Eatingyouryoung - Eat Your Young

I’m sorry 🥺

through the storm | jake lockley

a/n: i'm squeaking i loved this. seeing jake be so rough on himself and finally giving himself what he needs; you. ugh, it's a trope I'm all here for every second of every day 💗 thank you to the beautiful nonnie who requested this ☺️

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, marc and steven are only mentioned,

summary: steven loves to cuddle through a storm, marc too. but jake can't give himself the pleasure of falling asleep in your arms, until finally you convince him.

w/c: 0.8k

moon boys masterlist

The rain poured against the top of the apartment, bringing you out of your book. You were cozied up in bed, watching as flashes of lightning illuminated the nook-like space. 

You yawned, feeling tiredness sweep through your body like a tidal wave. Stretching your limbs, your eyes follow the line leading to the door which was twisting open to reveal him. 

With a cap on his head, he shimmied out of his jacket in silence, droplets of rain meeting the floor beneath him.

“You’re home?” You call out, earning the man’s brown orbs to lift.

Jake. You knew exactly who was fronting. 

“Finished early,” Jake responds. “We’re in for some crazy weather,” He informs you.

You nod your head. “Which is the perfect nap weather, am I right?” You giggle, bookmarking your spot. Every time the rain came and a thunderstorm ensued, Marc and Steven would adoringly cuddle with you. Steven wanted to be as close as possible, while Marc enjoyed the sleep he got while wrapped in your arms. 

Jake deserved the same. 

He rarely gave himself over to a side of affection. Swearing to himself that his sole purpose was to protect Marc and Steven, he tried not to come around as much because he didn’t want you to suffer. He knew he could be bitter at times, but he had the best intentions. 

“Yeah,” Jake mumbles, fishing his belongings out of his pocket and placing them in the bowl. He walks through the room after removing his shoes, never once beelining for the spot beside you. 

“Jake?” You call his name.

“Yes, cariño?” Jake responds, the pet name making your face soften as your lips part. 

Another roar of thunder sounded outside, making you sigh. You really wanted him to let go for a bit– to know what it was like to relax. 

“Why don’t we take a nap together? We can be nap buddies.” You inform him just as he turns the corner. Jake’s eyes soften as he stares a hole through the side of the mattress that was currently vacant. 

“I’m fine, sweetness. Go on without me.” He deters. 

“Jake Lockley,” You clear your throat. “There is a persistent thunderstorm outside, and I want to cuddle. It’s the perfect nap weather! Come on, don’t be so grumpy.” You cross your arms. 

Jake glances to the side, certainly hearing as the rain pelted against the rooftop. 

Deep down, he wanted to. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to fall into your embrace, but he knew better. He couldn’t risk it. 

“Hermosa,” He says, but stops when he sees your bottom lip push forward. “–Don’t do that.” 

You shake your head. “I know you don’t want to–”

“That’s not it. I promise.” He stops. “Marc and Steven– they can. I’ll see if–”

“I don’t want Marc or Steven. No offense if they can hear me. I want you, Jake.” 

Jake was having a bitter internal fight. He could hear the voices of his alters chuckling and both persuading him.

Steven said you were like a physical form of honey. 

Marc said he wouldn’t regret it, it would be the best sleep of his life. 

Even the two boys wanted the best for their grumpy alter. 

Another ferocious roar of thunder seals the deal for Jake. He can visually see the room growing darker from the clouds overhead, and strikes of lightning slipping through the window panes. He takes a few cautious steps forward, watching as you eagerly move the sheets back.

Jake falls into them nervously and the moment he feels your hand caress his arm, he knew what Steven meant. You looked at him with such an adorable expression, your limbs tangling through his. He was stiff, and you were trying your hardest to coax him to relax.

“Come on, wrap your arms around me, Lockley. I know you can do it.” You tease him. 

Jake sighs and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

The moment his nose brushes yours, his eyes fall immediately to your lips. His mouth parts slightly and he feels a sudden rush consume him. Cautiously, Jake journeys his hand up the trail of your arm until he ghosts an index finger across your collarbone, soon delivering a feather touch to your jaw. He sees as your eyes dilate with pure adoration, pupils blowing wide as you gazed at him with a sense of longing. 

