#all in my head anthology

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

The Scientific Method

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: just a bunch of ritual things, there's mention of blood and reader cuts their hand open

Genre: angst/fluff

Summary: They are determined to go through with this mind link and you have to do everything in your power to protect them

***

You groan to yourself as you shut yet another old heavy grimoire. The more you try to research this dammed ritual the more you feel like your head this close to exploding. You're overwhelmed trying to sort through conflicting information, unclear instructions, and a seemingly never-ending list of cautions. Several times over the last few hours you debated if it'd be easier to change their minds than go through with this. The knock at your apartment door shocks you so much you practically jump out of your skin. With a sigh, you stand from your desk and walk to the door. When you open the door you barely register your boyfriend standing there, your eyes trying to recover from combing over walls of text all day.

"Hello love." Steven smiles at you.

"Hi baby, what brings you over?" You ask stretching.

"It's movie night." He frowns.

"Right! Shit, is it time already?" You shake your head.

"How could you forget?" He chuckles.

"Well someone wants so badly to risk their sanity I've been doing research all day to protect this silly individual. Lost track of time I guess."

"You've been doing research on it?"

"Of course I have. If I'm going to do this insanely dangerous ritual I need to know it so well you'd think I was there upon its creation." You say.

"What have you found out?" He asks.

"I'm sitll sifting through it, there's possibly a potion involved-"

"Well you can put a pin in it for now, because it's movie night." Steven grabs you by the shoulders and leads you to your couch to sit you down.

"I'm just worried there's some time sensitivity aspect I'm missing. Something this complex probably requires very specific circumstances in order to have even a chance of being successful. Like what if it can only be done during a solar eclipes, or when all the fucking planets are aligned or-"

"Baby you don't have to work it out all at once, we're not in a rush, plus we trust you. I don't think you have anything to worry about." Steven says gently.

"That's fine for you, I'm the one performing the ritual you just have to show up, I'm the one responsible for making sure you don't die or lose your mind or lose a limb or-"

"Breathe." Marc says grabbing your hand. You stop and take a breath.

"Marc-"

"Don't start, and don't get yourself all worked up. It's like you don't even realize how powerful you are. You're not going to kill me, or drive me insane, or steal my arms. We will absolutely come out on the other side of this for the better." Marc says firmly.

"When did you get all optimistic?" You chuckle.

"When you showed up and gave me something worth living for." He says kissing your temple.

"You're such a softie." You scoff.

"Yeah yeah, now let's get this movie night started, you can research the spell later."

"Alright alright. I'll table it for now." You sigh letting Marc pull you closer to him as he starts the first movie for tonight.

*~*

You draw the last of the symbols on the ground, checking them for the umpteenth time that you got them all correct. You drove hours out of the city to prepare and do this spell. Marc is meant to meet you any minute now, but you've already been here a while getting all the bits and pieces together. You read your notes again, as if you haven't seared them into your brain at this point, but it helps you feel in control. You've done all the research you could possibly do without having a first hand account of doing this spell. You're as ready as you can be, you know you are, but there's just so much that could go wrong it's impossible not to be nervous.

"The pacing does not bode well for your sanity." The booming voice almost makes you drop your pages.

"Holy fuck- you brought the bird?!" You clutch your chest when you realize your boyfriend has arrived and so has Khonshu.

"I am not some pet he does not bring me anywhere. He is my Avatar, if you intend to disintegrate his mind it's in my personal interests to be aware of that." Khonshu says.

"I'm not disintegrating anything you kooky old skeleton but if you insist on being here do not interrupt." You roll your eyes.

"Even if it saves him from your incompetence?"

"Marc may work for you but I don't you fucking-"

"Khonshu don't speak to her that way." Jake interrupts. "We didn't tell you about this so you could come all this way just to insult her. She's powerful and capable and we have faith in her. Your opinion on the matter is not only unwanted, it is also unfound." You look between them as Jake's words hang in the air for a moment. 

"You hold her in high regard." Khonshu hums.

