Micro Sketches With Price & Gaz Just Warmin' Up...

Not Originally Mine but I want to post as Solidarity! 🇵🇸🔥🇨🇩🔥🇸🇩🔥

when you run out of oil based makeup remover while on base

having a praise kink but being unable to accept compliments means ghost's whispering shit in your ear like 'you're so fuckin' stupid, how can you not understand how easy to fuckin' love you are? your empty little head just can't grasp how goddamned sweet and good you are f'me all the bloody time? is that it?' while folding you in half over the nearest flat surface

thinking about simon who’s watching you get another drink from the bar, counting the minutes until you return to the booth your team is currently occupying. he swirls the ice in his glass, glancing over every other second just to make sure you’re still within eyesight while he half listens to johnny talk about the most recent Manchester match. it’s already been 3 minutes. what is taking so bloody long?

“I’m pretty sure you’re burning a hole in the back of her head with that stare mate,” kyle says, lightly nudging simon’s shoulder. simon turns to face him, eyebrows knitting together. “m’just making sure she’s alright.”

the corner of kyle’s mouth twitches. “she’s a big girl, isn’t she? seems to be handling herself just fine.”

prick. simon takes a sip of his drink, glaring at him over the glass. he’s fully aware you can handle yourself, he’s seen you drop full grown men to their knees in the field without breaking a sweat. so why does it feel more dangerous to leave you alone in a stupid bar? another quick glance back to the bar reveals you laughing with the bartender, complimenting her hair and enjoying some small talk.

“and simon wants to handle her.” johnny’s words came out slow and a bit slurred, proof that he’d probably had one too many. if he’d been a little less intoxicated simon would’ve shoved him out of the booth. “looks like someone else does too,” kyle mumbled, lifting his glass and looking back in the direction of the bar. simon swears he feels his neck crack at the speed he turns to look.

who the fuck is that?

there's a tall blonde man standing close – too close – to you at the bar. toothpaste commercial smile, wavy hair…and hands that are way too antsy for simon’s taste. the way they move back and forth in the space between the two of you, resting on the bar next to your arm. there’s no need for him to get so close. simon ignores the bubbling pit of annoyance growing in his stomach – and johnny’s childish ‘oooh’ as he turns back to the table. “good for him.”

kyle lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he looks down at the empty glass in his hands. “you're one stubborn git, I’ll tell ya.” placing the glass back down on the table, he looks back up at his masked friend. “you know, if I felt the way you do about her, she would’ve been mine a long time ago.”

simon’s eyes narrow into a glare. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“means exactly what I said.” he shrugs. “you want her so fucking bad, go get her. I wouldn’t let anything stop me if I was you.”

simon scoffs. if only it was that simple. there was no room for error with you. letting you in was a gamble in itself, and now…losing you was simply not an option. he’d managed to convince himself that it wouldn’t be possible to get attached, that being friendly was for the team’s sake. it definitely wasn’t because he was tired of only seeing you in flashes during dreams. and it absolutely was not because he found himself leaving every interaction with you feeling lighter. happier, almost.

“things are best as they are.” his answer was low, but kyle didn’t miss the tinge of sadness to his words.

“does she feel that way? did you ever bother to ask her? because I think if you did, she mi-“

“oh, shit.” johnny’s tone has considerably sobered as he looks past his friends at the bar where you stand. “she does not look happy.”

understatement of the century, simon thought as he turned back to you. hands on your hips, a scowl gracing your features. he swears he’s never seen someone look so angry and so beautiful at the same time. you’re glaring up at the prick with the pepsodent smile, spitting what looks to be venom at him while he looks down his nose at you condescendingly. if simon wasn’t overcome with irritation for whatever he’d done to piss you off, he would’ve enjoyed the sight. his little spitfire.

his. he needs to stop using that word when it comes to you. too dangerous to get used to.

she can handle it repeats in his head like a prayer. every muscle aches to run over and toss the man on the floor, not even stopping to find out what he had done to piss you off first, but he squeezes his glass to placate himself. she’s a big girl, like kyle said. a task force solider. if she needs help, she –

simon’s on his feet within seconds of your panicked gaze meeting his. there's something in your eyes, a look he’s ever seen before and is already planning on never seeing again. he barrels his way across the room as people part like the red sea, leading a path right to where you stand. the man has stepped closer to you, a slimy look on his face as he leers down at you. he may be tall, but simon towers over him as he steps up behind him, fists clenched. “oi.”

the man, who simon has decided is called dickhead, turns lazily to face him. his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the mountain of a man hovering behind him but he quickly masks it, trying his best to look bored.

