Look At Him Go

"poly141" Where. Is. GAZ.

The robins being siblings

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Dick: Don’t stay up all night, Tim. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt.

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Tim: Enough! How dare you mock me in such a manner!?

Damian: Well. How would you like me to mock you? I take requests.

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Dick: You know you can die from that, right?

Jason: *smoking a cigarette* That’s the point.

Tim: *drinking alcohol* We’re trying to speed this up.

Damian: *Eating raw cookie dough and nodding*

_________________________________________

Tim: Why is Jason crying on the floor?

Damian: They took one of those 'which super hero are you?' quizzes.

Tim: And?

Damian: He got Nightwing.

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Tim: What do we think of Jason?

*pause*

Damian: He is an adequate opponent.

Dick: I think he's gay.

This is absolutely amazing and absolutely canon

Imagine Ghost accidentally conditioning the 141...

Ghost is busy. Always. Too much paperwork, too many reports, too many logistics to handle before training. It’s 1400 before he realizes he’s skipped lunch. Again.

Not a big deal. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.

But he is hungry.

His eyes land on the bright pink bag of Valentine’s Day mini Snickers that’s been sitting, untouched, on his desk for a week. They were part of a bulk shipment to the base; some gift or something.

Not exactly lunch. But it’ll do.

He grabs the bag and heads for the training field. He’s two minutes late, not that it matters much because Soap and Gaz already have the unit ready.

"Where’s Price?" he asks, tearing open the bag as he walks up.

"Got pulled away. You’ve got this one, Sir," Gaz replies, raising a brow as Ghost lifts his mask just enough to pop a Snickers into his mouth.

Ghost doesn’t react, just grunts.

Today’s drill is a simple infiltration exercise. Hell, it's something Ghost or Price hardly have to be here for. Their presence would be more of a formality. Gaz leads the attackers. Soap leads the defenders. The teams get ten minutes to plan, to prep.

And then Ghost sounds the time up, and the groups move.

Ghost watches, leaning against a crate, chewing another Snickers, barely paying attention to one of the new guys—until the kid steps right into a trap. Ghost sees it before he does.

Blue powder erupts into his face.

Soap’s defenders descend, but the kid doesn’t go down easily. Blind, but still fighting back, holding his own until his team pulls him out.

Soap's team wins. Barely.

When it’s over, the teams regroup. Ghost is still eating Snickers.

He turns to the recruit, still dusted blue.

"What 'appened?"

"Didn’t see the wire." The kid shifts uncomfortably.

Ghost turns to the unit. "Who set it?"

One of the defenders raises a hand. Ghost considers him for a moment before reaching into the bag.

He tosses a mini-Snickers at the soldier.

The guy catches it. Looks at it. Looks at Ghost. Eats it.

Ghost turns back to the newbie. "Held your own. Tha' matters. Surprises happen. Don’t let ‘em get you again."

And that’s it. Training’s dismissed. Ghost pockets the rest of the Snickers and moves on.

...

The next day, Price is still gone. Ghost doesn’t skip lunch this time, but he still brings the Snickers bag.

They run the same drill.

Same recruit. Same route. But this time, he checks everything. Quick. Efficient. Finds the wire. Disarms it.

No blue powder today.

Gaz’s team wins.

Ghost eyes the recruit and flicks a Snickers at him. The kid catches it mid-air.

...

By the end of the week, Price is still gone. Ghost keeps the pink bag of Snickers on him during training. Like it's just another part of his kit.

One or two mini snickers get handed out every session. And nobody really notices at first. But the team starts moving differently.

They work harder. Smarter. More ruthless. More efficient. No one wants to be the guy who doesn’t get a Snickers.

Even the veterans sharpen their tactics. Gaz and Soap notice. But no one says a damn thing. If Ghost is going to give them snickers, then shut the gel up and let him give them snickers.

...

They're sent on a mission. High stakes.

They don't lose a single man. Not a single injury.

At the end of it, back on their transport home, Ghost pulls the pink danm bag from some unassuming pocket and hands out the snickers.

The men take them without question. They earned it.

But Ghost is running low. The bag nearly empty.

...

At the next training, Ghost doesn't hand out a single snickers. Not on purpose, but the bag is empty, so there's nothing left to do.

But the others notice. Gaz squints. Soap looks like a confused dog. Head tilt and all. The newbies glance at each other, shifting.

...

