#soap's a werewolf though

[ghostlysoaps]

Creature/monster AU

Soft warning for mature language and themes

Soap is staring at him. This, in and of itself, isn't unusual. It's like their very own game of cat-and-mouse. Watching and waiting to get caught in the act, diverting their attention only after the other catches their gaze to keep. The switch occurs, and then it's up to each of them to decide how much blatant attention is enough.

Ghost grits his teeth under the relative safety of his mask but doesn't take his eyes off the road. He can't afford to with the headlights off even if he sees better in the dark than most – not with the loops and curves and potential threat hunting them.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Soap eventually asks, an hour and some into their mad dash to safety.

Ghost wishes he could parrot the question back at him while replacing the last word with "what.” It wouldn't work, he knows that. Playing the fool isn't Ghost’s strong suit and Soap wouldn't care to indulge him anyway. Not with the way his leg is bouncing, ears flicking, gaze as piercing as a knife between the ribs. A bloodhound who's caught a whiff of wounded prey. 

"No," is what he says instead, short, concise and brokering no room for argument.

"I think we should."

But then, Soap would argue with a brick wall on the off-chance he could win.

"Drop it, Sergeant."

Soap's face twists, canines flashing as he gives himself to irritation, eyes flashing gold.

"It was wearing my face while trying to coax ye into dicking it down, Ah'd say there's plenty to discuss."

"It was trying to get me close enough to wring my neck."

"Och, aye. Strange way t'go about it." The glower he levels Ghost with burns against the side of his face. "Sure there's nothing you wanna tell me? Might've helped dislodge that stick up yer arse if you'd let it–"

Ghost swerves abruptly, takes them off the main road to rest beneath a canopy of trees, on a path too overgrown to count as one, cutting Soap's questioning in half as the man yelps and slams a hand against the window to steady himself. The car slows to a stop and then one of Ghost's claw-tipped hands are on Johnny’s face, digging deep divots into the fat and muscle around his chin and jaw. He uses it to shake Soap's head from side-to-side. Not scruffing, but a show of displeasure nonetheless. One familiar to wolves. 

When Soap opens his mouth to protest, Ghost gives in to the urge to slot his thumb inside the warm cavern and draws a shallow line across it that quickly wells with blood.

"One more word," he snarls, "and I'll cut your tongue right out of your fucking mouth."

Soap stares at him, all wide-eyed and stricken, for a moment, just the one, before his lips stretch into a smirk around the digit in his mouth. He seals his lips over it, hollows his cheeks on a mean suckle, and then nips it with too-sharp teeth the moment Ghost pulls it out as if burnt, causing that lopsided smirk to broaden. 

"Shouldn't threaten me with a good time, sir."

"You're off your head." 

"I can smell arousal, y'know," Soap says, redirecting the conversation with all the gracefulness Ghost shows in his driving. "But not on you, can't ever smell anything on you. Drives me up the fuckin' wall." Soap shakes his head with a laugh, glances at Ghost from under his lashes. He's still smiling. "Sirens... now they don't need pheromones to get in yer head and root out yer darkest desires, an' they don't resort to shape-shifting into a specific guise unless there's a chance it'll work on their target."

"It didn't."

"I could tell by the bullet ye put through its heid. Dinnae even hesitate for a second."

Ghost's fingers flex at the reminder and Soap's eyes flit to them momentarily.

"You've a cold heart, Lt."

"Told you that already," Ghost rasps.

"Why me?"

And it sounds like begging, those two words, spoken in a beckoning call of their own, pleading for a truth Ghost is refusing to admit to anyone, least of all himself.

"You're attractive, Soap, that's all there is to it."

Soap deflates, sinking back into his seat with his face turning towards the window. Shoulders slumped, ears pinned back, as if he were a puppy expecting praise and finding a boot hurtling towards his side instead. It's jarring. Not wholly unexpected, but hell if it doesn't drive a blade straight through Ghost's aforementioned heart – something serrated and hooked sawing through his sternum to tear at raw nerves.

He should leave them there, within the rapidly growing chasm of distance he'd longed to create since Soap first bumped a fist against his shoulder.

"I knew it wasn't you."

It's the thinnest sliver of an olive branch, incapable of flowering with how slight and insignificant it is.

Soap takes it nonetheless.

"How's that?"

"Because your attempts at flirting are as bad as your jokes."

Johnny, incandescent with rage, comes back alive as if electrocuted and with slew of profanity to boot. He rants at Ghost for a solid half-hour, all ire and with no regard for propriety or rank, dressing him down as thoroughly as any drill sergeant back at basic. Anger is a good look on him. Joy is too. Emotions of any kind as long as they're far from the empty vessel Ghost had glimpsed before.

He lets out a breath he can't remember holding as Johnny’s voice steadily washes away the memory of blood in the sand and dimmed, unseeing eyes, blue as the summer's sky, staring unblinking ahead.

[reds-skull]

I had 2 partners for the @codbigbang, and for the second one I offered @themortalscout to create 2 comic pages of 2 scenes from the fic she wrote. This first one depicts an earlier scene, but you'll have to read the fic to find out what's going on!

Here's the link and summary to it:

"It was one thing to know monsters existed. It was another thing entirely to grow up as part of the MacTavish clan, one of the oldest werewolf clans that existed. Being a MacTavish came with ‘capital E’ Expectations. They saw it as their duty to protect humanity from the things it couldn’t protect itself from. Things like vampires, among other monsters. There was only one future for all MacTavish children - to be turned on their seventeenth birthday and join the clan in full, as werewolves themselves, to carry on that duty. Or, there was supposed to be only one future for them. John had never been all that good at following rules, though. And while he wanted, desperately, to help people, he wanted to do it under his own power. To earn it, through more than just the happenstance of being born to a family of more-than-human creatures. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He ran away.

Soap achieves the unthinkable - he gets recruited into the elite Task Force 141: a squad that had, until now, been composed of monsters only. Fate and destiny won't let go of him that easily, though. When a mission goes bad, he has to contend with everything he ran away from to protect his team."

I love how both the fic and the art turned out, much love to Wolf because she's an awesome writer and has been a pleasure to work with!

Second comic will be posted once its chapter is uploaded! (if you accidentally saw me upload it early, no you didn't)

[addictao3]

Can we get a dilf (he’s like in his 60s)werewolf trans male reader x 141 boys, hybrid au 😼😼😼😼 - call me 🌾 anon

DILF!Werewolf!FTM!Reader x HYBRID!141 au!!

You were old. Older than them. A seasoned veteran. An older Werewolf that seen it all(your wolfyness made you still look hot even though you are in your 60s). They lived with you. While their injuries healed. Your large home easily fit the four large hybrids.

You smile sharply at the younger werewolf. “Get y’er fluffy ass down Soap.” You say as you laugh. His tail wags as he pounces. You both fell with a “oof” and landed on the nice tiled floor. Both of you scramble around for a moment until you grab him by the scruff and pick him up.

“Oi! Price!” You yell out with a laugh, as soap pouts in your arms. “Y’er puppy ain’t being real nice ta’ me.” You see the large dragon hybrid slowly walk out of his room. His hair a mess. Price smirks at you and the now blushing Soap.

“What did I tell you, yeah?” Price says with a laugh. Soap mutters under his breath. “Speak up Soap.” Price sighs.

“Not to bother the big bad while he’s working.” Soap grumbles out. You raise an eyebrow. ‘Big bad’ you mouth to Gaz, the harpy hybrid sitting in the corner. Perched on a stand you built. Gaz laughed from where he was sitting. High above everyone.

You sigh before tossing Soap onto the large plush couch. “Sit the fuck down.” There was something in his scent. A flash of heat before it was forcefully washed away.

(Should I continue this?! Also surprise I’m alive!! Both yall and my psychiatrist are surprised muahahaha. (Laugh laugh please bro) I’m getting better at time management and heh I can NAWT wait until I can beg my bf to draw fanart for me heh heh heh. Yeah I’m lucky my man is talented)

[wrestlingwithlife]

Chew Toy (COD MONSTER AU)

When you have a mouthy werewolf on the team it pays to have thick skin (or scales).

