Bfs Possessive Over Bats Part 2

Sometimes I scroll through twt and here on the cod tag and stuff and I be thinking...why does no one draws gaz like bro I see more Konig art on the mw tag and he's not even in that universe give some love to gaz pls

Idk if u realized but I really love gaz

Gaz angst part 2??? (141 side)

Soap didn't even get a goodbye or a text from Kyle. He heard from Price that Kyle had been requested to Farah temporarily, meaning it was when Farah said he could come back.

Soap was sad and hurt. Why hadn't Kyle said anything to him? They were best friends! They shared everything with each other. But, apparently not everything was said. He had thought that them finally being in a romantic relationship would bring them together even more, closer than ever.

It had the opposite effect.

Soap and Kyle remained...stagnant. while he got closer to Ghost and even more closer to Price, with Kyle nothing changed besides the adding the sex and the kissing. There was no new findings or sudden revelations, nothing the way that happened with the other two.

It reached a point, when the new sergeant appeared, that Kyle started to hide. He didn't spend much time together with the others, it got to a point that suddenly who was soap prank partner was the new sergeant, the one that went to the club was the new sergeant, and every single activity that he used to do with Kyle, it was done with the new sergeant.

And now...Kyle was already on the plane when Soap got to the departing zone. No words left for him, just a mere "I don't think so" said to Price.

Although Soap was perceptive, quite observant, and always in tune with his loves emotions, Soap cannot find what happened, what led to this moment, what did they do to end up like this.

Ghost knew the reason for this, but he didn't do anything about, so he was as much guilty as the other two.

And it was crushing him inside.

Ghost saw how while soap, him and Price were getting closer, keeping already formed and constructed old bonds, Kyle was being left behind, with no ways of bonding the same way they did.

The 3 of them bonded over past interactions that led to friendships, over traumas and dark moments because they had them, over being men with scars so deep. They had foundation to bond even more, but Kyle hadn't, Kyle appeared at that moment, Kyle went through the normal processes of military, Kyle had a good family, Kyle had lively a fairly uneventful life and that made him the sore thumb in their relationship because...how could they bond.

Kyle tried, oh how ghost saw the youngest sergeant try every book in the game, but the fruit of his efforts could no grow because they didn't allow him to. Ghost realized that he didn't know anything about Kyle besides what his file said. He didn't know what the man liked, what he did in his free time, his interests, his talents, his flaws. Ghost realized, as the new sergeant made way and fitted exactly in Kyle's spot, that Ghost only saw Kyle as a military asset, not as his lover or friend, he only saw Kyle's performance, nothing more.

As he watched the plane go, slightly behind soap, that they deserved this, they deserved a silent disappearance from Kyle.

Ghost heart silently crushed as he saw what they had done.

Price didn't even go see Kyle depart.

Alex had called him, scolded him that almost asked for a write up, but Price it was coming from a close friend to another, and the captain knew that he deserved that scolding and much more. Alex then passed the phone to Farah, but she spoke calmly and short, which made Price feel even worse.

"I warned you about Kyle, and I gave u an out because I would act if u hurt him and you did, I hope all that stupid effort you did was worth this out come."

He should had gone and seen Kyle depart, but he didn't feel dignified or even worth of it. Price had hurt the most fragile member of their four way relationship, after many warned about it.

He needed to get ready for Laswell disappointment, she being the one person that cautioned him the most.

Price had sworn to protect Kyle heart and mind. Kyle's anxiety was a constant barrier in his life, a reminder that he wasn't as strong as he thought he was, his feelings always easily coming to the surface. He was fragile, more than the others thought he was, and Price promise the young man that he would protect.

Look what happened.

They pushed him away, consciously or not put him in a category under them because his live was not as complicated as theirs. They created his relationship where it was 3 plus Kyle because they sometimes remember he existed. The new sergeant worsen that because this man had a similar life as them, broken by other and scarred as much them, so they pushed Kyle back fully.

They broke Kyle enough to make him excited to leave them, to not believe they loved him.

As the plane flew, Price sat on his office, tears silently running down his face, knowing that he broke a promise made to his love.

I'm gonna draw the whole batfam (except Alfred, I'm sorry my dude) as pin up lingerie dolls bc I want AND NO ONE CAN FUCKING STOP ME

steady now, Sergeant

Gaz who gets caught in a building during it falling on an operation.

