Call of Duty Oneshots (Mostly Ghost)

muse part 1

You've never been fully satisfied. Sexually. Emotionally. Physically. In all senses of the word 'satisfied', it's just not been in your vernacular armory to describe your life.

Until your husband came along a few years back. A relationship born out of shared drinks at a bar and a one-night stand, he just... kind of didn't leave your life, and never did you once complain about it.

And everything that followed suit happened so naturally. Moving in and even being engaged, just... flowed effortlessly. Needs met and a man who actually knew what he wanted in bed and emotionally? Call it the easiest 'yes' you ever said when he asked for your hand in marriage.

It's not like either of you base your love for one another off of sex, it's just a bonus, the cherry on top. Granted, the deployments suck absolute ass, but he makes up for it when gets home.

Every time.

And Jesus Christ, are you a satisfied woman when he does.

Lasting multiple rounds when you were used to maybe a few minutes – 20 if you were lucky – you've never slept better than you do with him when he's home.

Physically, the man is protective and sometimes a little overbearing, but it's an easy price to pay when he can literally hoist you over his shoulder and carry you anywhere and everywhere his heart desires.

You also can't deny that it's endearing and/or flattering when he stiffens up in quiet possessiveness whenever someone of the opposite sex strikes a conversation with you. Never interrupts, but the fire in his eyes tells you he'd like to.

And God forbid you two finally have children as you can only imagine how much more his already wary eyes will become.

Emotionally. At first, he was a tough egg to crack. Boarded up and airtight were his true emotions with his past as its cellmate, but once he found you as his safe person, trust began pulling away the borders brick by cemented brick. And once he allowed you in, there was no going back to a lonely life full of dense men when you have him being there for you wholeheartedly.

Still.

Always will be.

And of course, he has those days where he hides it from you, the wounds embedded in his soul that will never perfectly heal. Ripped open by old memories, you give him the space he doesn't need to ask for, and he comes back less angry and more receptive to physical touch.

But something is missing.... isn't there?

Not to the point where if that missing piece was never found, it would ruin everything, but-

It'd serve like a garnish. A decorative piece to embellish something so delicious that if you wanted to add more to spice it up, it wouldn't overpower anything.

You just want to have fun.

While your husband holds back in bed, flavoring pleasure with a bit more vanilla than the zest you know he's capable of, you want to find a way to pluck it out of him.

No way a man of his stature doesn't want to treat you like a proper rag doll sometimes.

So, you start researching with your favorite pastime:

The smuttiest fanfiction you can find imaginable.

It doesn't take much time scrolling endlessly on your phone before intrigue seizes you and lands you right on your ass, the first fucking sentence bewitching your attention: "Deep isn't as a severe enough word to describe the space inside of me filled by him."

'Immediate like, for one. And secondly, who said a fanfic could start like that?!'

Fingertips absentmindedly find agape lips to cover, and your eyes can't stop from finishing the rest. Maybe after this one, you'll just spend the rest of the day splurging on dirty literature. For 'research purposes', of course.

"And you said you couldn't take all of me. But just look at you, Schatz. So full of my cock."

Oh my god.

"He enjoys toying with his little plaything."

Oh my god?!

With your headphones on, the audio from your current obsession distracting you from hearing the loud roar of your husband's bike pulling up, you don't hear him come home. Him opening the front door, tossing the bag on the counter, and stomping his heavy-booted feet, all of it goes unnoticed by your preoccupied state.

Nothing seems as important as expanding your knowledge of how to satisfy your needs as well as for the man who has now bent low enough beside you to peer over your shoulder.

"So tell me, what is it that you need to be reminded of?"

"Who I belong to." I said on a shaky exhale.

God damn.

"And who is that?"

You read with bated breath, not realizing that your husband is hovering above your head, reading every word that you consume so hungrily.

"You."

Your thighs squeeze together in anticipation, a familiar warmth beginning to reside in between them, and you'd never expected to be turned on by a similar possessiveness you see darkening your husband's eyes once in a while.

It's the word you know he thinks when the jealousy he shouldn't be even feeling in the first place becomes too sour: Mine. That is what you didn't expect to rile up your arousal, but here you are, hot and bothered by a dominating fictional man forcing the main character to repeat that she's his as he pounds the ever-loving shit out of her.

Talk about envy.

It's not until you reach the last slide that the presence of another human being loitering right by your shoulders practically gives your already-pounding heart a jump when a pair of mahogany eyes greet your turning head.

"Jesus, Simon!" There is a pause as you catch your breath. "How long have you been standing there?" You dare to ask, eyeing him from the side as you slide your headphones off one ear.

His lips curl in a half-smirk when he leans in more towards you, those masterful fingers gripping the arm of your chair, and your mouth waters from how the muscles shift beneath tattooed skin and the veins that become thin vines to trickle down the back of his hands. "Long enough."

Maybe it's the look he gives you, that smug look of knowing what you've been up to, that makes you nervous, or perhaps it's how something's clicked within that brewing mind of yours...

But you don't know how to verbalize your request.

Your voice comes out a bit more subdued when you ask another question, "And how much did you read?"

"I came in around the time when his cock was twitching inside o' her." He laughs when your cheeks become painted in a dusty color of pink. One of his hands raises to cup the flushed flesh, the tilt of his head telling you that there may be something he's on the fence about asking you, too.

But you beat him to it before he got the chance.

"Would you want to try somethin' with me?"