruise his massive ego. Or tell him to get the hell off of you and keep his filthy hands out of your space. And he knows it, Gojo can recognize that familiar look of fury in your eyes, and he just adores how you so stubbornly keep biting your tongue. The stronger your efforts, the higher his yearning to hear just a single word from you.

“Still tryin’ to ignore us?,” Geto chuckles into the crown of your head. “Shame, I love the sound of that pretty voice.” He fidgets under you, grinding himself against your ass, an intoxicating, herbal smell of drugs wafting off of him. “C’mon, Satoru, make our little puppy bark.”

“Gladly”, Gojo remarks, eyebrows wiggling at you before two fingers skim dangerously close to your core. A shiver runs through you as Gojo mashes firm fingers to your cunt, prodding at your throbbing entrance through your panties, rubbing them over your pussy and coating your underwear in slick. Your lips quiver, legs desperately moving to close but they’re hooked over his friend’s knees, and Gojo licks his lips at your response. He casts a glance over your shoulder, likely at Geto, before moving up an inch to your aching clit.

“Ha, you’re fuckin’ soaked.,” he laughs teasingly, pulling at the crotch of your panties and watching the dripping strings of fluid connect back to your cunt, before letting the fabric snap back into place. “Actin’ all tough, pff, whatever.”

The words ‘shut up’ graze the tip of your tongue, just begging to be said, but you refuse to give in. That’s all they, especially Gojo, want. To get some kind of vehement reaction from you, and you won’t allow them the pleasure. Not when Geto eases a hand up your shirt to free your tits from your bra, and not even when Gojo begins sliding your underwear down your legs.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on the plump flesh, eyes narrowing at the sight of your panties disappearing into Gojo’s pockets before he spreads your thighs even wider. Heat rushes to your face at the knowledge that your pussy is practically on display for him. His twinkling blue eyes flicker over your glistening cunt, playful as Gojo leans in to plant rough kisses and nips over the expanse of your thighs. He spreads the drenched lips of your pussy, taking in the way you tighten and squeeze in a plea to be filled, before poking an index finger at your hole. His finger sinks right in, swallowed by your wet, greedy cunt up to his knuckle before he wiggles it around inside you. Geto takes note of your hitched breathing, how your wrists defy his grip in an effort for freedom. You catch winks of flowing black next to you, almost blending in with the dark shadows of this room, before you hear his voice low in your ear:

“Feel good, darling?”, Geto studies the flutter of your lids as his friend drives shallow thrusts into you. A long, needy whine breaks free, and he huffs a small laugh. “Mm, I know.”

Gojo sighs,“Fuck…”, totally awestruck at the way his large digit just disappears amidst the gumminess of your drooling walls. He retreats from your entrance, and both you and Geto can clearly tell he’s in love with the way your slick coats and drips down his finger. A steady fire blooms across every inch of your skin as Gojo takes the messy finger in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor of you on his tongue. He savors the taste, eyes never leaving your own, and you watch as Gojo thoroughly licks the finger clean.

“Wanna taste?,” he asks when he’s done, pink tongue darting over his lips. “Or is that gross?”

He laughs at the scowl that forms on your face. You hate how Gojo somehow reads you so well, knows you’d call him disgusting and a pervert for what he just did. Hate how, if he didn’t know before, he definitely knows now that this is turning you on, if the way you leak fluids all down your thighs and this wooden dresser is any indication.

Geto’s pinch of your nipple acts as a distraction, pulling your attention back to his feverish, one-handed assault of your breasts. His fist clenches around your wrists, and you feel the hardness of Geto’s erection on your ass when he rolls his hips against you again.

“Mph!,” you barely stifle a whimper when Gojo lands a slap on your pussy, wetness spraying onto his flushed face. The way these two keep yanking your focus in every direction has your head dizzy.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you. “Oh, what was that? Wanna speak up, princess?”

You give a desperate shake of your head, struggling to control the heave of your breathes as he begins massaging your clit under his thumb. “You sure?” And when you glare down at him, he shrugs. “Alright, then!”

Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, tracing over you one last time, and takes your pulsating clit between his lips, a loud whine catching in your throat as Gojo gives you a harsh suck. Head falling back over Geto’s shoulder, you arch away from his body, toes curling as Gojo laps and suckles onto the aching bud. Your jaw clenches, whimpering noises bubbling up your throat as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you can’t help the few moans and mewls that break free.