Ghost who pushes him to the ground sheltering gaz's whole body with his huge frame.

Gaz who comes too with a bleeding unconscious Ghost on-top of him, and has to struggle to carry him to the safe house.

Ghost who allows Gaz to take the mask off to treat his wounds.

Gaz who realises just how pretty Ghost is, and is trying not to flush pink while stitching him up.

Ghost who falls asleep on Gaz feeling comfortable enough to do so.

Gaz who absently braids his lieutenants hair.

The rough idea of something I'm writing.

Genuinely curious what part of Gaz makes people say he's not that interesting..

To the point of him getting excluded

Is it the lack of mask?? Price and Soap isn't wearing any, he's not dilf enough? Soap is babyfaced..

Seriously, they usually don't say out loud what i was thinking of.. but if you're genuinely thinking he's uninteresting but not at the fact that he's black, then what?

Price: sunshine?

Soap: yes, captain?

Price: baby?

Gaz: yes, captain?

Price: little baby boy, cutie patotie, sweetheart, light of my life?

Ghost: what the actual f?!?!

It has come to Bruce's attention that Kon-El might be romantically interested in his son. So of course, he decides to investigate (subtly). Starting with...

Bruce: Tim.

Tim: Bruce.

The following silence lasts for ten seconds.

Bruce: How would you describe your relationship with Superboy?

Tim: Uh, pretty good?

Bruce: Pretty good? Can you be more specific? How does he interact with you?

Tim: I mean, he keeps sending me selfies in the weirdest places. One time, Kon sent one with a thumbs up while the background was clearly during a mission and our teammates were chucking basketballs at these weird alien plant vines. I was there too, so it makes even less sense. Like, why would he send me a selfie of where he is when I was like fifteen feet away?

After taking a moment to...digest what just came out of his kid's mouth, Bruce decides to investigate their relationship some other time.

More pressingly, he needs to know the details of this mission and why this is the first he's hearing of it.

Tim: Actually, Dick was there too. He was wrestling with a vine. And not like fighting wrestling, but arm wrestling. With a vine.

Bruce can't stop himself from asking: Did he win?

Tim: He did! I'll send you the video and you can hear the vine grunting and hissing while everyone was cheering Nightwing on!

Bruce: They were cheering him on, while throwing basketballs at the other vines?

Tim: Yep.

Bruce: And what were you doing during this?

Tim points to the video on his phone: Capturing the moment and giving orders at the same time. Don't worry, I can multitask.

Bruce: So you ordered them to throw basketballs at the vines.

Tim nods: Strategic distraction while we lead the alien plant vines to a trap.

Bruce: And why was Nightwing arm wrestling one particular vine?

Tim: To boost morale. Also, Kon double-dog dared him.

Bruce: Tim.

Tim: What?

Bruce just sighs.

Tassels

Johnny's knee hurts. Price helps him feel better.

cw: messy blowjob. For the @continentcakeshop, who love Johnny.

Johnny shifted his foot for the third time in ten minutes and felt the now familiar twinge through his knee. He couldn't decide what was worse; the constant dull ache of keeping it stationary, like it needed to click, which was driving him batshit insane, or the sharp burn of a quick stretch that made his entire body jolt, knocking the table he was sharing with the boss man himself.

“You broken?” Price asked, tapping the blunt nib of his biro against the manilla folder by his form.

“Naw, sir. Jus’ me bum knee. S’givin’ me grief cause it's cald outside.”

“You been t’ the physio?”

“Not fer a few weeks. No time, ye know…” Johnny gestured aimlessly at the paperwork in front of him. When he'd signed up at fifteen and nine months, he hadn't expected to spend so long with a damn pen in his hand instead of a firearm.

Price hummed and Johnny watched his whiskers twitch as they tended to do when he was mulling something over. Then came the full face grimace as he considered his options. The biro clattered to the table moments later, the chair legs scraping against the concrete floor. “Olrigh’, can't ‘ave ya fallin’ behind. Keks down, leg up ‘ere.”

Johnny blinked owlishly, first at Price's hands as they patted his lap and then at the intense blue eyes watching him from beneath thick eyebrows. “Come again.”

“C’mon, MacTavish. Don't ‘ave all day. Boot off, drop ‘em. Quick rub down will make it feel better.”