“the fuck are you doing bothering my girl?”

dickhead has the balls to roll his eyes. simon imagines all the ways he could cut them out.

“i told you I have a boyfriend,” you snap. simon is pleasantly surprised by this, although what else does he expect? you obviously wanted this man to leave you alone, and that should have given him reason enough to do so. should have. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“not so tough now that he’s not sitting all the way over there now, huh?”

simon nearly falls over. you told this guy that he was your boyfriend? he blinks once at you before he realizes that it’s not the time to digest this information. dickhead is still here and vertical, and that’s a problem. perhaps it’s the rounds of whiskey johnny kept talking him into, but something primal switches on when simon falls into the persona you’ve just created for him. the idea of you being his, needing him flooded his thoughts. dickhead must’ve seen the murderous expression slip onto his face just like one of his masks because the color drains from his face. simon’s voice lowers to a dangerous level.

“speak to her again and see how long you live. now walk away.”

a smart choice, simon hums to himself as dickhead scurries away looking slightly green. he has no idea how smart. simon snaps out of his musings as a hand softly rests on his forearm. wide, grateful eyes stare back up at him as he allows himself to take in current situation. “thank you so much simon, he was such a fucking creep. started asking me shit about my underwear and wouldn’t let me past him.”

“he’s lucky I didn’t know that before I let him go.” he’ll be less lucky later on. simon has a new errand to run, but that can wait until after you’re finished holding his arm and staring up at him like he hung the moon.

“so. when were you gonna tell me we were an item?” the joke tumbles out before he has time to think about it. by the look on your face, you're not about to take off running, so he continues. “y’should probably keep me in the loop about things like that, hm?” he braces himself for the what he thinks is the inevitable – I was only joking, simon…yeah, as if…I know, could you ever imagine that?

instead, the giggle that he receives in response makes his heart swell. laughter shouldn’t sound so musical and delicate. and it definitely shouldn’t come from a girl as beautiful as you when you're laughing. somehow, the fact that its him you're laughing at makes it sound even better. in that moment, simon’s hit with the bone chilling realization that he is fucked. so fucked it’s not even funny. the hours spent building his walls up just for you to tear them down again with a simple good morning, simon had been for nothing, because there was no running from this. and this is why he allows himself to wrap an arm around your waist as you formulate your reply.

if his show of affection takes you by surprise it doesn’t show. instead, you take a step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his side as he pulls you to him. “seems like you were in the loop just fine, riley. after all, I'm ‘your girl’, right?” he wishes he could kiss you, press you back against the bar because yes, you are his girl, and to hear it in that teasing tone of voice is driving him to madness. he’s almost sure you know what you're doing, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes. it’s not fair to look at him like that, not if you don’t mean it. and simon isn’t 100% sure, but –

“I’m gonna put that on my resume. ‘simon riley’s girl’,” you chirp as you drag him back to your booth. simon smiles. he can settle for 99.9%.