COD!Monster!AU x Male!Kaiju!Reader

——————————————————————————————————————

Y/n let his eyes follow Soap’s pacing figure as he practically stalked around the common room, obviously restless.

His clawed hand came up, scratching at the skin around his collar.

Price had argued against it, but the higher ups had insisted on the kaiju wearing some kind of “fail safe” of sorts, should he go rouge.

So they settled on a shock collar, much to the displeasure of the task force.

Price had been badgering Laswell to get the order revoked, and the human female was doing her best, but Y/n wasn’t going to complain.

This was a massive upgrade to what he was used to.

“Is it like this for every werewolf?”

Soap’s eyes honed in on the Kaiju, zoning back in to process his question.

His eyes were a much more vibrant shade of blue, atleast they seemed to Y/n.

The werewolf flopped onto the couch with a huff, the cushion dipping and making him accidentally lean closer to the warm body beside him.

Allegedly.

“It’s different for every wolf, but they all experience atleast something similar on full moons.” Soap shrugged, tail flicking back and forth.

Seemed like at least one part of his body insisted on being active.

“Do kaiju’s get anything like that?”

Y/n clicked his tongue, leaning his head back in thought.

He’d only ever met one other Kaiju in his life cycle, and she’d seemed nothing but perfectly calm and capable at any given moment.

“Not that I know of, nothing like this though.” He mused, nodding to Soap’s twitching. “There’s no set time for it, at the very least.”

Soap mulled over his words before his thoughts were cut off.

“How do you cope?”

His eyes flickered back to the kaiju, eyes locking on to the intense e/c hues.

He was honestly shocked, and quite pleased, at how much he was putting into the conversation.

“Depends, sometimes I’m just put in quarantine, most of the time guys come in and help me blow off some steam.”

He caught the way Y/n stopped, giving him a look out of the corner of his eye.

In his defense, coming out of Soap, you just never knew.

“Not like that.” The werewolf huffed, swatting at the larger hybrids arm, before giving him a grin. “But if you wanna…~”

“Down boy.” Y/n snorted, shrugging the wolf off him.

Soap barked out a laugh, tossing his head back, tail speeding up.

“We’ll see~”

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜・

Y/n stood behind Ghost, watch over the wraiths shoulder through the one way glass into the padded training room.

Soap’s wolf prowled around, occasionally lunging at the few training dummies that had been left inside.

“Shouldn’t he have calmed down by now?” Gaz mused, leaning against one of the walls of the viewing room with his arms folded over his chest.

Price sighed, scratching his beard with a nod.

“Doesn’t normally take him this long. I’d say we go down, but he’s more mouthy than usual.”

“I can do it.”

All eyes turned onto the Kaiju, mostly out of surprise that he’d even spoken up at all.

“You sure? You’ve not gone through…” There was a loud rip as Soap tore the head off a dummy. “…this.”

Y/n shrugged, his heavy tail scraping the concrete floor behind him.

“My skins impenetrable, atleast to anything he can do, even like this.” He motioned to the wolf still throwing a fit below them.

Price mulled over it for a moment before reluctantly giving in.

“Fine, but if he gets to wild I’m pulling you out.”

Y/n made his way out of the viewing room and down towards the training room door.

Soap had honed in on him the second he’d heard the door click, posture ridged and ears forward.

His tail was wagging, and Y/n would have taken that as good sign, had he not immediately come barreling towards him.

Y/n braced, catching the wolf on his shoulder and stopping him in his tracks.

He heard the snapping of jaws, but even in the places they were able to connect, they couldn’t break the Kaiju’s skin.

Y/n managed to get his arms around the werewolf’s neck, trapping him in a headlock and dragging them both to the floor.

Soap’s tongue lolled out as they wrestled, blue eyes widening as Y/n’s arm came within reach, lunging for the exposed limb.

The s/c skin immediately changed black as it hardened protectively, the werewolves ivory teeth bouncing off uselessly.

Soap broke away, eyes wide as he stared, as if offended, at the slowly fading color of Y/n’s arm.

He huffed, curiosity seemingly taking over whatever fight he had left as he padded closer, sniffing at the skin of the arm.

The kaiju offered the arm to him for a closer look, happy to do this instead of wrestle.

Soap gave the skin a tentative lick, eyeing Y/n’s face before taking the arm back into his mouth and biting down again, softer this time.

Once again, the skin changed color, hardening where the teeth pressed.

He let out a rumble, the brown canine clearly unsure what to make of his new discovery.

The door to the room opened again, the rest of the force making their way in, but Soap hardly looked up from Y/n’s arm.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜・

“Got any threes?”

“Go fish.”

Gaz groaned, drawing a card from the pile, giving Y/n a skeptical look.

“You’re cheating.”

“Who cheats at ‘Go Fish’?”

His wings fluffed, almost hitting Price who was sitting behind him, watching over his shoulder.

Ghost was doing to the same to Y/n, leaning closer to peer over his cards.

“Nope, he’s got a clear conscience.”

Y/n gave a pleased hum, shifting a bit as Soap moved his tail once more.

The wolf was splayed out behind the group, the Kaiju’s black, scaled tail held between his two front paws as he gnawed on the end.

Y/n could hardly feel the pressure, and besides the wolf drool, there was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary when the wolf would pull back to look at his work.

“Got any fours?”

Gaz grumbled, but passed the card to Y/n who added the pair to his ever growing collection.

“Yer getting obliterated.” Price chuckled, dodging a wing slap from Gaz.

“I know that!”

The outburst drew Soap’s attention, the werewolf now keen on being apart of the circle.

Y/n felt his tail drop, looking back only to see the quickly approaching wall of fur and muscle.

Neither Y/n nor Ghost stood a chance as the werewolf came crashing down onto the them, pinning the two under his massive weight.

“Get off, ya mutt.” The wraith hissed, fighting to free atleast one of his limbs, shadows pulling and pushing on the canine to try and will him to move with no such luck.

Y/n groan as the air was forced out of his lungs, dodging playful licks to the face as best as he could.

The cards were scattered everywhere, Price and Gaz blinking in surprise at the turn.

“Does this mean I win?”

Soap whipped his head around, tongue lolling, giving Y/n a chance to catch his breath.

Soap reached out with a massive paw, hooking it around Gaz. Price, who’d been sitting to close, getting dragged in along with him in a mass of tangled wings and thrashing tails.

Price grunted, getting tucked right next to Y/n beneath the mass of fur.

“Come here often?”

Price rolled his eyes playfully at that, swatting the e/c eyed male with his tail.

“More often than not.”

“So this is normal?” Y/n nodded up at Soap, who was now giving Gaz the same treatment he’d give Y/n moments before.

“Eh, something along the lines of it. Never seen this before.” He mused, using his one free arm to gesture to the dog pile they were trapped in.

Y/n puffed before settling back, as if accepting his fate, and Price followed suite, head flopping back against the padded floor.

The dragon felt the scraping of other scales against his tail, finding that his tail had instinctively wrapped itself with the thicker tail of the Kaiju beside him.

He was about to apologize, to move his rouge appendage, when he felt the other’s tail tighten around his in return.

No words were said, they didn’t need to be, Price was already turning a pretty shade of pink.

—————————————————————————

Boom, only took me way to long to get this done haha

Sorry if the ending felt a bit abrupt, I wanted to end on something fluffy but obviously nothing romantic has been established in this story line and I didn’t want to have them acting to out of character.

So I still haven’t decided on a call sign yet, but I have narrowed it down to two choices for you guys to pick from below, so please let me know!

[fortheb0ys]

FUCK ME LIKE THE MEN BETWEEN THOSE PAGES

Bottom John Price x Top Male Reader

Just Price brain rot🤤 I've always wanted to a model for MLM porn sites ngl so I'm living through this fic🙏 As usual not proofread :)

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

Prices would be one of those faceless models for those erotic gay romance novels. All his work would be faceless. Just something he did to make money on the side.

It was a secret that was long forgotten. Memories replaced by his military service. His body more scarred than his younger self's. His own books but they were just collecting dust in a box.

When you got together, you had found one of the books Price had forgotten that was on a shelf. Your eyes grew wide as you noiced it was Price's shirtless body on the front cover. A small mole on his left hip was telltale that it was him.