Oh, he wasn't taking the piss. Well, shit. Johnny glanced at Price's hands again, big, weathered, with long clever fingers and a scar across the knuckles from where Price had skinned them open on the steel-plated jaw of a Kortac operator. The thought of having them on his body in any capacity made a sudden surge of heat fill his belly.

His knee gave another unrepentant throb and he stood awkwardly to undo his belt, jamming the heel of his boot against the toe of the other to kick it off before loosening the laces. He managed to slide his leg out, the knee support catching on his waistband, before slumping back into the chair. His foot hovered off the floor, suddenly conscious of how fuckin’ filthy his sock was. And how tight his boxers were.

“Ain't got all night,” Price said. “Stop bein’ a pansy. Ain't gonna ‘urt ya.”

Johnny scowled and extended his leg, setting it gingerly across Price's lap while his hands cupped over his crotch. “Naw one says pansy any more, old man.”

Price raised an eyebrow as he hooked Johnny's knee support and coaxed it down his calf muscle, bunching it at his ankle as he wrinkled his nose. “This sock ever seen a washin’ machine?”

“Oh feck, now ye really sound like me pa.”

“I was eleven years old when you were born, I ain't yer dad, MacTavish.” Price chucked the support and the filthy sock onto the floor and ran his thumbs up the sides of Johnny’s leg, pressing into the swollen ligaments and tendons either side of his patella. The sensation sat keenly on the threshold of pain and pleasure; Price couldn't press too hard without oil, but his pressure was damn perfect.

“Oh, fuck… mmm, aye, but I c’n still call ye dad–”

“If ya finish that sentence, ‘m gonna dislocate yer knee cap.”

“Aye, sir."

Johnny tried to stay quiet. He yapped when he was nervous and Jesus wept he was nervous now. Not because it hurt - god, fuck, Price’s hands were a damn dream - but because the heat in his belly was spreading out through the rest of him; a warm, fuzziness humming just below his skin. As the dull ache ebbed into a low throb, Johnny’s chin tilted down and his eyes lidded. He watched those strong hands work, manipulating his muscles and tendons like putty, pressing to and fro in easy glides that left Johnny lightheaded.

Johnny bit back a moan. Price was good. He knew what he was doing. Didn't stay only around the knee, but rubbed behind it and slightly down the calf to ease the resulting tension from where the rest of his leg was overcompensating. That was all fine… it was when those thumbs went up his thigh, one on the hairy outside, the other up the milky soft skin of the inner, that the whole arrangement got a bit spicy.

Johnny was getting hard. Proper hard, not just a cheeky little chubby. He could feel the wet patch in the cotton where his leaking tip was pushing up against his palm. Fuck, fuck. His eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to distract himself. Mentally listing off the steps for stripping a gun, the ingredients for a pipe bomb, the starting fifteen for Man City–

“Ev’ryfin olrigh’, Soap?”

Johnny’s eyes blinked open and he realised he'd been damn panting. Price hadn't stopped though. One hand had wandered a little higher, massaging his thigh muscle while the other cupped beneath his calf. Just a little higher and he could slide his cock into his captain's palm. Those callouses would feel unreal against the silky skin of his shaft… no, no, normal thoughts. Normal.

“Aye, sir. Sorry. Jus’... Uh…”

“Feels good,” Price finished for him. “Been a while for more ‘an jus’ physio then.” There was a wry amusement to his tone and Johnny’s lower lip pushed up in a pout, his face flushing red.

“S’not what it looks like.”

“Looks like yer hard from a little tenderness, sergeant.”

“Fuck, don't tell anyone, ah’ll do dogsbody in officer’s mess fer a whole month.”

“Oof, humiliatin’.”

“Not as humiliatin’ as Garrick takin’ the pish cause ah got a stonner for me captain,” Johnny blurted out, making it infinitely worse. “Fuck.”

Price snorted a laugh and Johnny’s eyes blew owlishly wide again. Those big hands were still working; any pain had faded, and only a warm pleasure remained, pressure coiling in his groin. Price hummed. “Maybe I can help ya with that too. If yer up for it.”

“What?” Johnny squeaked. Price was a gay man. That was no secret. He was one of the few gay men in the service that Johnny had ever encountered that endured precisely fuck all abuse about it. No cunt was daft enough to even try. Johnny had been too feart to own his sexuality, but Price had probably heard Grindr ping one too many times to be left under any illusion that Johnny was straight.