“Ah, there it is, those sweet sounds.,” Geto muses, squeezing your wrists again in warning before releasing his grip on you. He’s pleased when you make no effort to fight back, muttering a ‘good girl’ with a pinch to your ass and trails his newly free hand up the expanse of your throat. Giving it a light squeeze, he kisses the roundness of your cheek, faintly rubbing a thumb over the tensed skin of your neck, and pulls your lips towards him. Your lids flutter open a crack, blurry image of Geto’s defined features overrunning your vision, before the soft feel of his lips covers your mind in a thick fog. Without your hands or a bruising bite to stifle yourself, the noise of your high-pitched cries easily begin to flood the room, a satisfying melody for both their ears.

“Can’t keep it in anymore, pretty?,” Gojo’s muffled taunt reaches from between your thighs, vibrations of his voice on your clit sending a twitch throughout your legs.

You can’t see him, only the mess of white hairs from the corner of your vision, but you can feel the penetration of his tongue, how it traces the surface of your walls, determined to mark every inch within reach. He uses thick fingers to bully your pulsating clit with rough circles and sharp pinches, rolling the hardened nub in his mouth between laps and broad strokes of his tongue, all of which easily drive out loud, needy whines you couldn’t even hope to hold back anymore.

“Keep making those lovely sounds, darling.” Geto moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue before biting at your bottom lip. “Show Satoru how good he’s making you feel.”

Hot pants brush over your pussy, but Gojo continues his abuse of your clit. “Yeah, baby, talk to me, hm?”

The words, whether they were praise or an insult, because at this point you don’t know, get stuck in your throat, leaving room for only a choked sob to fall out as your hips mindlessly rut against Satoru’s fingers. Geto tightens his fist around your throat, leaving you struggling for already difficult breathes, his fingers still pinching and tugging at the pebbled skin of your nipples. The warmth in your abdomen has blossomed into a raging fire, muscles spasming as you gasp against Geto’s face, curses of ‘f–fuck–!’ and ‘shit!’ leaving your kiss-swollen lips at the sensation of your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Hey, princess…,” Gojo catches your half-lidded gaze, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Better talk to me or you don’t get to cum, got it?”

You twist your lips in a scowl, mind too dizzy but you know he means what he says, and you think you’d pass out and die if he took your orgasm from you when you were so close. He’s such an asshole, of course he’d hold your orgasm ransom just to get a few half-baked remarks out of you. Gojo's eyes peer into your own, head slightly tilted as he watches you weigh the options in your mind.

“F–,” he raises a brow expectantly, azure eyes widening in anticipation, trained on your lips as you hesitate on your words. “Fuck you, Gojo.”

And you’d think someone had just offered him all the money in the world the way his eyes light up, gleaming cerulean blues that crease under the giant grin on his face.

“Ah!,” he teases, shortly relishing in the moan you let out as he stuffs a third finger into your cunt. “There it is! Been dyin’ to say that to me all day, haven’t ya?”

You try and focus on something else, anything else to drown out his incessant mockery. But all that’s on your mind is Geto’s tongue down your throat, and his strong hand restricting your airflow, and Gojo still talking as his fingers curl to press into that spongy spot inside you–

“S–Satoru!,” you cry out, legs quaking as the coil in your tummy snaps, and your pussy gushes around his fingers.

Gojo stares, thoroughly bewitched by the way his name fell off your lips, and the cum drooling from your pussy, remnants of it dripping down his face and embedding into his clothes. “Holy shit…”He absentmindedly runs his thumb over the mess of your still-spasming cunt, barely taking in when you jolt under his touch.

“Stop it, Gojo, ‘m sensitive.,” you murmur between Geto's softened, sporadic kisses.

Your voice draws his attention, and suddenly Gojo is extremely aware of the aching hardness between his legs. He reaches down to palm at himself, hissing at the press of his hand against the bulge, before standing up from his kneeled position.

“Just look what you did, got me stiff as shit down here.,” Gojo huffs, undoing his pants to allow his cock some much-needed air.

You watch, dumbstruck, as the large appendage springs free. Even in the dim light of this room, you can see the redness of his tip, dick bobbing, precum dribbling down the length of it as Gojo takes a step closer, lining himself up with your entrance before rubbing up and down your slit.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you wriggle, only accomplishing to rub your sensitive clit against the head of his cock and Gojo sighs out a breath. “I-I said–!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya.,” he interjects, rubbing two hands over your thighs. Gojo takes the back of your knees, holding your legs up higher to essentially fold you in half, and presses his hips forward, watching your cunt threaten to swallow his tip. “Maybe it’s good that you’re all sensitive, now. Might get ya talking some more for us, no?”

You angrily narrow your eyes at him, whining at the burn of his fat tip stretching you out. “No.”

And Gojo’s smirk widens. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

#satosugu x reader #bully!satosugu #bully satosugu #satoru gojo smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satosugu x reader smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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