Flipping the book over and reading the synopsis reveals the dirty content of it. All the colour washes from Price's face as he sees what you have in your hand.

Price was about to open his mouth to quickly deny it but saw your giddy excitement. Though Price felt a bit shameful, he told you that there was more. A lot more.

With much hesitation from him and a whole lot more convincing from you, Price lent you the books. His amazing body on every single one of them. A new scar here and there as the

He had been surprised that you never poked fun at him and that you were genuinely interested in his past works.

You'd admit that the sex scenes depicted were the main thing that got you interested. You'd imagine Price vividly as the characters he model on the front covers. It didn't take long for you to read through the lot of them.

When Price would be on deployment, he'd get a text from you.

Cum on the front cover or on the pages. Or others with your erect cock slotted like a bookmark between the pages with the dirtiest scenes, precum dripping onto the sheets.

You'd send worded texts underneath the photo like "Try these with me?" or "What if were we the ones to do this?"

Price hated himself for showing you the books right before the mission, making the wait painfully long.

Sexualy frustrated and slightly pissed he had to wait for his deployment to end, Price would have a lonely wank in his barracks. His fingers didn't feel right. His fantasies never felt like details in the books. Nothing felt like you.

Once he got back, Price had to fight back a boner as the anticipation took over him. He went through countless cigars trying to get his mind on something else. The 141 Boys knew something was up. Soap had to control the intrusive thoughts to ask if you were waiting naked when Price returned home.

Which he wasn't wrong. The moment Price came through that door he was already painfully hard. Before he could even open his mouth to greet you, you were on him like a fly to honey, attacking his neck with bruising kisses. Whispering the dirty dialog from one of the books made Price weak in the knees.

Thus was the beginning of your roleplay sex.

Your playtime is always different. Numerous scenarios with one thing in common: Mind blowing sex.

Price would play a royal guard, and you, the prince. A prince in a loveless engagement to a princess. A guard pleading loyalty as he rides the prince on the royal throne.

A grade slipping college student fucking his teacher in an empty classroom for extra credit. Blowjows underneath desks replaces the outdated method of study and paying attention to lectures.

A hunter who falls in love with a werewolf he's supposed to kill. The wolf is just a dumb puppy who needs to be told what to do. With a collar around his neck, ready to be tugged at and the willingness to please his master, puppy soon becomes skilled at lapping at master's hole.

A rowdy rockstar and his stressed out manager. The musician needing to burn off the adrenaline after the show and the poor management needing the stress fucked out of him. The real show was played backstage. The manager put on quite the proformance, his deep moans sounded much better than your singing.

A sex therapist that prefers to take on a more hands-on approach. That skilled tongue was used more than just giving advice.

Or lastly, a priest beguiled by a gorgeous sinner. Guilt was all he felt but it felt like true heaven. God would forgive any sin if he showed true repentance, right? Wouldn't Jesus have died for nothing if we didn't sin?

Sure, some where terrible written and some were written by women with a fetish for gay men. Seeing you act out the scenes without missing a beat or breaking out into laughter while you quoted the dirtiest and most ridiculous things.

You'd remember every dirty word uttered. Every scenario memorized. Price was starting to understand what those white women on TikTok saw in those fucking books. It was just too bad they couldn't live it out like he could.

[cluelessatthispoint]

Dragon's Hoard: ch 11

(inspired by Blugiragi and Docdudo)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sensed him long before you saw him.

Ghost didn’t breathe the way the others did. Didn’t move, didn’t sigh, but he was there. Just at the edge of your vision. A shift in the shadows. A second weight in the silence.

He clung to the shadows and wore it like a second skin. Still and soundless, the kind of stillness that made your bones itch. Something primal in you knew not to look directly at him. But you did.

You turned. And instead of vanishing like a bad thought, he stood at the mouth of one of the side tunnels—half-consumed by flickering dark, half-revealed in the pulse of firelight. Watching.

When you turned, you expected him to vanish. Instead, he stood at the mouth of one of the side tunnels, cloaked in the flickering dark. Watching.

He said nothing.

As if he knew what happened yesterday with Soap still bothered you. It lingered in your mind like a never-ending nightmare. Shuddering at the memory, your eyes meet Ghost's for only the briefest moments. His silence spoke volumes. It screamed. You knew he knew. Knew about what had happened with Soap the day before. Knew how the memory still festered beneath your skin like an old bruise that wouldn’t fade.

Your breath caught. A single glance into the hollows of his mask, and it was like staring into an empty grave. A grave he very well might have crawled out of.

With your back to the cave wall, the feeling of solid rock against your spine almost burns from how cold it is. Your thin arms wrapped around your knees for warmth. The fire in the center crackled quietly, a low murmur of warmth and light against the cooler draft from deeper in the den. You didn’t look at him long. You’d grown used to the others filling every silence with noise, but Ghost never seemed to need sound. And strangely, that made him less unbearable to be around. Almost tolerable.

At least he wasn’t trying to touch you. Or talk. Or pretend to understand.

But that didn’t mean it was easy, either.

It wasn’t long before the quiet of the new day was broken, by Soap. the werewolf came bounding into the room. You heard him before you saw him— always did. His impressive claws clicking on stone, the slap of something soft, maybe a pelt being dragged across the floor.

“There you are!” he chirped, too loudly. His grin was sheepish, his ears pinned back like a dog that knew it had done something wrong but wasn’t sure what. And sure enough, there was a pelt being dragged by his side. But in his arms, he held something, almost tenderly. He was holding something—a little doll, maybe. Squinting, it takes a moment to makes sense of what he's holding. Rather than a doll, it looks more like a bundle of dried grass tied with bits of twine, knotted in places to suggest the shape of limbs and a head. “Made this for you. Look—see, it's even got a wee face on it.”

He crouched, holding the thing out like a peace offering. The smile on his face faltered as you just stared. The longer you stared, the more the hairs of his mohawk started to spike.

You didn’t want the doll. Not because it was ugly (though it was), or because it came from claws that had once curled too tight around your arms. But because it was too late. The damage was done. He didn’t understand what he’d done to upset you, not really. And that made the apology feel wrong. Like a not so well practiced performance.

Soap’s ears flicked nervously. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” you said softly, indignation curling in your stomach.

Soap blinked. You could see the sting in his cerulean eyes even as he tried to laugh it off. “Right. Of course. Just... thought it might help.”

You didn’t answer.

The silence thickened—until Price’s voice cut clean through it.

“Hatchling,” came the gravel-deep rumble, and Price emerged from the far tunnel, his one wing half-spread for balance as he ducked under a low arch of stone. His eyes were narrowed, not in anger, but in that assessing way dragons often looked at things they considered theirs. “Soap love, out of the way.”

Soap hesitated, then stepped aside with a huff, tail flicking. He muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch.

Price settled in front of you with slow, heavy movements, like a mountain deciding to sit. His golden eyes studied you with practiced patience.

“You’ve been quiet.”

You said nothing.

“Can’t blame you,” he said. “What happened yesterday... shouldn’t have. Not like that.”

You stiffened. His tone was calm, but it curled uncomfortably in your gut. You didn’t want to talk about it. You especially didn’t want to understand him.

“I told Soap not to roughhouse with you. He doesn’t know his own strength. Thinks humans are made of bark and bone like he is.”

glaring, you send a steely gaze up at the dragon hybrid. Your expression a little sharper than intended.

Price’s brow lifted. “Fair enough.”

He shifted, then reached out, slow and deliberate, as if you were a skittish animal. His clawed hand didn’t touch you—but hovered just close enough to make your skin prickle.

“Let me show you something,” he said.

You didn’t move, but your silence was enough.

Price nodded once, then turned, gesturing for you to follow. Reluctantly, you did. Brushing off your knees with both hands as you rise to standing.

He led you to the edge of where the mouth of the cave just about opened to the world outside. Ghost lingered behind, silent as breath with Soap who could be heard whining in his thick accent.

“This,” Price said as he stopped beside a stone shelf tucked beneath a low overhang, “is where we teach.”

“Teach?” you echoed.