"You knew that already." Jake glares.

"To see it is a different thing."

"Are you two done?" You ask.

"Sorry mi amor, I told them to leave Khonshu in the dark but no one listens to me. How are you feeling?" Jake takes your hand in his, eyes scanning your face.

"Fine. Good. As good as I can be. Everything's set. How're you guys?" You ask.

"Steven's a little nervous."

"Just Steven?" You probe softly.

"Sí just Steven. Marc is, impatient and I am, managing our expectations."

"As always." You kiss his cheek.

"Are you two quite finished with the- whatever this is?" Khonshu scoffs and you're sure if he had eyes to roll he'd probably be doing that.

"Oh I'm sorry did you mistake us for a theater show? We're not here to entertain you." You roll your eyes. You walk over to your bag and pull out a small bottle. "Drink this."

"What's this?" Jake asks.

"Step one."

"Which does what?" His eyebrow cocks up at you.

"Makes you more susceptible to the magic of the spell so it's easier." You say, that's not exactly right but the full explanation would be far too much to break down and you need to focus on getting through this not giving a potions lesson. Jake downs the murky liquid and cringes slightly. It probably doesn't taste great based on the ingredients. "Stand in the center where all the lines meet."

"How should I stand?" He asks.

"Still." You mutter walking over to your bag for your ritual dagger.

"What?"

"You asked how you should stand. Stand still." You say.

"Amor?" Jake calls, making you look up from your recitation pages. "Te amo."

"I love you too." You say. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. It's now or never.

"Ich baln kikae fineir shel cae ganel ufnae oulm antae woom bae." The circle starts to shimmer in that familiar but unnatural way that's so custom of magic. You twirl the ritual knife once in your hand before slicing open your palm. A spell meant to bind you and another person in any way almost always requires blood.

"Ich Maie fanie rach el aer wol nihar welm intalm axo tanit shway." One hard squeeze of your hand drops blood on the first of the seven symbols that make up the points of the circle. The symbol lights up and the corresponding line follows and shines from end to end.

"Baint int quare yeel fren smer worsh ufer dal krei lut isht." More blood on symbol 2 lighting it and its line.

"Pahb arth e rinethow finae ni shabnida." Your hand is starting to hurt but you squeeze blood onto the third symbol and watch it join the first 2 in brightening the circle.

"Inae fuu raunk valum dae chaw ji prosh shay zila trof renda ishan." You watch the fourth symbol light up and move on to the next.

"Urf nae inst purn wolay kirna ru gant verin herab vins tae." Five down, two more to go.

"Ich shie bruy pir exun bakiyen wishor itarm kastey." Onto the last one.

"Intraey izarnit wor bint azun oxair yerin jiha geins." The last of the symbols lights up, and you walk over to Jake in the center. You tip his head back and squeeze blood into his mouth.

"Mierda! You didn't mention anything about-" Jake doesn't finish his sentence, he drops to the ground and you gasp.

"I imagine that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?" Khonshu muses. You roll your eyes you wish he'd shut up but at least the irritation overrode the panic bubbling. You take a deep breath and recite the last bit of the spell. It won't do you any good to leave the circuit incomplete, an unfinished spell could do more damage to Jake than whatever's already going on.

"Rahg inth der minshea loun weemae zontho ich baln kikae fineir." With the final incantation complete you watch as the spell circle burns brighter and brighter until all the symbols seemingly drain towards the center, disappearing one after the other as if Jake's body is absorbing them.

"Is it over?" Khonshu asks.

"Well the spell circle... disappeared so- I guess?"

"He's still unconscious."

"Gee hadn't noticed." You roll your eyes.

"There has to be something you can do about this you did the spell."

"Just pick him up off the ground." You say packing up your spell items.

"Why would I do that?"

"That spell wasn't easy, I don't have the strength to pick him up but it's not like we can just leave him out here overnight." You cross your arms.

"I am not carrying him all the way into town." Khonshu says.

"Why would you do that? Did you walk here?" You ask.