Two days later, Ghost swings his door open at 0600 sharp—and pauses.

Sitting just outside his door, neat as you please, is a bag of mini Snickers. Not the Valentine’s ones anymore. Just regular.

Ghost blinks. Hums. Pleasantly surprised, he picks up the bag, inspecting it briefly before stuffing it into his tac vest like it’s just another piece of gear.

He doesn’t think much of it. It’s a good snack.

At training, he does as he always does. Watches. Observes. Evaluates.

And then, without thinking, he tosses a Snickers at a recruit who clears a building faster than expected.

He snaps to attention as he catches it, eyes shining. Ghost does not question it.

The pattern continues.

And when he starts running low, Ghost finds a fresh bag of Snickers waiting for him.

Somebody—somewhere—has decided that the Snickers will not run out.

...

At training, at drills, in the field, there is a silent expectation. A new, unspoken rule. Do something exceptional? Get a Snickers.

The machine of the 141—the deadliest operators in the world—now snaps to attention at the crinkle of plastic.

They move with a ruthless kind of precision, bodies coiled, eyes sharp—waiting, anticipating.

Even Gaz and Soap are part of it now—though everyone refuses to acknowledge it outright.

But the moment Ghost hands one of his men a Snickers, he takes it.

Silently. Gratefully. Like a goddamn reward.

Ghost does not acknowledge this. Not out loud. But he keeps handing them out.

And they keep earning them.

They'd quite literally kill for a Snickers. (imagine what they'd do for an expensive piece of chocolate)

...

And then Price comes back three weeks later. He walks into the training area and pauses.

Something is off.

The unit is too sharp. Too focused. The newbies stand stock still in their group, as if waiting for something.

Gaz and Soap exchange a look. Soap refuses to meet Price’s eyes.

But he doesn't acknowledge it, until he begins unwrapping a plastic sleeve holding a new pen. The plastic is thick and loud. And half of their fucking head snaps his way. The hungry eyes of three dozen of soldiers latching on him.

Ghost, standing at the edge of the group, tears open a fresh bag of Snickers.

And now the entire fucking unit reacts. Subtle shifts in stance. Focused attention. Expectant silence.

Price squints. Frowns.

Ghost flicks a Snickers at a recruit. He earned it today.

The recruit catches it like it’s a holy offering and eats it immediately.

Price’s frown deepens. Slowly, carefully, he turns to Ghost. “The fuck did I miss?”

‘But there, I believe my looks are against me.’ ‘They are – at first sight at any rate,’ laughed Pippin with sudden relief after reading Gandalf ’s letter. 'But handsome is as handsome does, as we say in the Shire; and I daresay we shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches.’ 'It would take more than a few days, or weeks, or years, of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider,’ he answered. 'And you would die first, unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be.’

Honestly, I don’t know what part to highlight about this:

1. The fact that the Shire apparently has a saying about how people look like what they do, implying that they either go by the physiognomy theory of “bad people look bad”, or they accept that people will look like the jobs they do, and it is considered a good thing.

2. Pippin joking that a few days camping will make them look weathered like a guy who has been repetitively described as being the epitome of a wild ranger. It’s kind of sweet, it feels like he has picked up that Strider is self-conscious about his looks and is trying to reassure him in a very Pippin way.

3. Strider taking it completely literally and answering with a very ominous “you’ll die before you look like me, because you need to be stronger than you look to survive what I do”. Dramatic bitch.

4. Strider talking about himself in third person. Dork.

5. Strider completely underestimating hobbits’ resilience. Just because he has been around the Shire for ages it doesn’t mean he can’t fall into the same trap every other character in this falls. No, Strider. They don’t have to be made of sterner stuff to survive what you have survived. You would have to be made of sterner stuff to survive what they can get through.

Look at my little guy

Non-sexual things that COD people do to drive their SO feral? Thoughts?

- John with his tippy toe hip thrust thing has Nik in a chokehold, also instead of moving a chair in like a normal person John does this little scooting/hip thrust/legs spread manoeuvre that is too good to ignore.

(Evidence of this is seen during the Cutscene of Kate and John meeting to discuss making Taskforce 141)

-Kate has a way of folding her arms and looking down at her that has Sarah turning to utter jelly. Kate also has restless hands, likes to tap, stroke and squeeze, so a simple repeated gesture such as drumming her fingers on her thigh from Kate has Sarah wondering how else to occupy her lovely wife's hands.