“Yes, to teach other. How to live in the same den without tearing each other’s throats out. Just far enough into the cave, and shallow enough to take advantage of the outside if needed." The walls etched with tooth marks, talon scratches and burnt marks.

“Ghost, Soap and Gaz, they learned how to deal with me. I learned how not to torch them when I’m pissed,” he said with a dry smile. “Now we’re going to learn how to live with you.”

You stared at the stones. They didn’t mean anything. Not to you. Not yet.

“I’m not part of your pack,” you said, voice low. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” Price agreed, surprisingly gently. “But you’re still here. That makes you part of it—whether or not you think so.”

His words were meant to comfort. Instead, they curled around your ribs like vines, squeezing.

“You can’t just decide that.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “The others did. All of us did.”

He stepped back, giving you space, but his presence lingered like smoke in the lungs.

"I'm your Papa. We're your papa's now."

Then he said it.

The thing you didn’t want to hear. The thing you couldn’t un-hear.

Behind you, Soap shifted again, claws scraping softly on stone. Still holding the grass doll like a promise already broken. And Ghost—

Ghost hadn’t moved at all.

But the white of his mask burned like frost in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

here is chapter 11!!!!!!!!!!! I hope that you all enjoy it! With the requests now closed. I'll be getting to work and hopefully posting more regularly.

[random-thot-generator]

Wolves in Every Guise

WEREWOLF!SOAP x READER

— "Never trust a stranger-friend; No one knows how it will end. As you're pretty, so be wise; Wolves may lurk in every guise." 

~Charles Perrault, Little Red Riding Hood, 1969

cw: MDNI 18+ ONLY- dark themes, manipulation, sneaky fuckery, kidnapping, mention of ruts/mating, nothing explicit

(notes: it's a wee, dark one shot that needed purging.)

mdni banner: @cafekitsune | wolf divider: @sweetmelodygraphics

-

It's a dark and rainy autumn evening when Johnny happens upon you. You're stranded, poor thing, your little compact car broken down on the muddy shoulder of the remote mountain road that leads up to his cabin. You're standing there looking helpless in the drizzling rain, your red rain slicker glossy-bright as a candied apple in the deep forest gloom.

You gush with gratitude, so grateful he stopped for you. He's not even completely out of his truck before you start babbling on about how your car "just up and died!" not long after taking this road— a shortcut, you say—to reach your grandmother's home, which is just over the mountain in the next county.

Johnny gives your arm a reassuring pat. "No worries, lass. Let's 'ave a look, aye?"

He checks under the hood, telling you to "give it a crank, bon." The motor coughs and splutters, but refuses to start. Johnny soon discovers the trouble; your fuel line is clogged.

You follow behind him like a little lost pup as he stalks down the side of the car to check your gas tank. Your pretty face is all scrunched up with worry, bottom lip caught between your teeth. You look adorable and make him want to bite that plump little lip for you.

Forcing his attention back to the task at hand, he pops open the flap of your gas tank. He grunts, frowning, when he sees the telltale white granules below the opening of the filler neck. He wets his pinky, dabs up a few of the crystals and pokes it into his mouth. The sweet taste of sugar explodes on his tongue.

Wolfy senses tingling, Johnny knows that some sort of fuckery is afoot.

"Have ye ever taken this road to yer nan's before?" he asks, closing the flap.

He watches your fingers twist together, a sheepish expression dimming your big doe eyes. "Well, no..." You pause, heave a frustrated breath.

"There was a cashier at the gas station just off the exit ramp that told me about it. He said it was a shortcut over the mountain and wrote down the directions for me while the attendant filled up my tank. He claimed it was a straight shot to where I needed to go. Why? Was he mistaken?"

Johnny shakes his head, an odd little smile curling up his lips. "Naw. Tha' would be Kyle ye spoke tuh. He told it true. This road will take ye right where ye need t'go." He tilts his head, smirking. "S'pose ye already tried callin' fer a tow?"

You nod, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah," you mumble glumly. "No service. Guess it's the trees."

Johnny hums, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders to lead you to his truck. "No worries, lass. I'll take ye up to me cabin. Got a satellite phone ye can use."

Your face lights up with relief. "Really? Oh, thank you!"

He helps you into the passenger seat, fiddling with your seatbelt as an excuse to get close and draw in a deep breath of your scent. Hmmm... You smell sweeter than the sugar in your gas tank. Christ, you're so ripe for mating, he begins to salivate.

A sly grin splits his face as he rounds his truck and climbs in. He owes Kyle and Simon a huge favor for sending such a pretty little gift his way. He reckons they couldn't resist the irony of the situation, though, could they?

Here he is on the verge of his next rut, yet again with no mate, then in you waltz wearing your hooded red slicker, telling 'em you're on your way to your grandma's house. Of course, they would send you to him. The cheeky gobshites.

It's all he can do not to laugh as he starts the truck to drive you up the mountain to his cabin. Your new home.

Because, you see, little Red, there is no full service attendant at Kyle's gas station. Simon just stops in for beer every evening after closing up his garage. And this 'shortcut' to your grandma's house?

It's a private road that leads straight to his doorstep.

The den of the big bad wolf.

-

[tired-biscuit]

werewolf!Kiba finding out you have knotted dildos 👀

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: monsterfucking, scent kink, toys. he’s mean in this one, sorry.

oh my god, him being your ex-boyfriend who you can’t help but hook up with again — or should you say hook up with for ‘one last time’ because, you know, old habits die hard or whatever.

so you’re making out on your bed, every kiss urgent and angry, lips mashing against teeth. your bodies grind against each other, and his broad back is hunched from how he’s nosing his way down the side of your neck; inhaling your scent and feeling your pulse drum on the the tips of his sharp canines that are slowly growing larger, transforming…

and since he can smell what you want, since he’s already got you nice and naked below him, your scent practically screaming fuck me, fuck me, fuck me at him, before you can notice, or much less stop him, he’s pulling away from your neck with a hot lick at your skin and reaching over the edge of the bed to open the drawer that he remembers you usually keep the bottle of lube in.

you obviously need it if you plan on taking his knot again just for ol’ time’s sake — he phrases it that way, not you — but what he finds in there instead is far more peculiar.

it’s dark in the room, however kiba is a predatory type of monster so his eyes still work like a charm even whilst being burdened by shadows. his outstanding eyesight allows him to see the shape, as well as the sheer size of the object that’s sitting right beside the bottle of lube he’d meant to grab and that’s caught his attention now. even more importantly, he’s able to notice the way it expands and bulges right at the base.

almost like a-

“i thought you said that you weren’t gonna miss me the last time we spoke,” he says, every word involuntarily growly and deep from the way he’s fighting back his true nature. but also because your last fight had been one of the worst ones yet. just thinking about it makes him agitated.

your body tenses as realization of what he’d just discovered hits, washing over you like an icy cold shower. you’re still panting, your chest heaving heavily as you try to catch your breath, but now it’s like every inhale hurts a little.

“i didn’t use it,” you mumble, swallowing thickly.

“is that so?”

“yeah, so don’t even bother-”

as if on cue, you watch in horror as he reaches into the drawer and picks up the toy. he weighs it in his hand with a derisive-sounding snort, tracing the intricate veins that run along the scarily massive length before he brings it up to his nose.

ignoring the dumb, wide-eyed stare of disbelief that you give him the second you hear him sniff, kiba proceeds to take a deep inhale.

overall, the toy smells clean. like it’s been washed with the intimate soap of which he can’t remember the brand of, but knows for a fact that you use sometimes. however, there’s also something else lingering on the toy… something faded and weak, from the way it’s been mostly scrubbed off. the slightest, tiniest remnants of your scent cling to the silicone.

the very same scent you’re exuding right now.

arousal.

your ex-boyfriend smirks after he catches you in your lie, pride swelling in his chest. in that very same moment, the headlights of a passing car that’s driving down the street beam through your bedroom window, making his teeth gleam for a second.

his grin is arrogant, wolfish. perfectly fitting for a man — monster — like him. enough to send an excited shiver down your spine, even if that exact arrogance had been one of the reasons why you had decided to break up with him in the first place.