"The British one doesn't have a car."

"Sure but Jake does."

"Jake didn't want to have to leave the car here if something happened." Khonshu says.

"Whatever, I drove. You just need to get him to my car." You say.

"And what if I don't?"

"If you don't he spends the night out here." You shrug grabbing your bag of things and trudging away from the clearing.

"Well- hang on!" Khonshu huffs. A few moments later you hear his heavy footfalls behind you. "Would you really have left your boyfriend laying in a field unprotected."

"Of course not, the field had a bunch of defensive spells in place." You scoff.

"Why didn't you say that!?"

"I knew you wouldn't call my bluff." You say opening your car and tossing your bag in the passenger seat. "Drop him in the back please." You open the backseat door and help Khonshu fold your boyfriend across the seats.

"You had better hope they all survive your odd experimentation."

"It was their idea you foolis- you know what, it doesn't matter what you say, you have no right to pretend you value their life beyond how you can use them like a puppet of course I hope they survive I tried to talk them all out of this like 5 times. Stubborn fools." You shake your head.

"So what happens now?"

"Now I take him home and we hope for the best." You shrug getting into your car. You drive home, anxious to get your boyfriend home so you can start looking for some way to reverse this or at least help in some way.

Back at your apartment you struggle to get the body up to your place. Luckily it's incredibly late already or you'd probably have to explain this to more than just the person frowning at you from behind the front desk when you walked in. Once in the safety of your own apartment, you take a deep breath as you look at Marc passed out in your guest room.

"I don't want to get to say I told you so but you had better give me a chance to yell at you for being an idiot. You owe me that. Please wake up, you're far too stubborn to die like this. It'd be a rather pathetic way to go, given all the shit that didn't take you out." You huff. You feel so restless, you need to shower and you know you need to sleep because it's been a long and exhausting day but there's no way you'll get any rest with your boyfriend passed out indefinitely in the other room, all you want to do is sit up sifting through grimoires until the answer jumps out at you from one of the pages, you can't just leave him like that and not do anything-

"Stop." You say to yourself, hoping to stall your racing thoughts for a moment. "Okay, strategize. Realistically if you try to comb through your grimoires and things right now your eyes will literally fall out bleeding you have done entirely too much today even if you found the answer you wouldn't have the strength to do anything with it. He's physically safe and while you can't possibly know what's going on internally that'll have to be enough for now because you can't save him if you don't take care of yourself. Let's shower and try to get some sleep and we can approach this with a fresh mind in the morning."

With an acceptable game plan officially vocalized you take one more deep breath and clap your hands once to center yourself. Your shower helps tremendously which you knew it would but sometimes it's hard to regulate when so much is going on at once. You put on lotion and your pajamas and check on the trio once more before forcing yourself to go to bed. Hopefully you can get some sleep and maybe start problem solving this whole nightmare in the morning.

***

A/N: So sorry it took so long to get here my mind is a labrynth and my life has been a tornado lately, it's getting calm so what else would you like to see from this series?

Tagged Users: @itsmskeisha @auntiegigi @neteyamsluvts @a-lil-bit-nuts @i-love-sammwiches @chaosgoblinreblogsthings

[rabbityshen]

i know it's been brought up how ryoko kui likely knows what autism is based on a past short story in terranium in a drawer, but i also think it's worth pointing out in general that her work shows a good grasp on being disabled.

there's a short story titled "wolves don't lie" in another anthology of hers (seven little sons of the dragon) that's an allegorical but also very literal take on what it means to be disabled with a chronic illness.

(these are pages from a scanalation because I only have the paperback on me, but if there's the official localized version is available, i highly recommend supporting it if you can.)

it's about a young adult named keita who has werewolf syndrome. his mom had become a spokesperson/activist in spreading awareness and info about the condition and the experiences of raising a child with it. meanwhile keita struggles with living an everyday normal life as well as feeling alienated from his mom.