-Faralexgaz I think would love for almost domestic self care, watching Farah brush and braid her hair had her boys fidgeting and wanting to touch, watching Gaz rub in his hydration lotions makes the other two wanna lick it off and Alex doing his facial hair maintenance with the oiling and trimming has Gaz on his knees "Helping" while Farah holds the mirror for them.

- Ghoap where Soap goes feral seeing how Ghost's mask moves, he can SEE when ghost's tongue wets his lips under that thing and he wants that tongue in his mouth immediately. He's a Victorian man seeing a scrap of ankle every smoke break when he sees Ghost lift the balaclava for a ciggie (Never mind the fact he knows exactly what's under the balaclava intimately)

-Alerudy with Alejandro being utterly pavloved when Rudy adjusts his leather belt, the sound of it is like ringing a dinner bell for a starved man. Also if Alejandro takes his gloves off with his teeth, it's not exactly Rudy's fault if he wants them in his mouth afterwards.

-Graves getting a little power trip from all the "Yup Yups" from his people, he's very touchy even during basic pre-check for missions so the shadows are all definitely angling themselves to make sure he touches them as he passes.

This was like a cool glass of lemonade on a warm day. Like waking up only to realise that you have three hours before your alarm goes off and you can go back to sleep. Like when you're six drinks in and vodka is now tasteless.

A blessing.

John Price's little hip thrust move is responsible for several casualties, Nikolai included. Sometimes he doesn't even realise he's doing it but the minute Nikolai spots it, his eyes are on John's crotch. John moves his hips far more than he thinks he does and all Nikolai can think of is the times he's stood behind the Englishman and made him buck up into Nik's hand instead of stroking his cock like John had so nicely asked.

When Kate crosses her arms and looks at you, it feels like she's looking down on you. It isn't intentional, she just has that intimidating feel to her and Sarah eats it up. But when they're at a bar and there's a table of men acting rowdy, Kate is irritated and she has one elbow resting on the bar with her other hand trailing her nails up and down Sarah's thigh? Well, Sarah is glad she wore a skirt because Kate'll be needing easy access when Sarah drags them both home. They don't even make it upstairs into their bedroom, Kate fucks her up against their front door and the next morning she comes downstairs to find her own black lace panties by their welcome mat.

Farah's version of unwinding before bed is sitting down in one of Gaz's t-shirts and a stolen pair of Alex's boxers as she braids her hair. It's habit and she doesn't have to think twice about doing it. Alex and Gaz are amazed by it, how quickly and efficiently her hands move when she doesn't even have to look. It's hypnotic. And it has Gaz crawling on his knees over to the end of the bed where she's sitting to massage her shoulders only his hands slip under the shirt and it devolves from there. Watching Alex trim his moustache always turns into sex to the point that if he doesn't want to get interrupted part way through and have to come back to finish trimming it after they're all thoroughly fucked out then he has to hide from both Farah and Gaz.

God, Ghost lifting the balaclava just enough to smoke. Soap is staring at him with dazed eyes like he just watched Ghost hand place the stars. Something about it feels personal to him, being allowed to see that bit of Ghost when he's in the "uniform" despite the fact that he has not only seen Ghost naked but he's also had the other man's cock in his mouth. But that little flash of skin, that has him damn near panting like a fucking dog.

Alejandro upon seeing Rudy's shiny new leather belt realises two things. One, introducing leather into their sex life might've been a bad idea because now he can't see it on the other man without feeling horny. Two, if Rudy doesn't tie him down, gag him with that belt and ride him until Alejandro's crying and begging him to stop then he might explode. The first time Rudy watches Laejandro pull his gloves off with his teeth, Rudy almost walks directly in the path of a moving vehicle. He blames his concussion, it's only partly to blame. Alejandro eventually notices that the action tends to render his sergeant major stupid and acts accordingly. The next time Rudy wears gloves, Alejandro pulls them off by the fingertips with his teeth and he barely has time to drop them from his mouth before he's yanked forward and mey with Rudy biting his lip while he unzips Ale's pants.