“tsk, tsk, sweetheart.” he clicks his tongue against his teeth while he drops the toy to tap the side of his nose. “lying ain’t nice, y’know? you could’ve just told me that normal cock can’t hit the spot for ya anymore... instead you’re over here trying to fuck regular-ass humans, playing with your silly toys after they leave you unsatisfied, even though i could be giving you the real thing every single night.”

“what makes you think i’d even want ‘the real thing’?” you snip, drawing your brows together and glaring up at him. “what if… what if i’m perfectly satisfied with what i have now? what if it’s better?”

you know you’re in no position to be asking such questions; at least not whilst squirming naked underneath him and with the inside of your mouth still tasting like his tongue, but trying to stand up for yourself feels better than letting him drag you down like this. even if it causes for heat of hypocrisy to slowly creep up your cheeks and neck.

“well, i dunno,” he murmurs, leering down your naked body with bright yellow eyes that seem to possess such a twisted delight in mocking you, mocking you, mocking you.

you’ve let him in, haven’t you?

before you can respond, he picks up the toy again, dragging it down the center of your belly, making you flinch when he reaches the point below your belly button. you try to reach for it but his reflexes are inhumanly quick, so he has no trouble with restraining you with a single hand.

“how ‘bout…” he pauses, grinning once again at the way you can’t help but whimper in frustration when the tip of the dildo makes contact with your sticky, throbbing entrance. the audibly wet sound the action produces makes you want to reach up and smash his teeth in — restrained or not.

especially when he says, “how ‘bout i take turns stuffing your cunt with this lil’ friend of yours, and then when we’re finished, you can tell me all about how much better it is at it than i am, yeah?”

[callsignpxnguin]

no idea if you take requests, but i saw your hybrid tf141 post from a while back and i was wondering if you’d please make a part two? not trying to demand haha but i really enjoyed it and would loveeee to see more :)

That’s such an old post omg haha I had no idea people still saw it — but the fact that you did and liked it enough to ask for more made me really happy. As such, please consider your wish as my command (with a little twist of some changed hybrids)…

Hybrid!Task Force 141, part 2

Dragon hybrid Price who treated you like part of his hoard and often took you under his wing to comfort himself, literally. It was more often than not that you had the giant limb tucked around you gently but possessively, your hands ghosting over the fibres that held it together affectionately. He got ecstatic when you asked to fly on him and you two would often go on long, late-night flights full of deep conversations and affectionate whispers. Though the best part about it was, by far, that you never had to buy lighters or matches ever again. Price’s breath did more than a better job of setting things aflame.

Wraith hybrid Ghost who will appear next to you at random intervals and in varying states. Sometimes he's completely normal and just stands in silence, but when he's been exerting himself and using his powers too much, he'll fall to his knees panting, dark lines of shadows tracing the veins in his neck. You were constantly fretting that he'd kill himself one day, and so you'd immediately panic and comfort him in any way you knew how to, immediately calling for help. Ghost would be lying if he said he never did it on purpose sometimes, just for your reaction.

Harpy hybrid Gaz who's obsessed with you preening him. The first time you complained about his loose feathers and began to pluck them out, he knew you didn't understand what the implications were of the action for harpies, but he wasn’t about to tell you and scare you off when it felt so good and he wasn’t soft for you anyway. Similar to Price, he’d let you ride on him, but his flights were often much more daring and he showed off all the tricks he could pull with no small amount of pride at your awe. His favourite thing was to make you scream in exhilaration, and if you didn't pass out at least once during a flight from pure adrenaline, he didn’t consider it complete.

Werewolf Soap who couldn’t be around anyone but you during the full moon. As a werewolf, he didn’t actually have control over his wolf form when the transformation occurred, and as such he had been terrified his whole life that he may harm someone he loved if he was ever around them. When you unwittingly found him growling, furry, and tied to the bed in his room one night when he forgot to lock the door, though, you both discovered that he knew you so well that even his canine form warmed to you. The moment you got close enough he was nuzzling and licking your neck, and curled his huge body around you like you were a treasure he vowed to protect.

[mushr90]

mush's ultimate fic rec guide!

𓍊𓋼 a masterlist of all my favourite works made by various creators here on tumblr. most of these are series', but i've categorised them by 'series' and 'oneshots' just incase. i've made sure to tag them, link the posts, and add a brief summary for each, so y'all can digest and enjoy too! i'll also be updating this regularly hehe (*ᵕᴗᵕ)⁾⁾

𓍊𓋼 please read through all of the tags listed for each fic carefully as i am not going to be listing them here! you control the media you consume.

𓍊𓋼 updated: 14/07/25 🔔

𓍊𓋼 key: ✩ = ongoing / ✮ = completed

Red Dead Redemption II

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

Baldur's Gate 3

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

The Last of Us

series

⟢ 'daddy next door' by @cavillscurls (dom! joel miller x sub! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "its summer in texas, and when the dashing joel miller moves in next door, your less than favorable life gets completely turned around."

⟢ 'of rage and ruin' by @corazondebeskar-reads (werewolf! joel miller x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joel miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. he turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though."

⟢ 'Waiting Game' by @gutsby (dbf! joel miller x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joel miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. a cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you."

Resident Evil

⟢ coming soon!!

⟢

Call of Duty

series

⟢ 'Cherry Red, Crimson Blood' by @soaps-mohawk (tf141 x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "task force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what price has been saying since its formation. two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it. it works for a while, until the omega initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so price thinks."

⟢ '𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚐 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚗𝚢' by @void-my-warranty (simon riley x fem! reader x johnny mactavish) ✩

summary: you and simon have been together for years, but, unable to give you what you truly want in the bedroom, what you need, he decides to bring in the only other man he trusts to do the job -- johhny. as feelings grow and troubles arise, will this arrangement come to a crumbling head, or will there be an alternative solution?

⟢ 'AS NEEDED' by @novemberheart (tf141 x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: after having previously been rejected by task force 141, their decision to finally accept an omega into their pack comes with many troubles and uncertainty, and your new place here might not be as permanent as you think.

⟢ 'Jaws' by @alkalineapparition (simon riley x hybrid! fem! reader) (this one is on ao3) ✩

summary: "alone and half feral in a dirty cell, ghost finds you during a raid beneath a military research lab. it quickly becomes clear that something isn't right with you, your behaviour more beast than human. a result of horrific human experiments, you're a failed attempt at making genetically modified soldiers with killer instincts and keen senses. instead they produced you - a mutt. ghost is assigned to be your handler, to help you heal and shape you in to the 141's very own attack dog. but the bond between a handler and their beast eventually turns into something more..."

⟢ 'In Limbo' by @ilium-ilia (mafia! simon riley x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "joining the mafia is no different than selling a soul to the devil, and it's something simon riley is all too willing to do if it means keeping his family safe. it isn't until he meets you–the girl who runs from everything–that he realises there are much worse things to be caught up in."

⟢ 'Daughters with Soft Underbellies' by @ilium-ilia (outlaw! john price x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "all your life you have known nothing but the word of god and your father's short temper. every day, you are forced to turn the other cheek for minor mistakes you make within your father's gaze. yet, as a devout follower to god and your father, you have no one else to turn to. when the owner of the saloon tells you about some strangers lurking around town, you decide to take your chances with these wayward men in the hopes that they'll save you. but they are dangerous, conniving bandits; a fact you learn a little too late. you should have known that sheep who stray too far from the flock are at the mercy of the wolves. better sharpen those teeth of yours, little lamb."

⟢ 'anatomy of us' by @bi-writes (alpha! simon riley x omega! fem! reader) ✩

summary: "in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you."

⟢ 'Breaking Bread' by @softaestluv (simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "simon riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you. simon riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall."

⟢ 'Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones' by @softaestluv (mechanic! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "you never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is."

⟢ (1) 'RETURN TO SENDER' (original) / (2) 'IN CONTEMPT' (sequel) by @sai-int (criminal! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: (1) "it was a joke. A letter to a criminal—uk's most wanted. you told him he was hot. told him you were a virgin. left your address, because it’s not like he’d ever get out, right?" | (2) "you tried to move on, but no one quite measures up; not to the way he touched you, not to the way he ruined you. but when he reappears, you can feel him even before you see him. the past has a way of punishing disobedience, and now, it’s here to settle the score."