“Mi Vida,” He whispers. He cups your soft cheek, brushing his thumb underneath your eye. You melt into his touch and nuzzle your cheek against his palm. 

“Give into it, Jake… You’re safe here.” You reassure him. 

Jake closes his eyes, soon finding the softness of your lips. He brushes his fingers through your hair before he pulls you closer, the thunder rolling more repetitively now. 

He gives into the feeling, the way he feels safe. He lets it consume him, and soon, he’s fast asleep in your embrace. You’re cuddled to his chest as strong arms engulf you, crushing you to his body, but keeping you safe. 

The rain continued to pour and nothing could take this moment away from Jake.

screaming crying throwing up

Blorbo thought of the day #5

Repetition: (Marc Spector x reader)

A/n: a little fluffy blurb 🥰 Starts with angst but Marc provides comfort and it’s lovely because he is lovely.

Warnings: (Reader has some abandonment / self-esteem issues, canon typical allusions to Marc’s past, implied off-camera sexy times) Not proofed!

GIF by @anhandfulgirl18

“You a’right?” Marc asks you in his gruff morning voice as your sigh billows dolefully against the bare expanse of his chest. The room is golden hued with sunlight, bright and easy, and your mood as you wake certainly does not match it.

“Bad dream,” you explain curtly, deepening the niggle in your brow. “Just thinking.”

Marc crushes his chin to his chest in an attempt to get a better look at you. Smooths a warm, broad hand down your bare back, the gnarled patterned sheets pushed down around your middles. “What dream? What are you thinking?”

You stiffen, snapping out of your gloomy mood a little as you realise that you’ve been awake for a mere 30 seconds, and yet you have already managed to make his voice sound like that. Despondent. Taut with concern.

Your head still resting on his chest, his heartbeat thudding steadily beneath the shell of your ear, you let your fingers dance lightly over his pec, trailing in slow, repeating circles, round and round. “It’s just….” The words feel too big to come out, like there’s a traffic jam in your throat when you try to say it out loud.

It’s stupid. You know it is.

“What?” Marc encourages, whisper soft, his voice and his hands as gentle as the slip of fresh golden sun into the room.

You push yourself up. Lie on your front next to him, propping your chin on your fisting hands. Despite the tension roping through you, looking at Marc instantly makes you smile, even if the gesture itself is a subdued, somber sort of thing.

You reach up and ruffle his thick, dark strands with the rake of your fingers, fondly combing the tendrils back from his forehead, and he hums for you, low and soft.

God. This man. He always looks especially beautiful on a morning. The mussed, chaotic curls. The shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. The way he fans his long lashes, attempting to blink away the bright morning, always a complete snuggle fiend and wanting to lay in the dark with you just a little longer. The glisten of his Magen David pooled in the hollow of his throat, bobbing there as he swallows. His skin bare and warm and his natural scent not yet polluted by his morning shower.

You don’t think you could ever tire of this sight.

“It’s nothing. Not really. It’s just… Every now and again I get this… horrible gnawing feeling. Like one day you’ll… I dunno. Get bored of me?”

That wakes him up, and for the second time this morning you feel guilt writhe your belly. Marc, meanwhile, looks at you with a pure concern. Gaze flitting over you. Examining you as though you’ve been severely wounded - and he’s only now seeing it. “What do you mean?” He moves, the surprise animating him, and he shifts his elbows backwards to prop his torso up. His necklace elongates, settling into place in the valley of his shapely chest, and his mop of curls flopping once again over his forehead. “Honey. How could I ever?”

You play with a little bit of lint on the bed covers, suddenly intent on it. Retreating away from Marc’s intense, searching stare. “You know. You could. Maybe. From the repetition of it.” Your voice cracks like sun-baked earth - as though the golden morning has already dried you out. “You could get bored. Waking-up next to me every day? Hearing me talk about the same stuff all the time? Fucking me, over and over.”