“Yer not the only one goin’ through a bit of a dry spell. Offer’s there.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. He couldn't lift his eyes from Price's hands, watching those strong thumbs circle either side of his knee again, prick throbbing in the confines of his boxers. Of all the days to wear his snug Calvin Kleins that left nothing to the imagination. The bulge had filled his palms now. He could pull away, put a stop to it, but he didn't want to. He wanted Price’s hand wrapped around his prick. “Aye.”

“Whot?”

“Aye, sir… ah’d like some… help,” Johnny finished lamely, his fingers tightening over his cock as he shifted his arse in the chair.

Price blinked at him slowly, leaning back in his chair. Johnny’s leg shifted a little, foot tilting out, and he saw it for the first time. A huge fuck off bulge in the front of Price's Carhartts. “Oh-ho, fuck me, look at the size of it,” Johnny wheezed, and then clicked his mouth shut, lips sucked in so he could chew on them before murmuring, “Respectfully… sir.”

Price chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face, nails raking down through his beard around the edges of his grin. “‘m gonna be glad ev’ryone's on leave, un’ I?”

Johnny flushed to the tips of his ears. “Ah can be wheesht.”

“Nah, don't be.” Price took Johnny's ankles and lowered his leg slowly to the floor. Johnny licked his lips as anticipation bubbled in his chest, hands still clasped over his crotch despite the futility of trying to hide his erection. His eyes somehow widening further as Price slipped from his seat and onto his knees between Johnny’s feet.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Johnny breathed, hands shaking as Price took them and guided them away from where they still cupped protectively over his cock. He felt the warm puff of Price's breath over the hair on his belly and the damp spot on his boxers, and his toes curled against the floor. Those weathered fingers stroked up his thighs, over soft cotton to the elastic of his waistband. Johnny’s cock flicked gratefully free, ruddy and dark compared to the rest of him, and he sucked in a sharp hiss through his teeth as cool air found his wet slit.

“Well, pretty all over, ain’tcha, sergeant?”

Johnny knew he had a nice dick, good girth, nice upward curve to hit all the right spots and a respectable length. He'd taken enough selfies with it and then had his phone blow up to know, but to hear Price say it in that silky rumble made him go weak. His hips squirmed, and he bit his lower lip as Price's beard rubbed on his inner thigh, followed by the softness of his lips as he kissed a trail up. Johnny fingers bit into the outside of his legs as they pushed out, urging Price to get to his destination. “Please, sir…”

“Relax, soldier. I gotcha.”

Finally, Price grasped Johnny’s cock, fingers pushing through the coarse thatch of hair at the base. Johnny let out a soft whine, shaft flicking in Price’s grip as a thick pearl of precum welled from his slit. It was sweet, sweet torture. A mixture of relief and yearning that made his entire body light up. Price’s thumb swept below his waistband, brushing the swell of his sac, before he stroked up, fingers brushing over the flare of Johnny’s crown.

Johnny groaned, head flopping back because he needed to briefly thank fucking God for blessing his dick and promise to visit confession at some point in the next decade to repent for lusting after his captain's hands and mouth. He couldn't take his fucking eyes off Price for long, and he looked back in time to watch Pricd ease his his foreskin back, the wicked tip of his tongue pushing though Johnny’s slit to lap it clean of pre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… god, shite, ahh, sir, mmm.”

The lines around Price's eyes deepened in amusement, and then his eyes slid closed in what Johnny could only describe as bliss as he kissed the thick vein down Johnny's length, brushing the tip of his nose across silky skin until it buried against Johnny's groin with a soft groan. “Mm, fuck, ya smell good.”

Johnny spread his legs a little further, lifting his arse when Price tugged his boxers to bring them further down his thighs. The heat of his mouth enveloped Johnny’s balls, his tongue pressing down the seam, Johnny's cock resting against his cheek as he tasted his full. Johnny panted through parted lips, one hand finally leaving his leg to slide around the back of his captain's head to pull his face closer. “Aye… sir, fuck… ahh.”

The moan that rumbled from Price’s chest rolled up Johnny’s body like an earthquake, and he heard the clatter of a buckle as Price fumbled with his belt to free his cock. Jacking himself off to the taste of Johnny’s sac in his mouth. When he finally drew away, he left Johnny's dark curls wet with spit, his blue eyes lidded, drunk on Johnny's musk and the pleasure of his hand pumping slowly up and down his own cock.