⟢ 'RASPBERRY GIRL' by @peachesofteal (dom! simon riley x sub! fem! reader) ✮

summary: captain! simon riley takes an interest in the sweet and docile little bakery-worker and vows to make her wholly his.

⟢ '𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤' by @cinnamonghostcrunch (simon riley x fem! reader) ✩

summary: "where in you move to manchester to start fresh, only to cross paths with a mysterious local who changes everything. what started as an unexpected encounter soon evolves into something much more, growing increasingly complicated as his secrets and your doubts cast shadows over everything."

⟢ 'INK & NEEDLE' by @gloomwitchwrites (tattoo artist! simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "a night out in london to celebrate your friend’s upcoming marriage ends with a quick hook-up in a club’s green room. you don’t expect to see your masked man ever again, and you leave it as a one-time thing. three years later, you’re back in england, and find yourself facing the man you walked away from at that club. he's running a tattoo parlor just down the street from where you’re staying. over time, your paths cross and cross again until the two of you are tangled up in a messy web. will it last? or will one of you walk away?"

⟢ 'houndtooth' by @bitterrfruit (simon riley x fem! reader) ✮

summary: "you're the pampered wife of a russian warlord. ghost hunts you down and finds a use for you."

⟢ 'LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO' by @peachesofteal (doctor! simon riley x nurse! fem! reader) ✩

summary: all big and private, though unfathomably soft when it comes to the job, simon riley is one of the leading neonatal surgeons in the country, and a force to be reckoned with. just having been transferred to his floor, will the raise alone be enough to handle his attitude?

⟢ 'ichor tongue; salted wounds' by @ilium-ilia (warlord! simon riley x servant! fem! reader) ✩

summary: bound forever as a servant to emperor shepherd, you find yourself unsure what to do when a band of barbarians swarm your city and slaughters your lord. a warlord usurps the throne and instantly implements changes; a strange man who goes only by ghost, many are wise to give him a wide berth less their skulls become the new faceplate to his mask. deciding to keep your shackles, you serve your new leader despite the monstrous scars that warn you otherwise, but your mutism garners more attention from him than you anticipated, and he seems keen on ensuring that you sing properly for him one of these days.

*major credit to all the creators mentioned, and to the ones i'm yet to discover! you guys are so talented and i love you ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و♡

[mina-org]

୨୧Monster concept

୨୧captain price, gaz, ghost, & johnny as monsters

୨୧ word count: 1000

୨୧Warnings: monster fucking not smut tho, implied in gaz n soap, yandere themes &tropes, dark romance, mentions to death, dying and bones

୨୧captain price as a hunter

୨୧ inspired by Herne the hunter, tw for suicide if you read the original tale but I won’t be mentioning it.

୨୧ The tales of prices’ woods were conflicting; some groundskeepers thrived, the sweetest fruits grown and the harvests would be consistently good for half centuries, than others who didn't survive a night, starved during winters, seemingly promising harvest would be found rotten at the last moment. In every tale however, no one leaves.

୨୧ Price is as old as the land he protects, he’s shed his antlers more time then he can remember and though he loves his eternal chase through the forest but his affection for human has waned after these years. However, there's a shiny new groundskeeper moving in and he always finds some enjoyment from them, whether it's from working with them or working against them, price always has fun.

୨୧ Lucky for you, price has deemed you a mortal he likes, you don't exploit his land, you end the culls on badgers and the needless fox hunt, you don’t take too much. Price adores your company, so he gives you gifts, the sweetest fruits you never planted, fruits you had never seen before, you had heard tales of the new world having such bounties you should've known it would’ve come at a price. The next time you try to go to town, the forest is endless, by dusk you arrive back at your cottage, an otherworldly being waiting for you.

୨୧ Ghost as a werewolf

୨୧ Six men, six of the village’s best hunters had been dragged out their home to the woods, only their bones remind at the tree line, like the creature was mocking the them. You had found a few scattering your herb garden, you did not tell the town, afraid of their accusations. You were already an albatross of sorts, bringing it up would only bring misfortune on you and your garden, the councilmen were always so quick to point fingers. You had warned them if the over hunting continued nature would return the favour but you had been laughed off the stand. 

୨୧ The new butcher was strange. He frequented your shop, trading you meat for your supply of wolfsbane, smelled of wet dog and seemingly had no clothes that fit him. His scent lingers, haunts your shop, sticks your person and invades your home. Even when he’s not there, you wake to his smell, like he's skulking, leering through your walls. He gives you first pick though along with any tallow and of course bones.

୨୧ More and more people go missing, you cannot walk to the forest without stumbling over bones. The council calls a meeting, the wolf has started picking off the councilmen leading their once icy oblivion turning into paranoia ready to burn their own once again. lucky for them a butcher was eager to step in and he stuck out. So strange compared to the overs but he demanded attention, barking plans and orders. Impressive really a true wolf in sheep’s clothing, humans will believe anything but the truth.

୨୧ Soap as nessie

୨୧ You had seen the monster once as a child, now with a shiny new camera and degree in film, you'd prove nessie was no hoax or farce but a real creature haunting the loch, lurking beneath the water. It’s practically deserted, not surprising, snow so heavy the roads are blocked, no one enters, no one leaves. Just you and a groundskeeper? Or was he a fisherman? It didn’t matter, but he did indulge you.

୨୧ a week goes by and nothing. No tail, no head, no body, not until the last night, well supposedly the last night. A hump had showed up, and you had caught it on camera, it was tantalising, so close, like you could feel the scales beneath your fingertips. You couldn't let this slip away. You would grasp on to this, even if it was just a hump. So you extended the trip, luckily enough, Johnny, who turned out to be a nessie fanatic too, had a cabin nearby and helped you with his own theories, even suggesting camera angles and how the species may work as a whole, though the population and how the creature breeds or is seemingly immortal is still unknown.

.୨୧ An extra week, turns into months and you finally have enough footage. You're so thankful to Johnny and accredit so much to him, you’ve grown so close to him and you leaving brings a sadness over the cabin, though Johnny is eager to push the rain clouds away, throwing you a bonfire goodbye party, though its still just the two of you. The fire burns bright and long into the night as a full moon rises to its apex and Johnny shares a secret with how the species reproduces.

୨୧ gaz as a siren

୨୧ who knew collecting seashells would be your fatal mistake. Looking out you see a body submerged, with a sort of incandescence you’ve never seen before and rush over playing the good, pure prey gaz so often found himself indulging in when sailors and fishermen were just too much work, plus you smelt so much sweeter.

୨୧ “s/o” A melodic whisper calls you forward, closer and closer, and gaz realises he’s found himself a treasure, his very own pearl. No longer prey, a mate. Gaz’s cave had been feeling lonely of late, after what's the point of having such a bounty with no mate to enjoy it with. The lovelorn melancholy also radiates off you in waves and gaz recognises it and he’ll fix that for his treasure.

୨୧ You feel his tail twitch beneath you as he sits you on his lap on the shore. He feels assured once you're stunned to silence, staring at the way his tail scales glistens and shimmer under the bright noon. You follow his scales up his body until you met his golden eyes, missing the razor sharp teeth hidden behind his pretty lips. The same plush lips soon press against your pulse, “pretty pearl, give yourself to me.” you can only nod, in the presence of the almost celestial being, completely ensnared.

[scarsnfevers]

Fire & Storm

Chapter III of Wolfgang

summary: problems exist to be unraveled. But when a stranger stepped out of the shadows to offer their hand, you sensed—too late—that they carried with them a fire far greater than your own. And somehow, you found yourself drawn to it… willingly, almost hungrily.

genre: werewolf!stray kids x werewolf!reader x werewolf!changbin

chapter word count: 4,4k

chapter warnings: mature language

It had been three weeks since that morning by the lake.

Since the howl that had cut through the silence like a memory uninvited, since the scent in the air had told you something was coming, or perhaps already there. But you hadn’t gone back. Not once. You had turned away, just as you always had. It wasn’t what you wanted.