I think Graves is big on putting his hand on the back of someone's neck and squeezing because to him it's a friendly, reassuring touch. To his Shadows it's a memory for the wankbank because his hands are warm and his touch is firm. Graves himself, he knows there are eyes on him. He's their leader, he's God in this crowd of followers. They hang on his every word. Their importance is measured by him. There's little a hookup can do for him in comparison to how his Shadows eyes will follow his every move when he asks their attention.

rly lightweight elves bc it would b cool but mostly hilarious

elven men literally weighing nothing like the same as a bag of sugar

Caranthir being yeeted over Haleth shoulder and her being like lol omg this man is made of air

Legolas being so light that Gimli is like u weigh the same as two grapes and wearing him like a scarf

Tuor and Idrill climbing a tree and Idrill walking across a branch that when tuor does just gets destroyed

human being like what do u weigh? like 200lbs 170??? and elves just being like wow just fucking call me an oliphant why dont u

insert dwarves making jokes abt how they get blow away in the winds of their mountains

and insert some bs elf priests say abt how their hollow bones match that of manwes birds, of the woodwinds used to sing the first song

bby elves weighing nothing and their human hobbit or dwarf parent being like omg wheres the bby oh wait there they r

It’s common knowledge that Bilbo WILL stab a bitch

elrond: must you always attack me with words? durin: you want me to use rocks??

I need bratty sergeant and Simon Riley smut (im sorry if this is too blunt and also you don’t have to do this, okay ily)

"if you don't shut it, i'll shut it for you" / one-shot -> bratty!sergeant x simon riley [3] (can be read independently) part one - part two

⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist -> REQUESTS OPEN!

cw: smut smut smut, oral (simon recieving), fingering (r), edging, overstim, rough sex, helicopter-fuckin', "pup", consentual sex!!!, fingers in mouth, one face slap, "slut" x1, p in v, creampie

he's fucking tired, the lot of his muscles aching with a deep, cloying need. he wanted to collapse on his barrack and dissapear for a week. the helicopter rumbles with sound as he sits on a jumpseat, closing his eyes to lean his head back against the walls.

"Lt!" his eyes open, and he swears, if he hears your voice again, he's about to pick you up and throw you off the fuckin' chopper.

"did you see that shot i lined up? wasn't that so cool--"

"sergeant. if y'don't shut y'reself up, i'll stuff y'r mouth myself," simon mutters, and if looks could kill, you may as well be on the ground, bleeding out.

you pause for a second, and then start right back up, moving to sit right beside him, prattling on and on about the mission, about your plans when you get home--

then you went and leaned over. just close enough to check if he was really listening. you barely even noticed what you were doing, but he did. tits pressed against him, your head craning to see if he was actually paying attention.

"sergeant, what the hell did i tell you?"

you freeze. are you actually in trouble, this time? the rest of the ride is filled with a tense silence, and you stare at him awkwardly, giving him big, apologetic eyes every time he looks at you.

how can you blame him for acting the way he is? pent up to hell, cock clubbed up in his pants, straining needily against the fabric? he nearly dealt with it the moment you landed. he wanted to shut you up, and wanted to see you cry when he did.

"so fuckin' loud," he huffs under his breath, and the moment the rest of the squad leaves the helicopter, simon takes the opportunity to grab you as you're leaving, forcing you back into a jumpseat and slamming the door closed.

the moment your back hits the jumpseat, you should've known you were fucked. "you just don't stop talking, do you, sergeant? like a ditzy, dumb f'ckin' pup."

he stands over you, his hand tugging your chin upwards, "what'd i say? that if you ran your mouth, i'd shut you up, yeah? i just fuckin' might."

your breath quickens, and you dig your fingers into his forearm, trying to pull him off, "sir--m' sorry, won't talk as much--" here you were, thinking he was going to sentence you to a thousand pushups and a hundred laps around base, but simon had other ideas.

"shut up." he stuffs his thumb into your mouth, pressing the digit down against your tongue.

you let out a strangled choking sound, blinking up at him in surprise. "god, m' gonna stuff your fuckin' mouth..." his eyes are dark, heavily lidded, and as you search past the mask, you note the lust taking over the forefront of his mind. "nod, lass, if y'want me to. i don't wanna hear words 'less you want me to stop."

you manage a nod. he gives you a nod of approval, his thumb dragging out of your mouth, smearing your saliva on your cheek. "fuckin' good pup."

his gloved hands pull at his plate carrier, tugging it off and dropping it on the seat opposite to you, shedding his headgear with it. he rolls his shoulders, grunting as he tugs off his shirt, leaving him in a tight, compression undershirt. you watch him like you're starved, taking in every contour of his muscles. he sheds his gloves too, tosses them to the jumpseat.