(that page 150 is odd as the official translation i have has him think "she does know me pretty well, doesn't she?" referring to his mom, so im unsure as to which translation is correct)

as a fantasy allegory and short story, it still has its limits, but it's interesting to see how she explores how society tends to let down and stigmatize disabled people, even as they are supported as "respectable" examples that feels very true to real life. having said that though, it's not purely about disability so much as a slight coming of age story about very common parent/child conflict that's through the lens of fantasy and disability.

(and in some ways you can see parallels with izutsumi's blended soul situation.)

as a whole again, i recommend the collection as you can read kui visiting a lot of the same themes that are in delicious in dungeon, even without the core of food and cooking.

[ljf613]

Went to visit my parents and walked in on my dad listening to The Tortured Poets Department.

"It's kind of meh, no?" I asked him. "It's all the same song," he said, nodding. "Like I asked an ai generator 'Create generic Taylor Swift songs. Oh, and throw in some cursing.'" Good to know we're on the same page.

[where-the-wind-travels]

why....... is it so hard....... to find male character outfits that actually look good and fit a theme........ i want to edit my ilw mc + all four lis in summer picnic themed outfits for the upcoming event and alls good regarding mia + lia + joss but what the fuck do i put linc and abel in i can't find anything

[mariocki]

Shadows of Fear: Did You Lock Up? (1.1, Thames, 1970)

"And they didn't make much mess?"

"No, not really. They forced that door. Smashed the cabinet, slashed a sofa. And kicked a hole in the bedroom door."

"Ah. Big mistake."

"What is?"

"Never lock inside doors. Anything you can to keep them out - but when they're in, let 'em get on with it."

"I'll remember."

[allyricas]

taylor swift is not kidding about putting narcotics in her songs because i literally have been listening to ttpd nonstop. i can barely read because i can't passively listen to these songs.

there is too much to digest too much to contemplate let me find a shady spot under a lovely tree and just sit and ponder over all the complexity of these songs

i'm writing notes and checking dates and researching different historical facts like i'm writing a thesis

[tellthemhowihopetheyshouted]

more in depth explanation ig, i dont feel like i can listen to especially poets without thinking about the whole paternity test analysis thing.

when i first listened i felt really awful and embarrassed and i couldn't quite articulate why

while im still trying to figure it out, a huge part of my feelings was (and still is) that the part of me that wants to theorize about songs and who they're about, and connect it to taylor's life and imagine what she wrote about is at odds with what i hear in the lyrics about creeps who want the best for me and etc

there are some songs im better at just vibing with and some songs that i just actively have to force myself not to be like "oh thats about x person and so they did this and she did this and..."

I'm trying, and if anyone has suggestions or things that work for them please send them to me, im new to this and to online fandoms in general. i feel so shitty but then there's part of me that still doesn't see harm in thinking "x song is about taylor and x person, so using what you know about them both lets picture this in your mind" and "oh [symbol 1] that must mean it's about [person 1], but wait now there's also [symbol 2] so it's about [person 1 and person 2] but wait does that mean person 2 could also be related to symbol 1?" all the while all of these people are real actual people.

[lesbiangiratina]

You there early 2000s gg manga artist write a joke involving testament that does not make me want to attack you like an animal

[killjoy-prince]

Big boy manga haul today!!

[straykats]

i feel like. talking and writing so much about my own identity in this new course is like. scary but also great but also it sometimes feels like a. "oh look at me this is who i am" which shouldnt be a bad thing but i. like. idk but thats also the point of this project sjcnsjd

[lactosefreevanillayoghurt]

blah blah blah sleepy slug saturday 🐌💤🐛💤🪱💤 etc etc

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

What Could Be

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: ah they go axe throwing, the boys get a blowjob

Genre: fluff, smut

Summary: date night and curious inquiries

***

You hum to yourself as you finish your makeup. Tonight is date night and the boys won't tell you what they're planning but you're excited. Every so often they'll do this, where they plan some secret date to surprise you. Just as you finish getting ready there's a knock at your door and you check the clock. It's 6 o'clock. They're right on time. Of course, they are. Steven would probably blow his top if they were late to meet you.

