Sayest
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“Ghost?”
“Soap.” Ghost’s voice was a low buzz, gravelly with static. In the absolute silence of the snow-covered forest, it sounded both deafeningly loud and intimately quiet.
“What’s your favourite season?” Soap asked.
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Four seasons, five countries, six months.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 51,229
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Comments:
- 1,517
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- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by Sayest
24 Jun 2025
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Sylus never says no to you. He usually buys you whatever you want, whenever you want. But today he says it just to get a rise out of you. Fine...two can play that game. However, you will soon find out that even he has his limits when jealous...
"I must ask," he says conversationally, his breath warm against your ear, "Was it thrilling to take pictures for other men while in another mans bed? In clothes he bought you?"
His fingers tangle gently in your hair, not pulling, just establishing control. You don't answer him. You know better not to answer such a question. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"For every...lets say $100, that's one hit with the belt."
Bookmarked by Sayest
02 Jun 2025
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Improvised Decisions (Repercussions Apply) by Prumery
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
09 Jul 2023
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John ‘Soap’ MacTavish is a bad Alpha.
He likes other Alphas. He smells like fruit . He nests.
Of course THE Ghost would not want someone like him. He’d want a sweet omega, he’d deserve a lot more than an alpha that likes other alphas
Especially when he's chosen to join a mating run.(He's wrong)
Bookmarked by Sayest
16 May 2025
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Zayne had a nickname in college that she's just finding out about: Pussy Slayer
Bookmarked by Sayest
11 May 2025
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Soap sighs, and tugs on Ghost's hair to get his attention. Ghost meets his gaze, his own vision hazy, getting dark around the edges, narrowing to a single point focused on his Omega and doing whatever Soap needs of him. Soap's expression softens in that effortlessly charming way, his eyes dark and fond when he cups Ghost's jaw.
"C'mere, baby," he purrs; a siren call Ghost has no hope of resisting. "Not even inside ye yet. So sweet fer me."
It's classic talk, often uttered to a knotdrunk Omega high on pleasure, stuck beneath an Alpha, taking it like a glorified fleshlight, but it hits Ghost right at the base of his skull all the same. At work, in the field, he's iron-clad control and a beacon of authority, but in their nest, under Soap's hands, he's docile as a kitten. All that matters is Soap, all that matters is pleasing Soap.
Bookmarked by Sayest
02 May 2025