At that comment, Marc’s brows knit and raise in the middle. His tongue fleets along his lower lip, his mouth turning down at the corners. God, those puppy dog eyes of his never get old.

“But you know I love fucking you over and over, shortcake.”

You shake your head softly. Self-conscious around him, and you have no idea why. “Marc.”

With the wet way you say his name, Marc turns immediately on to his side, still propped up on one elbow, his muscles popping as they bear his weight. And, his freed arm just as immediately is reaching for you. Fingers trailing down your back. You look at him and he looks pained. “Did I… Did I do something to make you think that-“

“-No.” Shit. You shouldn’t have said anything about it. Marc gets so in his head about these things. Always blames himself, as though, if you’re insecure, it means that he isn’t doing a good enough job of loving you. In fact, that could not be further from the truth. “No, Marc. I promise. It’s…” You sigh out a long breath. “It’s just how I feel sometimes. Like eventually, you’ll realise you want someone else. I mean, if I were you, I’d get tired of me too, you know? Sometimes it just feels… inevitable.” Your final word is so heavy that is weighs the tears that pool in your eyes, and yet, even through the blur, you risk a glance up at Marc again.

His palm comes to cradle your cheek. His eyes shine steadily on you. Even glint with an unexpected amusement, despite the situation, which you don’t yet comprehend.

“Baby. Do you never think about who you’re talking to, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. I love repetition. Same thing, over and over? Fucking heaven.”

Your insecurities press you to dispute his statement, and your mouth even drops open to counter him; but, actually, when you think about it…

Marc?

This guy?

The guy who eats the same thing everyday for breakfast, except on Saturdays? Who does all of his tasks in the same way, in the same order, every time? Who watches the same three movies on repeat any time he gets a chance? Who buys four of the same shirt so he rarely has to change it up?

“Yeah. Okay,” you concede. “But, why though?Because it’s… easy? Convenient?” That’s not what you want to be for him.

Marc caresses your cheek with his palm again, gaze flitting fondly over your face. He frowns, like he’s never really thought about the why before. Because it had never really occurred to him to think about it. “No. Not exactly. I guess because… It makes me feel… safe.”

“Safe?”

Safe. Is that what you are to him?

“Yeah. Safe like…”

Not like home. Not like the place that never was; safe.

Safe, like the jumper you knitted him, maybe. Safe, like repeating stitch after repeating stitch wrapped around him, keeping him warm.

Repetition as comfort. Routine as the home he never had, built for himself, block by block.

Like that, maybe? Or, like something else?

You swallow harshly. “Safe like… boring?”

“No,” Marc says calmly, still thinking. “No, baby.”

Then, he moves. Crawls on top of you until his nude body is covering yours, boxing you in all safe.

You see the effort plainly in his face. See from the weight in his brow that he’s painstakingly searching for the right words. That he’s reaching for a way to make you get it. Searching for something which he knows for certain you’ll truly understand. “Safe like…” A lightness settles over Marc’s face as he lands on the very thing. Something you can both understand. No chance of misinterpretation. “Safe like… how Steven makes you feel, you know?” Then, he cocks his head to the side, a slow drag of a smile inching, lopsided, over his plush mouth. “Except, in a less brotherly way. Obviously.”

You can’t help it. You tear up. You know what Steven means to Marc. That Steven represented the first time Marc had felt loved. Protected. That Steven made you feel that same way too. “I really make you feel like that?”

Marc’s eyes glow softly with a smile, crinkles appearing around his eyes, since he’s finally beginning to make you understand. “Yeah. Now you’re getting it. And hey. You’d never get sick of that, would you?”

You wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips. Buries his face in your neck, lips sliding tenderly down the column of your throat. Holding you tightly, his body covering you. He kisses along your collarbone, his tongue laving there. “I’ll never be bored of you.”

“Promise?”

Marc props himself up on his forearms, boxing you in either side of your head and nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “In a thousand lifetimes? I’d love you over and over and over and over.”

Finally, you submit a watery smile to him, releasing your sadness and your fears and your tension. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling his mouth down to yours for a deep, tender, loving kiss.

“Well,” you suspire when you break for air. “Then I suppose I like repetition too.”