"Coming!" You shout giving yourself one more once over in the mirror before dashing to the door. You pull open the door with a smile. "Hi, boys!" You say.

"Hey sweetheart." Marc kisses your cheek. You push into their mindscape for a moment to greet the others.

"Hello love."

"Hola princessa."

You offer them quick replies before returning to Marc.

"So what're we up to tonight my darlings?" You ask looping your arm through his as you lock your apartment.

"You know the rules, you find out when we get there." Marc smiles.

"Oh fine." You roll your eyes dramatically.

"Don't worry, you'll love this. We're sure of it." He tells you.

"I expect to."

A few blocks and a train ride later you're walking up to what looks like any old bar.

"Are we doing a bar crawl?" You ask.

"A bar crawl?! Do you think us that boring and unoriginal?"

"Marc- this is a bar. Is it not?"

"Technically, but that's not why we're here." He says with a mischievous smile.

"What shady shit are you planning Spector?" You narrow your eyes at him as he leads you inside. While Marc is speaking to the employee by the door you take in the atmosphere around you. There's a decent crowd here, the decorations are all bright and attention grabby. Then you catch sight of a neon sign with a silly pun that gives away what kind of place this is. 'Axe and you shall receive' it says in glowy orange. You gasp as you put it together. Before you can ask to confirm the lady Marc was speaking to is walking and Marc is guiding you to follow. Through the moderate throng of people towards the back, where there are several stations lined up a safe distance apart.

"Axe throwing." You finally say with a smile. You don't notice Marc smiling at you as you look at the few people already throwing. You barely catch the instructions being given to you before you're handed an axe each.

"I told you you'd love it." He says triumphantly.

"You guys never cease to amaze me." You shake your head.

"To be detrimentally honest Jake thought you'd look particularly incredible with a hatchet in hand."

"Jake always likes me best when I'm a danger to someone." You chuckle.

"That's not true princessa." Jake says.

"Oh yeah?" You gesture for him to back up and throw your axe at the target. When you turn back to Jake his eyes have darkened in a way you're not unfamiliar with.

"Yeah." He says gruffly.

"Then why are you suddenly looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're thinking of a thousand ways to devour me in this room." You say walking over to the target to yank your axe out of it. By the time you walk back over to him, the look is gone.

"If we're going to get through our scheduled hour Jake will have to remain in our head." Steven says and now the look being gone makes sense. You laugh.

"Are you going to throw Steven?" You ask.

"I- don't think I'll be all that good at it. Matc would probably be better at-"

"Give it a shot before you count yourself out baby." You cut him off before he can talk himself out of it more.

"You think so?"

"I think the worst you can do is not try at all." You shrug.

"A-alright." He nods. You swap places with him and he gives it a good honest try. His axe hits the target just to the left of the bullseye and he spins to look at you as if he can't believe it. "I-I hit it!"

"See?! I told you! That was brilliant Steven!" You beam at him. He and Marc take turns throwing their axe with you for the next hour or so before you leave. It's Steven you end up having dinner with before walking back to your apartment building. When you reach the apartment, you don't get out a goodbye before you're kissed so fiercely that you stumble backwards through your open door. The kiss continues through your living room, the door being kicked shut once you're inside.

"I have been waiting to do that all night." Jake breathes out when he finally pulls away, by which point you're on the other side of your living room.

"Really?" You ask breathlessly.

"It may not be when I like you best, but there is something irresistible about you with a weapon." He says cupping your face gently.

"When Steven said they had to lock you away so we could get through our axe throwing session I thought he was being facetious." You chuckle.

"He has a flare for the dramatic."

"But you would not have behaved."

"I plead the 5th."

"An answer in and of itself." You shrug.

"Oh hush." Jake pulls you into another kiss, this one less urgent than the last but just as breathtaking. He barely pulls away to lift you into his arms and carry you to your bed.

