Call of Duty Oneshots (Mostly Ghost)

muse part 2

The smallest amount of adrenaline spikes your heart rate as his brow raises, obviously compelled to learn more as you try to summon the courage to ask with your dried mouth. "You wanna try somethin'? With me?" A beat passes as he tinkers with the words on his tongue before continuing, "Could it possibly be inspired by what I caught you reading?"

A twist of smile contorts your lips as he's caught on quickly. Another reason to add to the ever-growing list of why you love him and how you're so comfortable in requesting in, really, anything.

"Maybe," the words come out more smugly than you expect, and the confidence doesn't stop there even though the nervousness has birthed a plethora of butterflies in your chest. "If I were to ask you to not hold back and just do whatever you wanted to me, would you?"

Even after the years you've been together, he never fails to capture your breath with simple maneuvers, like when he leans in so close that you can feel a whisper of his breath breeze against your eager lips. It's like you're stuck in this forever-flustered, teenaged mindset where you jump on your husband if he gives just one look. You know the look.

"Whatever I wanted?" He straightens up enough to completely tower over your cross-legged self as he keeps his hand flat on your cheek. "A dangerous offer that is, love."

Do you even know how dangerous of an offering you've given him, allowing him to not hold back? That opening is now for the taking, and he's going to make sure you know exactly what you're asking for.

"Whatever," you murmur, not changing your mind.

That look flashes across his face, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine, goosebumps to erupt across your shoulder blades.

As his hand slides from cupping your cheek to adjust its grip around your jaw, you add so he doesn't change his mind, "You can say whatever, do whatever. I want to see what you're capable of, Simon."

Your murmured tone only tightens the clutch he has on your lower face, and he can't stop himself from slipping his hand between your thighs and forcing them to uncross, opening them up for his greedy touch. Beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, he dives, earning himself a throaty groan from you, equally as desperate as those fingers.

"Look at you," he murmurs, hand squeezing a bit harder, the other cupping your pussy above your panties, middle finger soaking up exactly how ready you were for him. "Already so wet for me, hm?" His rough tone catches your breath, a manner that you're both not used to but definitely not against trying. "Is this what you want from me?"

You don't hesitate to breathlessly respond, "Yes. More."

Every move he makes, even the scrunch of his brow, does not go unnoticed as your trained eye carefully inspects how he reacts to your newly- awakened desires. That "fuckin' hell" he whispers perks up your ears, and you can feel the corners of your mouth curl upward slightly.

All because of some smutty fanfiction.

You know that's what he's thinking, and it's amusing to the both of you that something found on social media could inspire such heat to transpire between the two of you.

"Tell me something you wish you've always wished to tell me," you purr before his deft fingers flirt with the edge of your underwear.

While pleasure had never been an issue in achieving, pulling him out of that shell to have his way with you, unadulterated and feral, had always been something of a wish to grant for the both of you.

Those words, though, that you've permitted him to say jump right off of his tongue as if they've been clinging for dear life for ages.

"You're mine, you know that? All mine. If I see you speaking to another man again, I'm going to make sure you scream my name so loud, you can't speak at all."

It swirls in your stomach, tying it in knots, the eagerness for more. In a perpetual state of want with him, just his close proximity being enough to raise your body temperature, it's no wonder how soaked you are when he slides between your folds.

His knee bends and rests beside your thigh, and you lean backward so your back is against the chair.

"Fuck, babe. Is this all for me? So pathetic, really, how willing you always are to open your legs for me, yeah?"

You can't suppress the giggle anymore that's bubbling up your throat.

"You think this is funny?" He asks, but the lightness of his expression tells you that you shouldn't be nervous at all.

Shaking your head, the one word you're able to utter is broken up by delight, "N-no."

"No, what?"

"No... sir?"

A smirk. "Good girl."

'Fuck.'