wow look at the moon

Blake sibling comfort is very important to me. I will kill

i hc it would actually take them a while to get into a relationship, even in our magical non-homophobic world, around the age of 17 - 18, about to leave the house or after they have.

but they’re absolutely insufferable in the meantime, with one such example being robin who is the most tactile mf you’d ever see across the deep blue sea.

finney is easily spooked by horror movies, especially considering that most of his experience is with older movies on re-run. and when he gets spooked, he does this full body jump that usually sends him crashing into robin, who always always claims the seat next to him for that reason.

so maybe it’s a little mean to put on movies that he knows will scare finn just to hold his hand without having to explain himself. sue him, it’s cute even when he’s holding robin tight enough to cut off his circulation.

you gotta give him some grace, after all he’s known that he’s practically in love with him since they snuck into a showing of texas chainsaw massacre and finney spent the entire dinner sequence burying his face into robin’s neck. it’s hard work being a yearner, especially a yearner that knows the shampoo of the boy he’s in love with by heart, and exactly how it could feel to hold his hand.

so, psychologically terrorize him so there’s more opportunities to hold his hand instead.

this is working.

it therefore stands to reason, that alien (1979) would be no different.

they hadn’t gotten to watch it until finney was fifteen/sixteen because of his dad’s rule about intense movies, and only got to see it because robin finally convinced him to just fib about what they were actually going to see.

“— and you can just come to me if you get scared tonight. i’ll protect you from the nightmares, y’know, so your dad doesn’t know”

“haha very funny.” yeah that wasn’t a joke

so they borrow his tío’s pickup, and robin feels so goddamned assured to the very moment that they park it and climb onto the hatch. he’s heard about this movie, heard stories about people so scared they passed out in theaters. grown adults turning on nightlights. and robin and finney are the only ones there, sitting close enough to smell shampoo and watch the lights color his curls blue. he’s so assured that he forgets one thing.

finney is a fucking nerd.

so the movie plays and finney is so focused on the space part, that he forgets to care about the literally anything else.

he’s enraptured by the mechanics of the ship, the technology, the androids, the shots of just SPACE, and he’s so invested that he’s practically vibrating and not even the slightest bit of anxious for the horror to start.

and so, the first jumpscare of the movie, which is not an android and not an alien, but a fucking cat, nearly sends robin out of his skin.

he startles so violently that he swears the truck shakes and finney, who was so invested in mentally mapping out a blueprint that he didn’t even react, stares at him. there’s a beat, and then he’s laughing, laughing so hard there’s tears in his eyes even as he’s trying to muffle it all behind his hand and robin’s face is so red that he probably looks purple under the blue screen.

it’s hard to be mad when finney reaches over to hold his hand, laugh still soft and the slightest touch of raspy in a way that was his favorite kind of sound.

“it’s okay,” finney teases him, “i’ll protect you from the mean cats.”

and robin only scowls at him because he knows that the only thing he could possibly say, the only thing he wants to say, would be along the lines of, ‘let’s make out while you tell me how the nostromo reutilizes designs from decommissioned aircrafts.’

and well, he’s embarrassed himself enough for one day.

the next time they see this movie, robin will be so focused on not being jumpscared by the cat that he’ll still startle just as violently when finney reaches over to jumpscare him at the exact same moment. robin will swear at him in spanish but finn will laugh in that way that makes it so hard to actually be mad at him. so he’ll pretend he isn’t sulking to the very moment that finn reaches over to hold his hand and bump their shoulders.

You let him, amused by the desperate way he seeks friction even if it's only the cage pressing more firmly into him every thrust. He's been at it for two hours, lashes clumped together with tears, lip bitten red and face flushed. "Please, please– I can't– please, ma–" he whines.

His face tucks onto your shoulder, then travels down so he can lick between your collar bones like a hungry dog licking its plate. You know he's doing his best, it's been awhile since you've caged him.

It was obvious from the first night ghost stayed in prices house, leg and arm in a cast. When price had told you about it, you insisted on offering his soldier a space to recover with help, and price has always been weak to you pleading.

Ghost, poor ghost, he is an open book after so many missions spent with price. Eyes tracking your every move as you serve large portions for your husband and guest, pausing on the way you casually kiss prices temple when passing by him.

Price knows ghost wants to fuck you. Not because he passed by the guest bedroom in the night—though he did and wasn't shocked by the sounds he heard—but because it's the same exact look ghost has given him on month-long missions. Desire, longing, and a horrible reluctance to actually act on it.

Price, he knows his wife too, knows that you can appreciate a thing like ghost, so he decides to do what his lieutenant is too scared to do.

Which is how ghost ends up in prices bed, head tucked into your neck while he runs desperately into you. He makes a pretty sight, flushed bright pink and glistening with sweat. Obviously overwhelmed by feeling you around him, so you coo "c'mon, si, you're doing good! Take your time, sweetie, enjoy yourself."

Ghost groans, wrapping his arms around your torso in a hug. He whines something into your neck that price can barely make out, but it has him eagerly pulling ghosts head away and grunting "say that again, simon. She wants to hear it."

"Mommy–" ghost gasps, eyes half-lidded. He whines, tears clinging to his lashes, but his hips only pick up speed "mommy– please– am i– am I good? Am I doing good?"

"Aww, yes, you are ghost. So good, perfect for me." You smile, tucking ghosts head to your chest. You smile at price, pulling him in for a kiss while ghosts hips stutter "so good for mommy, for both of us."