“Oh yeah?”

You kiss the tip of his nose and his face crinkles with a delicious smile. “Yeah. Because I wanna wake up beside you every single day, Marc Spector.” He smiles in awe at you, eyes glistening with unadulterated adoration and you kiss along his jawline. “And sometimes Steven or Jake too,” you add as an aside. “That I’ll allow.” Marc’s face splits into a beaming smile. “Now, kisses for you all.” You grasp his face in your splayed hands and plant three kisses in turn. One on the cheek, one to the centre of his forehead, and one on his lips, which is all for him.

Marc’s eyes flutter closed as your kiss puckers against him. “Now, get off me, will you?” you tease fondly. “I’ll get us some breakfast. I’m gonna need you fuelled-up.”

“What for?”

“For all of the repetitive fucking we’re about to do.”

Marc flips obediently on to his back, folding his arms behind his head and baring himself entirely to you as you sway -naked- towards the kitchen. “Oh, is that right?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, shortcake.”

You are. You’re feeling much better thanks to Marc and the way in which he loves you - which, you’re discovering, never gets old.

“What are we having?” he asks as you begin to raid the cabinets.

“The usual.” you glance towards him, a smirk on your mouth. “I mean. If that’s okay with you.”

He smiles softly at you in return. “The usual sounds perfect.”

It’s funny.

Marc always did love a little repetition.

summary: steven ‘accidently’ messages you after you’ve broken up.

pairings: ex! steven grant x ex! reader, allusions to ex! marc and ex! jake as well

warnings: literally just angst :( and very minimal cussing

word count: 870 words

a/n: sooo this is the first small part of a series based on ex! moon boys. will have everything from angst, angst and angst, to pining, forced close proximity and hopefully fluff!!! enjoy :) similar fic here (could be considered another part ig)

Surely it was an accident.

The message shone on your screen, illuminating a small portion of your dark room that the sun had not yet reached, eyes squinting with the unwelcoming light. You had blinked once, twice, harshly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to ensure this wasn’t a cruel trick your mind was playing.

But it was still there.

Hi.

The message was so simple, a single word. But your heart was pounding, and your mouth was dry. You could imagine him saying it. Could still feel the warm embrace of his breath against the top of your head as he whispered the word, and you knew you were home.

Steven had messaged you. But why?

Keep reading

Some messy dorito shaped Geto sketches inspired by this one tweet 👀

I had to add tattoos because...yes this is very self-indulgent

He got his lips out like he wants to be kissed so bad it makes him look stupid

KEN Things Ryan Gosling Can't Live Without | GQ

One Day

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x fem!Reader

Word Count: 581

Summary: Fundraising and helping others is nice but Santiago can’t ever help himself around you. 

Warning tags: implied smut, indication of a breeding kink, fluff. 

A/n: I mean who doesn’t love Pope? ~ 🪐

It was a sunny day in Florida, which was perfect for the donation fundraiser that you were collaborating on with Santiago. You both came up with the idea that once a month you should give to the homeless population a starter pack of important items, specifically for women who were on their cycle. You would give them free ticket stubs for the train, band-aids, a scheduled appointment to get their regular check up by a doctor and other items. 

Along with a lovely durable backpack, it was filled with  band-aids, a tooth brush, toothpaste , condoms, tampons or pads and shampoos. As you were handing out the bottled water, you saw a group of children playing in the community park. One of them cried out to their mother that they wanted ice cream. But their mother was too busy speaking to her friend. Your heart felt a slight tug, but you were busy in the tent. You continued to pass out the essential items. 

Until you saw a man walking by with balloons, and cotton candy. That’s when the two little girls went completely screaming off their heads. You had to get these children something. You excused yourself from the tent. “Where are you going babe?” Santiago called out as you began walking away. You turned around quickly as you responded “I’ll be back in a moment!” 

Santiago watched you as you skipped out of the tent and politely walked through the coward. He had no idea what you were doing until he noticed the man with the trinkets and other items for children. Santiago smiled brightly because he knew that children were your weakness. 

