Bruce And Clark Have A Special Rooftop, One That Is High Enough, With Enough Things To Hide Them From

Saw this on a tiktok or ig I don't remember but I wanna do it price version:

Ghost enters Price office and sits on the couch, proceeds to do his paperwork there.

Price places his phone on the table and looks at Ghost from his chair: hey Ghost?

Ghost: yes captain?

Price: you hungry?

Ghost thinks for second: a bit, why?

Price: wanna eat what my mother made?

Ghost still looking over his paperwork: did she sent stuff? That's nice. What is it?

Price: Me.

Ghost drops his paperwork and begins to have a coughing fit while blushing under the mask: what?!?!?!?

Price: so?

Ghost thinks for a second before sighing and proceeds to take his mask: lock the door please.

Can someone do something with birdflash and that frank ocean song that is trending on tiktok??

141's Princess (Someone is flirting with Kyle?)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Soap can vouche for the following information, as someone that befriended Gaz the moment he laid eyes on him and who knows almost every deep secret.

Kyle Gaz Garrick doesn't know when people are flirting with him.

Soap knows that this is a fact, an historical one at that, because the scott was victim of such condition. It took soap saying directly that he was flriting with Gaz for 1) the man understand the situation 2) for gaz to flirt back. After that, he found out that Gaz is very good at flirting and amazing at dirty talking.

Anyways, it's more like Gaz thinks that people won't flirt with him from the start, like he knows he's not like soap, funny and sociable, he's quieter likes alone time and prefers to be in the background. Gaz became a source of quiet for soap when he needed, a silent support for Price in anxious times, and a sleep partner for Ghost when his insomnia was at it's worse. Gaz was a pillar in their little relationship and someone they treasure any time they can.

No one flirts with Gaz, and so the 141 didn't even phantom that such thing would happen, they were secure - not only because of Gaz lack of flirt detector, but because gaz was their little treasure - that no kind of that action was needed.

On this day, soap was baffled. He was siting next to price in the mess hall, food eaten just waiting for the older man to finish, they were with gaz but the man had something to do so he left early. He looked towards the entrance of the mess, squinted his eyes and-

Was that someone flirting with Gaz?

Soap was the person with the most knowledge of flirting, so he was not mistaken in his hypothesis. No, that was a man ready to use all his cards on the oblivious and polite sergeant that was his Gaz.

"Hey, Cap" Soap nudge the olders arm, making him almost choke on his food, that earned him a glare from Price, but that wasn't important "sorry! But someone is flirting with your baby" Soap said while pointing to the entrance.

"Wha-" Price looked at the entrance and there, lo and behold, a visiting sergeant that price should really know the name but doesn't remember, is standing way too close to his baby (yes, Kyle is always gonna be his baby) with a smirk, dark eyes and hands way too touchy, trying to flirt with Gaz the best he could. However, Gaz was just standing there, hands to himself polite smile that did not reach his eyes "he doesn't even realize that he's flirting with him."

"Cap, please, I told him his ass was a dessert that I wanted to taste and he said thank you, I had to tell him I was trying to flirt with him."

Price shrugs "that settles it. GAZ, COME HERE." Price called out to the sergeant, who politely excused himself from the other man to the table.

"Yes, sir?" Gaz asked sitting on the chair next to the captain, who then pulled him flush against his side.

"I was just saving you from the excessive flirting over there."

Gaz made a confused sound "flirting? Sergeant Williams wasn't flirting with me."

Both Price and Soap blinked once, twice at him, disbelief written all over their faces "aye, Gaz, kitty, you telling me that you think he was being nice out of his own violation and not chasing that ass?"

"Jesus Soap not everyone is as horny as you. And yes he was being nice, he was asking some questions about our training method and how we teach the rookies."

Price raised a brow "and the smirk, lip licking, lidded eyes, hands on your arms didn't give it away?"

"What? Soap was and is like that too! He might have been a very touchy person!"

"Gaz I was trying to get into your pants, and I'm still actively doing that"

Gaz huff and stood "you are being ridiculous! He's just being friendly! Besides he probably wants Soap and not me! Anyways, I have to go, see you on movie night in Price's room."

