Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??
mail-order bride (18+)
"simon...simon riley?" you ask.
the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.
"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."
"john?"
you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.
"captain john price?"
the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.
"yes, ma'am. wait here."
he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.
"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."
"...negative, sir..."
"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."
the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.
"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."
you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.
when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.
"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.
"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"
"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.
she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.
why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?
"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.
mmm. that's why.
you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.
"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.
"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."
you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.
"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.
"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."
he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.
your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.
when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.
"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"
simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.
"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."
you relax a little, giggling.
"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."
"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."
you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.
"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."
simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"
"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."
"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."
you tilt your head back for him.
"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."
"mmm. i bet, luv."
"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."
simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."
you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.
"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.
"when? 'ow about right now?"
"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"
you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.
"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."
"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"
"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.
"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.
"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."
"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."
"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"
you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.
"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.
"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."
"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.
"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."
you nod.
"i can take it--i can take it--!"
your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.
"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.
"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"
simon grins, all teeth.
"woteva ya want."
4K notes
·
View notes
You burst into the office and slam the door behind you. Ghost jumps from his seat and looks up from the paperwork he’s been filling out. His eyes widen as you sprint towards him.
“What the f-”
“Just play along,” you interject, dragging a chair and plopping down. You grab two sheets of paper from the pile next to him and snatch the first pen within reach.
He keeps staring at you dumbfounded before managing to utter something.
“Can you at least-”
“Nope,” you cut him off while focusing on the papers and nibbling on the pen. “No, can’t do. You need to trust me on this one.”
“Define what ‘this one’ is.” He demands.
“Shhhh,” you hush him, waving your hand dismissively and glancing over your shoulder at the door. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s com-”
The door swings open, and footsteps approach. They settle beside you, and a hand slams on the desk. Ghost looks at the hand, then upward.
“Captain,” he says. “What brings you in-”
“For the love of everything you hold dear, Simon, you better not be involved in any of this,” Price warns. He slams his hand on the desk again and looks at you. “Why were you running away from me?” He asks.
You stare at him with furrowed eyebrows before removing the pen from your mouth.
“I wasn’t running away from you, sir,” you reply, pointing the pen at Ghost. “I was late for my meeting with the lieutenant.”
Price turns towards Ghost, seeking for an appropriate answer. The lieutenant sits up straight on his chair, clasps his hands together and motions with his head towards you.
“Very punctual, this one.” He says.
“Cut the crap, Simon,” Price orders and turns to you. “What were you doing inside Bravo Unit’s barracks last night?”
“Bravo Unit has barracks?” You ask Ghost. He shoots you a side-eye and raises one eyebrow.
“Stop playing dump and answer the question,” Price warns and points at Ghost. “And don’t look at him—he’s not covering for you this time.”
“How about you start from the beginning, boss,” Ghost interjects. “What happened?”
“Someone broke into Bravo Unit’s barracks last night and stole every inch of toilet paper they had,” Price says, looking at you, then turning to Ghost. “And not just toilet paper, mind you! Kitchen rolls and tissues are gone as well.”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Ghost murmurs, shaking his head. “Such an inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience, Simon?” Price whispers, leaning on the desk. “The entirety of Bravo Unit had to wipe their ass with parchment paper this morning.”
Ghost brings his hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. He lowers his head and takes deep, laboured breaths. Price is already fuming, so you decide to intervene.
“I was never inside Bravo Unit’s barracks, sir,” You state. “I just happened to walk through it once.”
“Oh, I see, I see—you walked through it once,” Price repeats, nodding. He removes something from his pocket and slams it on the desk.
“The instigator left this behind,” he states, looking back and forth between the two of you.
You and Ghost look at the garment on the desk—it’s a skull balaclava that once belonged to the lieutenant. He gave it to you last Winter since your ears and nose tend to get cold during patrol.
“Now,” Price states, “would you care to brief me on who this belongs to?”
“Hm,” you murmur, setting the pen and papers on the desk. You pick up the mask and start examining it. You look at Ghost, who stares at the mask with his eyeballs threatening to pop out of his face. He shoots you a deathly stare, and you redirect your attention to Price.
“That looks like it must be the lieutenant’s,” you reply, lifting the balaclava next to Ghost’s masked face. “With the skull and all—it’s a perfect match, actually.”
You both turn to Ghost, whose expression has transformed from utter disbelief to an inexplicable calmness.
“Indeed, that looks exactly like the one I lost,” Ghost confirms, taking the mask from you.
“Is it now?” Price asks in a high-pitched voice, tilting his head to the side. “Do me a favour and smell it for me, Riley.”
Ghost does exactly as he’s told. He brings the mask close to his nose, sniffs it, and nods. “Yup,” he confirms. “Smells exactly like me, too.”
Price sighs, takes a bottle from the pocket of his cargo pants and slams it on the desk. “So you want me to believe you use ‘Magnolia Blossom with Moroccan oil’ as a shampoo?” he asks.
“I’ve got dry hair.” Ghost shrugs.
“You should try coconut oil instead,” you suggest to Ghost, “it’s cheaper.”
Price kicks the chair next to you, and you both turn to look at him. He presses his lips together, and a red flush creeps on his neck, threatening to reach his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him.
“Why did you go through peoples’ stuff without their permission, sir?”
“Oh, I wasn’t going through anyone’s stuff,” Price explains. “You just were dumb enough to ditch the balaclava right behind the barracks. The detection dog picked up on the smell and led us to your stuff—it was a perfect match, just like you said.”
“You had sniffer dogs involved in this?” Ghost asks.
“I had to.” Price replies. “Pair the parchment paper with a day full of training, and Bravo Unit developed the worst rash they had since wearing diapers.”
A chuckle escapes Ghost, and he tries to silence it with his hand. He takes quick gasps of air, and you try to retain your laughter, too.
“Please tell me you’re not laughing!” Price shouts.
“No, boss,” Ghost says and wipes his tears, “It’s just so-”
“-sad,” you say and wipe your eyes as well. “It’s so sad.”
Price looks at you, then at the lieutenant. Now defeated, he sighs and throws his head back, shutting his eyes.
“I’m done with both of you.” He says, lifting his arms and dropping them to his sides. “I expect all toilet papers to be returned today. And as for you, you are responsible for cleaning Bravo’s toilets for the entire month.”
“For the whole month?!” You shout and wince at the idea.
“Be glad I didn’t make you wipe their asses as well.” He shouts as he walks to the door and slams it behind him.
Ghost recovers from the laugh and directs his attention to you. He tries to be serious but his teary eyes betray him.
“That was a hazardous operation you did back there,” he says.
“I didn’t do anything.” You reply, still vouching for your innocence. “But whoever did it taught Bravo Unit not to mess with our thermostats again.”
Ghost shakes his head. “I just happened to walk through the barracks once,” he says, repeating your earlier statement. “What were you thinking? Who walks through barracks?”
“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Ghosts would be my guess.”
7K notes
·
View notes