Santiago couldn’t help himself to brightly beam as he watched you bought each child an ice cream, and a balloon. The mothers thanked you and asked you about the fundraiser. Santiago crossed his arms as he allowed himself to drown in your stance. The curve of your hips, ass and boobs were just turning him on. You weren’t doing it on purpose but just watching you was enough. You quickly excused yourself and rushed back to the tent. 

No one noticed you were  gone until you  heard someone whisper in your ear “You can never say no to a child, can you?” You cheekily smiled “ Santi, those children deserve to be happy. And if it’s ice cream that they want then it’s ice cream that they’ll get”.  You said protecting your ideology. 

Santiago  laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist. He brought you close to him and placed a kiss on your temple as he said “You are going to be a great mother to my children one day”. 

Your eyes widened but threw in a joke to mask your  heart jumping “Are you gonna make me one?” It was silent for a moment. You turned around and saw  Santiago smirking. You knew that smudged look  but you had no idea what he was about to say. 

“Maybe tonight Daddy will make you into one sweetheart”. He whispered once more into your ear, sending chills down your spine.

Santiago walked away to help to hand out another starter pack.  You shook  your head. You could never tell if he was just hooking or being serious. 

MASTERLIST, PROMPT LIST, NEWS

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the list): @romanarosearose @roninishere @moonlight-fox @toracainz @micheleamidalajedi @n1ght5h4d3-24 @ahookedheroespureheart @fizzymilkduds @wife-of-marc-and-steven @myfandomlikesandstories @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @cocodiem @harley15dz @lonelyisamyw-0love @stevengrcnt @alexxavicry @moonknightdefender @mona-has-dreams @grumpyahjumma

Miguel O'Hara: Random Horny Thots #1

NSFW - @guruan made me do this (not really I saw the drawing and it gave me thots) Based on this drawing.

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Miguel is anything but subtle. You walk into your shared flat and see him sitting in a chair with his legs spread wide and hands behind his head. His soft cock, still more than impressive in its size, out on display for you to admire.

He tells you he wants you to try again. Despite him not being your first sexual partner, you hadn't been able to actually take him all the way. He was too big...he was far too big.

He knew it, that's why when you would tell him to stop all the other times you tried to take him. So many times he'd been hovering over you, bulbous tip of his cock pressed against your little hole, unable to get any further than that. He could get that fat head just barely inside, but any further would rip you to shreds.

So now he's letting you do it. It doesn't take long for him to be fully erect. He tells you all the time how much he fantasizes about the day you'll finally be able to take every inch he has to offer. So it makes perfect sense that when your dripping and needy cunt is hovering over his wide girth, he's at the ready, leaking precum down the sides of him in anticipation.

"Just take it slow honey, you can do it." He'll say, holding onto your hips for stability and guidance, not making any attempt to push you or make you uncomfortable.

When you get the tip in, he's already making rough groans and trying to stop himself from bucking his hips upward. You start lowering yourself, feeling the burn of the stretch. Miguel is being so soft, not like he is with anyone else you've seen. He's moved one hand up to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over you gently.

"You're doing so well, such a good little girl for me, keep going, I know you can take it."

You wince, lowering yourself further. He's stretching you out, filling you one inch at a time as you keep going. You start to sweat, unsure if you can continue. You drop your forehead onto his, breathing so heavy it's like you've run a marathon, and you've still got more than halfway to go.

"I...I don't think I can." You feel involuntary tears start trickling down your cheeks. "Miguel, it's so big I can't do it."

"Sh, honey, sh." He tips up your chin, "let me kiss those cries out of your pretty mouth hm?"

He hums into your mouth, doing what he said he would. Continuing to whisper in between the kisses that you're such a perfect girl, such a pretty girl taking him so well. You keep going, getting lower and lower until you're fully sitting on him, and he's all the way inside.

You're panting as you melt into him, feeling so full you swear your insides are rearranged at this point. You can feel your tummy bulging against his abdomen, and he's actually smiling - it's a furrowed brow grumpy man smile but a smile nonetheless - , telling you how proud he is that you managed to take him all the way.

Who needs organs anyway?

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