"We gonna have a movie night?"

"NOW WE WILL!" Gaz answered back already out of the mess hall.

Price and Soap sat there for a while, reliving that interaction that left them hopeless and amazed. Sometimes, it didn't settle on them that Gaz was oblivious to an unreachable level, but when this kind of things happened they realized all over again and celebrate their milestones because how did they snatched such oblvious prick as their boyfriend?

"That was interesting."

"Ye know what's gonna be interesting?" Soap asked, standing from his chair. Price tilted his head in answer and the scott continued "when Ghost sees that dude flirting with Gaz."

Ah. That. They forgot about that.

I wanna paint a comics pages and I wanna start with DC so I wanna know what Batman, Batfam or Superman or any DC comic page should I paint!!!

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.

Soap is a menace in the club. Talking about crop top time and belly chains, talk about drinking and making new friends, talking about acting cheeky and risky just to piss off Ghost and Price when he comes (which isn't often)

Talking about going to the dance floor, in the direct line of vision of ghost, purposely dancing dirty and sexy because he knows he can shake his hips, mohawk messy and cheeks flushed. Taking soap to the club either ends up on the bathroom or barely making to the bed.

Well, Kyle decided to come to see why Ghost would complain about going to the club with soap but still going. Price came along too.

Kyle is not social, actually he prefers to settled down on a corner and drink his bear while people watching. He can talk with one or two people but being in the club meant more of a quiet time for him. Price is like that too but likes to go with company.

That said, Soap dressed up Kyle just to realize that the man wouldn't join him. And Kyle realized that Soap was true menace in the club.

And very beautiful too.

Okay I can't think of anymore to write I just wanted to out this idea

*bucky phone rings*

Yelena: *who was close to the phone* uhhh bucky, babydoll is calling.

Bucky: oh, better answer that.

Alexei: is that your beloved?

Bucky: yeah it's my husband

Yelena: You have a husband?!?

Ava: since when are you married?!?

Bob: *genuinely curious* do we know him?

Walker: *pretending to be busy*

Bucky: yeah, it's captain america

Thun-new avengerz*: WHAT!?!?

yeah poly 141...but I don't see gaz in it???

As an apology for the heavy angst lately

I really like the hc of Bruce giving star stickers for those who behaved well (as well as they can be) and taking them if they misbehave, the kids make a competition out of it and make fun of those who lost a star.

Bruce: this week's stars goes to...

Batkids: *all looking at Bruce*

Bruce: Dick, Tim and Cass.

Damian: Father! I do not approve of such thing!

Bruce: you don't have to approve anything damian. Dick did a great work in Blüdhaven and didn't threaten more than 3 people, Tim completed his homework and helped me Crack two cases without any stalker tactics, and Cass helped Alfred bake which was very sweet.

Jason: I don't understand the rules to receive a star, but I'm with demon brat.

Duke: *raising his hand along with stephs* we didn't do anything wrong!

Bruce: you skipped patrol the whole week.

Steph: I was busy!

Bruce: *adding the stars to their cards* no you weren't, you were just lazy. *turns towards Jason and damian* you two do get one star taken away.

Damian: unbelievable! Father I will not allow it!

Jason: I behaved pretty well this week in my opinion.

Bruce: you threaten every villain we saw, waved your gun around like a maniac and had to be stopped twice from using the crowbar.

Jason: like I said pretty well behaved.

But this also extents to Sups. Clark has little stars that he gives batman when the man passed a whole JL meeting without insulting, indirect insulting and looking condescendingly or glaring at someone. He also has them taken away when he did those things.

Bruce: that wasn't a glare, I was merely looking.

Clark: B u scared Bart for the third time this week, and yes that was a glare.

Bruce: *crossing his arms* I think you are being unfair about this thing.

Clark: I'm sorry Bruce, but I have to take a star from you today.

Bruce: no.

Clark: *raising a brow* no?

Bruce: *starting to lightly jog away from clark* no! It's my star!

Clark: Bruce come back here!