Ghost comes with a sob, and price has to finally step in to get ghost to pull out when it becomes clear he won't stop even when overstimulated. You make sure to press a kiss to his forehead, "john will get you cleaned up, okay? Then you're coming back here to cuddle. Got it?"

🎧 shut up and listen - nicholas bonnin & angelicca

his head rolls, thoughts slowly squeezing tight in a single string of you. you have the room spinning, his shirt suddenly too tight, pants rubbing raw at his thighs and his hairline begins to dampen. nervousness ebbing at his veins, shooting up his spine in an addicting high.

“you like it slow, baby?” you murmur, sinking further into him. and you grind leisurely, rolling the sweet heat of your core against him. “or should we speed it up, hmm?”

and when you bounce, he chokes. forming words tumbling back down his throat. it’s not like he even knows what he wants. all he knows is you’re on top of him, your sweet pussy hidden from him with such a thin string of silk it should be a crime. all he knows is how fucking heavenly you are.

the way you grind, slow, hard. just enough to pressure his cock into crying. just enough to have him shuddering. the way you move is smooth, mystical, your soft skin, the way your plush belly hits against the flexed muscles of his. the way your thighs practically suction him to the seat, your soft skin rolling over the back straps of your top. dear god, he breathes.

“slow it is,” you whisper, granting him with a dazzle of pretty smile. though he can’t process it when you settle down onto him fully, humping at him measured and cruel. he’s sure this is against the rules, though with the ache settling between his legs, the pinch at his lower spine, he’s really not complaining.

your chin dips, hot breath fanning his skin till he’s moaning out low, neck rolling into the warmth. his lungs can’t catch up, specially not when you cry out into his ear, letting your sweet whine drip and sink into the crevices of his brain like a sticky, gooey paste. it clogs his senses, and sends his hips jutting against yours.

“anybody tell you just how pretty you are, honey?” you giggle, tongue lolling to lick at the soft lobe, before your teeth nip and he seizes. “specially with those sweet eyes rollin’ back.”

and he’s all whines, spluttering out as his head falls forward. poor simon’s embarrassed, ashamed. every roll of your hips has his stomach somersaulting, his poor cock crying, leaking a sweet pearly mess, desperate for that final knock of your hips against his.

and he watches, in awe. watches every fucking angle you work down onto him, the way your pretty panties cut into the plush fat of your pussy, the worn denim of his jeans pulling them taut between the sticky mess between your thighs. he wonders if you’re enjoying this too, if you’re handling him with special treatment.

subconsciously his hips buck, fucking up against you in a heady need. his balls ache full, heavy between his thighs, so desperate to be drained, fully depleted of everything. his spit slicked lips part, tongue resting at his lower lip as he pants out, teetering right on that edge of divine fucking intervention.

yet, you’re fisting at his hair, pulling his head back till his neck arches, until his lashes flutter, and irises skitter. his hot breath wafts your face, body staggering beneath you. and with a throaty groan, he’s a fucking goner, whimpering out as you settle down and rock, fucking him through his own pathetic release.

“yeah, yeah, that’s it, pretty boy.” you giggle, flicking your tongue just ever so slightly at his that lolls from the sweet abyss of the cavern of his mouth. “cum for me, baby, i’m expecting a mess.”

Anon, when old men have to call time-out to stop from finishing too early 😵‍💫 John price who??

Price who's used to sweet submissive things seeking him out, falling into bed with you. You, who is usually pretty mild on base and in the field, following orders with a nod. Not shy, but...subdued.

Maybe price expects you to act a certain way, surely you'll lie down and let him take care of you just like Kyle. You let Price have his fun, big strong hands pressing your thighs open so he can prep you. His beard scratching at your neck when he kisses the veins there "c'mon, just relax, kid. I'll help you."

Only for you to chuckle before wrapping your thighs around his torso, bracing an elbow against the mattress for leverage, then fucking flipping him onto his back. You smirk down at Price, a firm hand on his chest to keep him down "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

When you sink down in one go price makes a strangled groan, hips bucking inadvertently.

"Fuck! Aghhh–" his hands grip your hips, brows furrowed in concentration "kid– love– slow down–"

He throws his head back, neck exposed and looking absolutely delicious. Your teeth press into the skin over his arteries, still riding for all he's worth. It's embarrassingly fast when Price has to tense his arms and physically stop you "stop– wait, kid– fuck." He breathes for a long moment, sweat beads on his brow in the effort not to cum early. "Just give me a minute, okay? Just– hah– just need to focus–"

You clench down, shift your hips a fractional amount, and chuckle when Price makes a wounded noise. A chuckle that turns into a giddy smile when his cock twitches and warmth spills into you.

"Did you just–"

Johnny is riddled with scars, thick hair coating his tits and two little silver balls bracket the man's nipples. His tattoos are faded with age, just begging to be bitten.

There's a thick patch of curls leading down to exactly where Simon wants his mouth like a glaring arrow.

The Scotsman barely offers him a glance as he makes work on Simon's belt and the dismissal has him leaking in his boxers

"Ken, son. A've git tattoos older than ye."

It's embarrassing, the way his hips buck up against the other man. He flushes scarlet from the tips of his ears down to his chest.

"Needy wee thing, aren't ye?"

Inspired by this really cute COD one shot Love in Every Hue by Mochi_Moka_Mocha

141 + NikPrice

GhostGaz (ftr RavenJelly)

Laswell and her wife :3