"I didn't realize axe throwing would have you so feverish." You giggle as he lays you down atop your mattress.

"You remember the night I found out about your powers?" Jake asks.

"Yeah, we got ambushed by those guys and I used my abilities to stop them."

"Watching you fight was- beyond what I can express." He breathes.

"Beyond what you can express?" You smirk.

"If I said that was the night I knew I'd fall in love with you would you believe it?" He asks.

"Why wouldn't I?" You scoff.

"You don't find it strange?"

"Jake, my darling, there's three of you up here," you gently caress his forehead "And I can turn minds to mush without breaking a sweat. You finding me hot with a weapon is very low on the list of strange occurrences."

"How wonderful you are." Jake smirks leaning forward to kiss you again. Jake's lips trail down your throat littering the exposed skin with nips and licks that send shivers down your spine. He pulls back long enough to tug your shirt over your head before his lips continue their journey down your body. He shoves your bra down but not off to take a nipple between his lips long enough to have you arching off the bed towards him and then he descends further, sliding your pants down your legs when he reaches the waistband. You sit up to properly pull off your bra as he tosses your pants and underwear on the floor beside him. Jake pushes himself up onto his feet at the edge of the bed, his eyes traveling over your body the way his hands and lips did a few minutes ago.

"You are so gorgeous. I cannot believe you are mine. Ours." Jake says with nothing but adoration in his eyes and voice. You get onto your knees and shuffle to the edge of the bed so you're face to face with him and start to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"You are just as gorgeous my darling. And I am so very lucky to call you mine." You say placing kisses against his revealed skin as you slowly remove his shirt.

"You're too good to us mi vida." Jake's hand caresses your cheek.

"You are not good enough to yourselves." You counter, kissing his lips now as you work his belt off and shove his pants from his waist. They catch just above his knees but it's fine because the part of him you wish to expose is at attention between you. You grip him in one hand and he groans at the feeling as you begin to stroke him lazily.

"You- think s-so highly of us." Jake grits out.

"Of course I do and I want you to do the same." You say gently, kissing his abdomen just below his belly button.

"Mierda." He hisses. You drag your tongue down his length, taking the tip between your lips and swirling your tongue around it. When you peak up at him his head is pitched towards the ceiling and his mouth has dropped open wide. It's always so much fun to see any of them in such a state. 

You toy with him for a little while, licking and sucking on the head while your hand keeps working the length of him. It's enough to make him unsteady on his feet but not enough to make him cum. It doesn't take long for Jake to become frustrated enough to grab your wrist and force you back onto the bed. 

~

"Y/n?" Steven asks gently. He knows you're only half awake as the two of you have been talking for the last hour.

"Yes my darling?" You hum.

"Uh- Marc wants to speak to you? Like- in here." Steven taps on his temple.

"Oh? Okay. I'll be back." You kiss Steven's shoulder before projecting yourself into their mind. Marc is sitting cross-legged when he materializes. You mirror his position in front of him.

"Hey you." You smile.

"Hi. I was just wondering something."

"What's up buttercup?"

"You know how you jump into our mind like this sometimes to talk to us?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there- like any way we could do the same thing but like the opposite? You know, jumping into your mind?" Marc asks.

"Uh-" you pause for a moment. "No." Maybe you shouldn't lie to him but what he's suggesting- the risks are simply not worth it.

"Why did you hesitate?"

"I didn't." You shake your head.

"You definitely did and I'd like to know why."

"Okay- fine. Technically- I mean you aren't a telepath so not exactly the same but there are ways to bind you to me and that would- pretty much mimic what my powers allow me to."

"Bind us to you?"

"Okay so I usually compare minds to houses or offices but to explain this let's say everyone's mind is an island, they're completely unconnected but- my powers allow me to build bridges- between minds. So when you ask me to come here I simply create a bridge, you aren't a telepath so you can't do the same but it is possible to bind yourself to a telepath which would essentially create a permanent bridge. You would be able to shout down that bridge and perhaps I could teach you to walk across it into my mind but if that was even possible it would take quite some time."