“God, yer a fuckin’ bonny picture, sir. Love tae suck cock, eh? Fuck.”

Price didn't say anything, just licked back up the underside of Johnny’s prick to draw the tip into his mouth. The wet glide of Price's tongue around his glans made Johnny groan, and he lifted his hips, pressing his tip over the ridges at the top of Price's mouth, fingers tightening at the back of his head. Price didn't need much encouragement to sink down, but he did so at his own pace, slowly, torturously, sucking Johnny deeper into the glorious wet heat of his mouth until Johnny’s head hit the back of his throat.

Johnny held him there for moment, admiring the stretch of his lips around the heft of his shaft, the lidded, fucked out enjoyment in his eyes, the way his broad shoulders were completely relaxed as he palmed himself lazily. Bonny was right. Johnny wondered what he'd be like on his back with his hands pinned above his head, what his moans might sound like when they weren't muffled by cock…

Price drew off, sucking greedily until he reached the tip, before lowering again in a steady glide, fucking his own mouth on Johnny's prick. Johnny moaned loudly with each dip of Price’s head, his thighs shaking as warm, irresistible pleasure curled in his hips, through his belly, his balls firming up beneath Price's chin. “Ah, ah, sir, fu-mm, fuck, yer mouth… is… ahh.”

And then Price swallowed him down proper. Johnny felt the pop as his head pushed into Price's throat, the clenching tightness made him choke out a low, trembling moan, Price’s nose buried against his groin. The sound of Price’s pumping hand, the wet slap of skin, grew more urgent and the thought that Price was even more turned on by having Johnny in his throat was dizzying. When he began to bob his head again, half choking on Johnny’s cock, Johnny knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

He didn't know where to put his hands, bunching Price's hair between his fingers, scrubbing them over his beard just feels the bristles against his fingertips, sliding them down his throat to feel his Adam's apple bob and strain around his cock.

His heels lifted from the floor, toes pushing into the cold concrete, a sharp contrast to the blistering, pulsing heat of his captain's mouth as it milked him. He babbled incoherently, half Scots, half unintelligible English slurred out like a drunk at last orders, delirious with pleasure as saliva and precum pooled around his groin. His thumb stroked over Price's cheeks, pressing to feel the glide of his shaft through them and trace the damp of the tears that tracked from hazy blue eyes.

“Sir, ah’m, sir…” Johnny tried to tug him off because a gentleman didn't cum down a fella’s throat without asking, but Price fucking growled like a wolf having its meal stolen and that was enough to punch Johnny over into a heady climax. “Sir, fuck!” His stomach clenched, toes pushing against the floor as his hips lifted from the chair. Price kept sucking, drinking every drop offered by Johnny’s twitching prick. It coaxed him higher until he was whimpering in fucked out bliss, his fingers shaking in his captain's hair. Just as he was tipping over into oversensitivity, Price pulled off and pressed his face into the sweaty crease of Johnny's thigh, arm moving furiously, hips humping as he fucked his own grip.

“Yeah, g’won, sir, gonna come for me, liked havin’ my prick down ye throat, belly full of my cum.” Johnny stroked Price’s hair and watched his eyes roll back, his shoulders seizing, as he came hard into his fist. He panted between Johnny's legs, catching his breath for a moment, before he slumped back into his heels. Johnny took the opportunity to look down at his prick, still semi-hard, and he sucked in a breath. “Fuck, look at tha’ beast… ye top with tha’ weapon?”

“Only if you ya’sk nicely,” Price rasped. The sound of his throat, fucked raw, made Johnny's soft prick twitch against his thigh.

“How nicely?”

“State secret. S’classified.”

“I’ll steal L.T.’s clearance,” Johnny replied testily, and his hunch was rewarded with a quirk of the eyebrows. “Knew it.”

Price chuckled hoarsely. “Clean up. Got work t’ finish.” He rolled to his feet and for a beautiful moment his cock bobbed close to Johnny’s face. Be seein’ ye soon, sweet thing.

“Can't, ye jus’ sucked me brain out me prick.”

“Now, MacTavish.”

Johnny's mouth clicked shut, and then he mumbled a “yessir” as he pulled his boxers and jeans back on. He'd be lying if he said it was somewhat difficult to focus on the reports for the rest of the evening, especially when he lifted a foot to tease Price's crotch and the bastard spread his legs to give access. Didn't even flinch though. Wily git.