"like what y'see?" he teases, moving close, grabbing you by your hair, fingers digging into the strands. his free hand tugs down the zipper of his pants, reaching into his boxers and freeing his cock. it's heavy in his hand, flushed tip already drooling precum.

you blink up at him, eyes pleading silently, "sir, please, can i--"

his hand comes down on your cheek. "what'd i say, sergeant? shut up."

he's pulling your hair back, guiding you to open your mouth, and you do, his hips easing forward, the tip of his cock spreading your mouth open around his shaft. "suck, sergeant," he hisses, biting his tongue as you do.

you do. and fuck him, he's not touched himself for a damn long time. your lips seal around him like you're trying to milk him dry, your tongue flicking over his slit, sucking up precum and moaning while you do it--he almost cums right then and there.

"fuck'n hell, lass, you're..." he tightens his grip on your head, pulling you away, his chest heaving, "fuck."

"strip f'me, doll. wanna see y'spread out f'me, yeah?" he watches you, and it's not meant to be sexy, it's messy, how you tug your clothes off desperately, wanting to feel him against you. that desperation makes warmth pool in his gut.

he stops you when you're in your bra, your panties, nude coloured undergarments. but it makes some part of him scream. he kneels before you, eyes trained on your cunt.

"gonna be good f'me?" he's shoving your panties to the side, his thumb pressing to your swollen clit, satisfaction reflected in his eyes as your hips jump forwards needily. the way he speaks to you--speaks to your pussy--as if you aren't even part of the conversation has you leaking.

he smears your juices across your folds, twisting his hand to push a meaty finger in you, massaging your velvety walls, and he moans, his free hand digging into the skin of your hip, "fuck, doll, you're so f'ckin tight f'me."

all you give him is a series of choked moans, a breathy "please, please, please," and a tight squeeze of you around his fingers.

"so wet, i could slide right in, huh?"

it was like being pulled apart and stitched back together, as he curls his fingers deep against your gummy walls, drawing you right there. so close, if only a hair's breadth from falling apart--

he pulls away.

"fuck, simon!" you whine, your eyes welling with tears, "please, please..."

"no," he mutters, slapping your soaking pussy, a sadistic grin falling over his face as he watches how your hips jolt upwards, seeking more. his hand moves to pull off his balaclava, and before you can gawk at his face, he leans up, kissing you--the action is gentler than before, his tongue sweeping your mouth and claiming.

when he pulls away, he's panting, his hand moving to grip his hard shaft, fisting it, pushing against your thigh. "fuckin' hell." he lets go of his cock, pulling you up and holding you up over his cock, lowering you down. one hand holds you, wraps around your waist like you're weightless, the other guiding his cock past your tight entrance.

"tight as hell, sergeant. who knew y'r bratty mouth could be shut up so easily by a good fuckin'?"

he lowers you down slowly. just enough to keep you clenching desperately as you try to ease more of him in, to accomodate more--the burn is deliciously pleasurable. when you ease all of him in, he moans into your ear, his teeth moving to suckle at your neck.

he pounds into you, ferally. lifts you up, drops you down over his cock, your combined fluids dripping down his shaft and falling to the floor.

"fuck, gonna make me cum, this fuckin' cunt... s'pretty f'me, drippin' so much..."

you moan, squeezing harshly down on him, clenching, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave marks. he buries his head in your neck, bites down on your skin like he'll leave a mark, muffling his noises.

"you keep clenchin' on me like that n' i'm gonna--" you're mewling, drooling against him, fingers tugging at his messy hair. he's wanted you like this for the longest time, spread out for him and at his mercy... suddenly the hours of torture of you teasing him is all worth it.

but you're so on edge, from his denial of your orgasm, that when he bullies his cock right against that spot in your walls, you're clenching down on him, digging your fingers into his trapezius and throwing your head back. you're a wreck, but simon's not done.

keeps you bouncing on him, and he's just so close, spurred on by your spasming walls and desperate whimpers. "mmh, fuck, who'dve known that such a fuckin' bratty little slut 's just a needy fuckin' bird," his voice is hoarse, stuttered by grunts as he uses you like a toy.

"fuck'm coming, take--take it all," he manages, pulling you flush against him, your hips right against his pelvis as he pumps his load deep inside you, filling you up. like he owned you.

for once, you were quiet. but now that you know you can get him to behave like this? you won't be quiet for long.