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head all day enjoy <33

Ghost and reader car sex... 😮‍💨🥴

i used to have a mini cooper and for some reason when i seen this my mind went to fucking him in that tin can of a car lmaoooo someone shut me upppp

but anyway it happens nearly every time you pick him up from the airport, it’s like a routine. his cock twitches just at the sight of your text message popping up, telling him you’re outside waiting. it’s always about ten minutes in to the drive, his hand grips onto your thigh, mouth-dryingly close to your groin, and without a word he’s nodding towards a small dirt track — one of the many locations he mentally notes as another place to take you to and ruin you. it’s never even seconds after the engine is switched off and he’s unbuckling your seatbelt, sucked onto your neck like a silly man starved, hurling your legs over his and showing you just how much he missed you.

and let’s not even talk about that after date night car sex. where it’s unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you through the night. he can barely keep his hands off, groping and grabbing any bit of skin he can, whilst he’s still trying to focus on getting you both home alive. if you’re wearing a skirt or a dress, something with easy access to your cunt, he’s shoving your thighs apart, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit. his other hand gripped so tightly around the wheel, you swear his knuckles might break through the skin. but it doesn’t stop him from slipping a finger or two in you, and then proceeding to suck them clean when he pulls his car off the road, exits the drivers side and runs to yours. before you’re even fully out, the rear door is open and waiting, and he guides you to where he wants — bent over. face squashed against the leather seats, your bare ass exposed to elements, and then simon just falls to his knees and devours you.

Captain Price during The Embassy mission.

subsimon is like…all i’ve ever written. like there’s just something so sonic about being a sub. he’s a crier. he cries during it and humps your thigh when u feel too sore or you’re denying him. he growls but also whimpers and buries his head into your neck.

Ghost cries those thin silent tears, glares the whole time he does it, like you're in the wrong for forcing them out of him. If you keep pushing though, he'll break. You'll get those big heaving sobs out of him, the kind that mean sex is over and you need to hold him for a while. The sort that mean you've pushed past whatever was bothering him into catharsis. The sort that mean he'll fall asleep on top of you, and you'll have to struggle to tug the blankets up over you both while pinned. Don't bother trying to move him, he'll pull you back like an octopus.

He'll hump your leg, sure, but you can also make him lay back and hold his heavy cock up, make him squeeze the base tight so he doesn't come as you rub yourself against him. Your hips moving fluidly as you drool against him, giving your own sweet sounds a chance to shine, each buck of your hips dragging your sensitive parts against his cock. And he just has to stay there, hold himself steady like the good little sniper he is as you chase your own pleasure. He doesn't need to come does he? No... no this is for you, his cock is only for your pleasure, he knows that. That's why he's such a good boy letting you do what you like with it. That why he lets you come on his cock and thanks you for it, why he asks if he can come and begs so nicely when you take him in your hand.

He needs some level of control, needs to feel like he's participating, but he also needs you to tell him what to do, how to do it. Needs you to look him in the eye and say sweet things, tell him you love him and that's why you're using him. You don't have to love him like a person, you can love him like a pet, or a toy, he can be a toy. He just wants to hear it. "I love you Simon, my good boy," makes him come no matter how many times you say it. You might be conditioning him at this point. That's fun.

Wipping more Simon Riley…✍️🔥🧠

You: Someone unable to appreciate "real" food because you're desensitised to junk (your fav meal is McD chicken nuggets and you're convinced that no one can take that from you.)

Chef! Simon: A fine dining, Michelin-starred chef who's determined to train your taste buds to appreciate real food.

The only vision of this I have:

You go to Simon's restaurant with idk maybe your girl friend because her partner was called away to work on emergency, and she didn't want to waste the booking to the fancy place, whatever it doesn't matter. You get the simplest thing on the menu, nibble at it and then send it back half-eaten. Simon is so aghast at this that he comes out to the floor himself, wants to meet the customer who dared send his food back. Asks if there was a quality problem. Asks what about the dish wasn't to your taste. Asks if he can make you anything else.

When you say no to all of the above, he's polite (but seething inside) and leaves. Comps your meal. Invites you back privately.

His form of romancing you is inviting you back to his restaurant after hours and taking you on a culinary journey, introducing you to flavours and textures you've never tried before, finding the tastes that you like, feeding you iterations of those until you feel comfortable to try fancier stuff.

You both fall in love in the process.

He stands in between your legs as you sit on his kitchen counter after hours one day. Two dishes in front of you - one containing McD chicken nuggets, one containing nuggets that he's made. Per his request, you try both.

He kisses you for the first time when you tell him you can't believe you ever liked McDonald's.