A pack. Wolves. Alphas and Betas and Omegas, all pressed too close together, their thoughts loud and their emotions louder. Too many scents in too little space. It reminded you of the city, of closed windows and crowded rooms, of breathing in everything that wasn’t yours until you forgot where you ended and others began. You had fled that life with both hands open, desperate to reclaim something that resembled solitude. Perhaps it was your past that made you wary. Or perhaps it was the taste of peace you’d found here in the woods—quiet, sacred, untouched. You didn’t want to give it up. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You hadn’t thought about them much since then.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

The sun was dipping low now, casting long shadows across the winding dirt road as your car rolled steadily toward Fox River. The engine hummed beneath you, steady and familiar, as the trees blurred past on either side. The small town sat nestled at the edge of the forest, about eight kilometers from your cabin. It was the only place nearby with anything resembling a store. You liked it well enough. It was quiet. Uncomplicated.

You parked just off the main street, near the old general store with the faded red awning and creaking wooden steps. The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the scent of dust and old pine rising to greet you. Shelves lined with canned goods, dry staples, and the occasional local brand of honey or soap greeted your gaze. The woman behind the counter gave you a polite nod, one you returned with a faint smile.

You moved through the aisles with slow, practiced ease—grabbing coffee, oats, dried herbs, rice, and the few vegetables that looked halfway fresh. A carton of milk. A small bag of dog kibble, though you hadn’t had a dog in years. You kept it just in case. Some part of you liked the idea of being prepared. The town had its rhythm, and you moved to it like someone who’d lived here much longer than you had. No one asked questions. No one pried. That was part of the unspoken agreement.

But when you stepped back out into the cooling air, bags in hand, you found a familiar face waiting by the side of the general store.

John.

He offered you a warm, worn smile, the kind that creased the corners of his eyes. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his weathered jacket, his boots dusted with gravel. "Evenin'," he greeted. "Didn’t think I’d see you in town today." You smiled softly. "Running low on a few things. Figured it was time." He nodded, eyes scanning the bags in your hands. "Looks like you’re set for another quiet week, then." "Hopefully," you said.

There was a pause. Comfortable.

"Everything alright up at the cabin?" he asked, head tilting slightly. "Anything need fixing?" You hesitated, shifting the weight of the bags. "Nothing serious. Just… I think something’s off with the boiler. Hot water’s been a little temperamental. Comes and goes." John scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Could be the ignition valve. Or just some old pipes acting up. Want me to come take a look?" You shook your head. "It’s alright. It can wait until tomorrow afternoon. No need to trouble yourself tonight." He looked at you then. Not just looked—saw. A flicker passed across his features, something thoughtful. Knowing. Like he was reading lines between the words you hadn’t spoken.

He knew. Or thought he did. But he said nothing of it.

Just nodded once, slowly. "Alright. I’ll swing by around three tomorrow, then. See if we can’t get it sorted." You offered him a grateful smile. "Thanks, John." He tipped an imaginary hat and turned, his footsteps crunching softly against the gravel as he made his way down the street. You stood for a moment, watching him go. Then you turned back to your car, loaded the bags into the trunk, and climbed behind the wheel.

The drive back felt longer than it had on the way in, the dusk settling heavy around you. The forest was quiet again, its trees tall and ancient in the fading light. But something about the silence felt… deeper now. You didn’t dwell on it. Just kept driving. Back toward the cabin. Back toward solitude. Back toward the peace you had chosen.

For now.

You hadn’t been waiting for him. Not really.

The afternoon had moved slowly, the kind of drowsy quiet that settled into the bones of the forest and stretched its limbs across the floor of your cabin. A low breeze had picked up, slipping through the trees and brushing past the windows, whispering like it carried stories. The kettle had boiled and cooled again. The sun crept steadily across the floorboards, casting long, golden shadows through the kitchen. You’d almost forgotten about the boiler entirely—until the phone rang.

It was an old sound. Sharp and jarring in a house that had known only silence for days. You flinched before you even registered the name on the screen: John. With a breath, you picked up.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” his voice came through, warm as ever but strained, almost sheepish. “I just—wanted to give you a quick heads up. I won’t be able to make it out today.” You glanced toward the window, toward the trees that swayed gently in the wind. “Oh?” you asked, shifting the phone to your other hand. “That’s okay. Everything alright?” There was a beat of hesitation on the other end. “Yeah. Mostly,” John said, with a rough huff of laughter. “Had a bit of a run-in with a bad landing this morning. Tripped coming down from a survey point near the southern ridge. Arm’s busted pretty good.” Your brows rose. “God, are you alright?” “I’ll live. Got it wrapped and iced. Gonna be in a sling for a while though.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. He was kind—the kind of man who still stopped to help when someone’s groceries spilled in a parking lot. “Is there anything I can do?” “No, no,” he answered quickly. “I just—well, I figured you might still need someone to take a look at that boiler. I can send one of my....son's.., if that’s alright. They’re good with that kind of thing.” You hesitated only a second, fingertips brushing the edge of the counter. “Sure,” you said. “That’s fine. I don’t mind waiting, though. It’s not urgent.” “No trouble,” he said. “One of them’s already out near Fox River. I’ll give him a call. Shouldn’t take him long to swing by.”

Something in his voice wavered again, almost like he was waiting for you to say more. But you didn’t. You only nodded to yourself and said, “Thanks, John. And take care of that arm.” “I will,” he said, and his voice softened. “And… thanks. Talk soon.”

You hung up and stared at your phone for a moment longer than necessary. There was nothing strange about it. People got hurt. People sent others in their place. Still, something sat just beneath the surface of that call—like the moment before a storm, when the air thickens and the leaves turn the wrong way. You felt it in your skin. But you pushed it down. There was no room for paranoia here. Just quiet. And maybe a boiler that hissed more than it should. You moved through the rest of the afternoon with quiet intent, letting the rhythm of small things carry you. A cup of tea. Folding the last of the laundry. You wiped down the counters even though they weren’t dirty. Lit a candle you’d almost forgotten you had, and let the scent of cedar and clove drift into the spaces between your thoughts. You didn’t expect whoever it was to show up early. Or late. Or at all, honestly.

But sometime past four, you caught the sound of tires crunching gravel—slow, deliberate. You paused.

The wind had stilled.

It wasn't the kind of silence that comforted. It wasn't peace. It was the kind of stillness that pressed against your skin like a second weight, heavy and unmoving. As if the forest itself had paused to watch what came next. The air had shifted. You felt it the moment your hand reached for the door handle and your breath snagged in your chest. Something ancient stirred beneath your ribs. A whisper of instinct, not loud enough to hear, but loud enough to feel.

You stepped outside.

The wooden boards of the porch groaned softly beneath your feet, the sound muffled by the thick silence hanging in the trees. The forest beyond your cabin stood utterly still, draped in shadow and bathed in the cool amber light of the lowering sun. The scent of pine hung in the air, earthy and grounding.

And then you saw him.

Leaning casually against the side of a dusty pickup truck, arms folded across his chest, a young man stood watching the cabin. Watching you. He wasn’t tall—not by usual standards—but there was something solid in the way he held himself. Compact strength. Sinewy confidence. His frame was broad, the shape of someone who worked with his hands, who moved often and moved well. But it wasn’t his posture that made you stop.

It was the scent that hit you first—familiar and foreign all at once. Smoke. Not like cigarette smoke or wildfires. No, this was different. Campfire and ash. A hint of birch bark curling in flame, mixed with something warmer… spiced cedar, maybe. And underneath it all, something unmistakably alive. Wolf. Alpha. Your breath caught, shallow in your lungs.

You hadn’t expected this.

You hadn’t expected him.

For weeks you’d avoided every path, every noise, every scent that hinted at pack. You’d come here to disappear—not just from the humans, but from them. Wolves. The structure, the hierarchy, the mess of scent and sound and expectation. You hadn’t come looking for a pack. And yet here he was.

His eyes met yours.

And the world, for just a fraction of a second, forgot to turn.

Your wolf stirred.