"But you could do it?"

"Maybe. I don't know, no telepath I know has ever had someone bound to them and from what I've heard no one is exactly eager to dive into the mind of a telepath when they get bound to one."

"Well how would you do that?"

"No. We're not- it's too risky. Just trying to do the ritual could drive you insane and that's not something I'm willing to put you through not to mention relationships END. Trying to undo that binding- you'd probably never be rid of me Marc."

"We have no desire to be rid of you-"

"Whatever. It's dangerous. I don't want to- not to mention you can't even make the decision on your own Jake and Steven would have to weigh in before anything could happen."

"Weigh in on what?" Jake pops up suddenly.

"Nothing." You roll your eyes.

"Steven! Hermano! Tune into this conversation, yeah?" Jake turns away from you and Marc to summon Steven.

"No you don't have to-"

"What's up?" Steven pops in.

"Hi." You sigh.

"La princesa needs us to weigh in on something she's discussing with Marc."

"Marc wants to be able to jump into my mind the way I jump into yours and the only way to do that is to bind you to me and I think it's too risky to even consider the idea."

"But we could outvote her." Marc tells the others.

"I'm the only one here who can do the ritual so technically you can't but go off." You roll your eyes.

"So to clarify you could make it so we can go into your mind like you do ours?" Steven asks.

"Yes but she doesn't want to." Marc nods.

"Why not?" Jake asks.

"It's dangerous! There are too many risks it's not a good idea." You shake your head.

"But it's our risk to take. It's not up to you."

"I'm the one doing the ritual. I could just refuse. Then what?"

"Have we ever made decisions like that?" Marc crosses his arms.

"This isn't the same as deciding who pays for dinner you are asking me to risk your sanity, your lives, for something that isn't necessary. What is so wrong about the way things are?"

"It's not that there's something wrong-" Marc starts.

"I think it'd be nice to be connected on such a special level like that." Steven shrugs.

"Exactly. It's another level of closeness with you. Plus- it would be nice to not have to run it by whoever is fronting to talk to you." Marc says.

"Jake? How do you feel about it?" You ask.

"It's risky?"

"Yes."

"But you could do it?"

"I don't know. I've never done it before. It's- from all accounts very difficult."

"I'm not sure I believe there's anything you can't accomplish." Jake muses with a smirk.

"I appreciate your faith in me but that doesn't tell me what your thoughts are regarding Marc's... desire."

"I agree it would be nice to have a more permanent way to communicate directly if it's possible, but I understand your hesitance. We are however adults and are fully capable of taking responsibility for our decisions and it's only fair you let us make that decision." Jake says.

"I cannot lose you at my own hands. Not for something so- frivolous."

"It isn't frivolous to us. You can always be with us, speak to us. We want to do the same." Marc frowns. You take a long moment to consider each of them.

"I will look into it. But I'm not making any promises." You say finally. Each of them reacts with varying levels of excitement and even if you think this is an absolutely dreadful idea, it's cute to see that it means so much to them.

***

A/N: If you see this would you prefer I DO a part about the actual process of binding them or just skip ahead

Tagged Users: @itsmskeisha @auntiegigi @neteyamsluvts @a-lil-bit-nuts

[priestfrommidnightmass]

got one of the last beastie boys albums i didn’t already have today this is such a gigantic win for me

[je-blauge]

These ladies magnused an entire archive

[loneisland]

seeing the style switch in s3 in pretty little liars is like watching a crime unfold in real time

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than your sick love. He doesn’t think you love in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

Logan closes them. “I’m tired,” He says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Ezra Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas, with a kind of slippery urgency that tells you he's trying to shut you up more than he's trying to satiate his own desire.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean, play with me?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are. So you keep taking it, until Logan can no longer successfully suppress his moans and his hips are jerking out of rhythm.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling this identical need. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion, and it does. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you, filling you extraordinarily with only a few inches.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

He groans as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster as you swap his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back to let you swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.