Not with aggression, not with fear—but with alertness. Awareness. Something raw and ancient, curling at the base of your spine. You didn’t shift. Didn’t move. But you felt it nonetheless—the way your body responded before your mind could catch up. The young man pushed off the truck and crossed the gravel path toward the porch. His movements were unhurried, fluid in a way that betrayed practice. Graceful. A predator at ease. When he reached the bottom step of the porch, he paused—just long enough for the silence to stretch again.

"Changbin," he said simply, voice deep and smooth, with the faintest rasp of gravel. "John sent me. Something about a boiler?" It took a beat too long for you to respond. The name pulled you back. Your lips parted, air returning to your lungs. "Right. Yes. The boiler," you echoed, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door. "Come in...By the way, I'm Y/N." He nodded and ascended the steps. You watched him carefully—not because you feared him, but because you didn’t understand him. He moved past you with a nod of thanks, the scent of ash and wolf lingering in the air between you.

Inside, the warmth of the cabin wrapped around your skin like a thick blanket. You’d lit the fire earlier, though the flames had dulled to glowing coals. The young man scanned the room briefly, taking in the details. Not in a nosy way—more like a soldier assessing terrain. You noticed it because you did the same.

You led him to the narrow hallway that wound toward the cellar door. Still, that silence lingered between you. But it wasn’t awkward. It was… charged. As if words would only shatter something too delicate to touch just yet. He took the stairs down into the basement first, and you followed, arms folded, pulse loud in your ears. The cool air of the cellar greeted you like a damp exhale. Shadows clung to the corners, and the single overhead light cast golden pools against the concrete. Changbin crouched beside the boiler, inspecting the pipes and wires with practiced ease. You stayed a few paces behind, unsure whether to speak or let the moment stretch longer.

"So," he said, voice calm as he worked, not looking back, "what brings you out here?" You blinked, caught off guard by the normalcy of the question. "I needed quiet," you said after a moment. "The city got too loud. Too many.... 'people'."

He hummed, like he understood. "It’s quiet out here," he agreed. "But not empty."

You tilted your head slightly. "No. Not empty."

Silence again.

You watched the way his shoulders moved beneath his jacket as he worked. The way his fingers traced the old wiring, firm and sure. The scent of his wolf still hovered in the air, softer now, but no less distinct. It clung to your awareness like static. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Is it just you out here?" You nodded. "Just me." Something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. A quiet kind of respect. "Takes guts," he murmured. "Being alone with the woods." You offered a faint smile. "I’m used to being alone." He didn’t press. Just nodded once and turned back to the boiler.

The minutes ticked by with the soft clink of metal, the low hiss of a valve turning. You leaned against the wooden beam, fingers tracing the grain absentmindedly. Finally, Changbin stood, wiping his hands on a cloth from his back pocket. He turned to face you, features unreadable for a breath.

"It’s not a quick fix," he said. "Your boiler’s old. Could patch it, but it’ll just break again. Best to replace it." You nodded, already expecting that answer. "That’s fine. I can manage with cold water for now." A faint smirk ghosted across his lips. "High body temp has its perks." You lifted an eyebrow, matching his tone. "So you did know." The man tilted his head, amused. "I could smell it on you from the driveway." You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head lightly. "John never mentioned… that he had wolves working for him." "He doesn’t," Changbin replied. "Not usually. I’m… family." You looked at him more closely now. The dark hair, the sharp eyes, the quiet confidence.

"His son?" A nod. "Unofficially. He took me in when I was young." You absorbed that in silence. Somehow, it made sense. The steadiness. The scent. The eyes that held things too old for his age.

The steps back up from the basement were quieter than before. No words passed between you as you ascended, only the soft creak of the wooden stairs beneath your feet and the faint hum of your thoughts. The tension lingered in the air like static, fragile and unsaid.

At the threshold, Changbin paused. One hand already on the doorframe, his figure half turned toward you, framed by the fading light of the evening. His eyes met yours — steady, calm, but something in them held weight, like he, too, had felt the pull that stirred beneath the surface. “I’ll come by again tomorrow,” he said, his voice low, almost reluctant to break the quiet. “Late afternoon.” You gave a small nod. “Alright.”

There was a heartbeat of stillness. Then, with a last glance, he stepped outside. “Take care,” he murmured.

“Yeah. You too,” you answered, maybe a little too fast — and the moment the screen door clicked shut behind him, you let your breath slip out, sharp and quiet. Your fingers lingered on the doorknob as you stared out into the evening, watching the outline of his truck vanish between the trees. Then, without letting yourself dwell, you closed the door — perhaps a bit too quickly.

Your wolf was pacing beneath your skin.

Overstimulated. Overaware. Overwhelmed.

And for the first time in a long time… not entirely alone.

The truck rumbled down the narrow, winding road, its tires humming against gravel and fallen needles. The forest stretched out around him, silent and shadowed, the last traces of twilight caught between the high branches like secrets left unspoken.

Changbin’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary.

Only when the cabin disappeared behind the trees did he exhale — a long, slow breath that deflated his chest and loosened something behind his ribs. The quiet he’d worn like armor in her presence crumbled at the edges, the controlled composure slipping free now that he was alone in the hush of the truck’s cab.

And still, her scent lingered.

Wildflowers. A storm — soft, but gathering — somewhere in the heart of summer. And lilac.

Not the sharp kind that clung too sweetly to the air, but one that was worn into the skin, like memory. Like a name never said aloud. It filled his lungs even now, even as the night pressed in around him, and it was maddening in a way he hadn’t expected. Maddening because it was unmistakable. Not just wolf. Not just stranger. But her.

He ran one hand through his hair, raking it back from his forehead, knuckles grazing the edge of his jaw. It had been hard. Hard to stand there in that house, beneath the low ceilings and the hush of the trees curling close to the walls, and pretend not to feel the way the air had shifted the moment she’d opened the door. To pretend he didn’t feel the answering pull — old as instinct, sharp as hunger — low in his chest. He could still see her eyes, the quiet caution in them, the silence stretched too tight between every word she’d spoken. But also something else.

That flicker.

Recognition.

He understood why she had come here. To disappear. To breathe without the pressure of too many minds crowding her own. He didn’t know what had driven her into these woods — not yet — but he knew that look in her eyes. The kind of quiet you only found after something inside you had burned down to embers.

And still…She’d looked at him. Really looked. And his wolf had gone so still inside him he thought for a moment it had stopped breathing.

The road leveled out ahead, and he turned onto the wider stretch that led back toward the forest station. The windows were down, the crisp night air tugging at his shirt, and somewhere in the distance, a hawk called — high and lonesome. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to tell John. He didn’t even know what he’d say to her tomorrow. But the part of him that was wolf — the part that had barely stirred for months — was awake now. Watching. Waiting. And wanting.

His jaw clenched. He shifted gears. The truck picked up speed.

By the time the familiar outline of the cabin came into view, warm lights glowing behind curtains and the low sound of laughter echoing from inside, Changbin felt like he’d aged a year on the drive back. He pulled into the gravel lot, the headlights sweeping across the porch where someone had left boots by the steps. The engine groaned to a stop.

He sat there for a moment, unmoving. Letting the weight of the woods settle over him. Letting her scent — finally — fade into memory. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the night.

The scent of rosemary and charred onions greeted Changbin as soon as he stepped inside. The air was warm, thick with the promise of food and the kind of domestic noise that came from too many bodies moving in practiced rhythm.

From the kitchen, Maria’s voice floated in soft Spanish, quick and affectionate as she instructed Felix on how to slice something thinly, not murder it, as she put it. Hyunjin laughed under his breath. Jeongin muttered a protest, clearly the one who’d earned the reprimand. The floor creaked beneath Changbin’s boots, but no one turned — not until he passed the archway into the living room.

John looked up first, shifting carefully in the armchair where his injured arm rested in a black sling. The television was on, some wildlife documentary playing on mute, but the soundless narration couldn’t hold their attention now. Chan sat cross-legged on the couch, a hand loosely cradling a mug of coffee he hadn’t touched. Jisung was slouched beside him, a throw blanket bunched at his hip, his head turning as if drawn by static in the air. Not one of them said a word. But they could smell it.

Her.

The sharp, instinctive awareness of another wolf. Female. Powerful. Present.

John blinked, unaware of the subtle shift in the room, and smiled faintly as he gestured Changbin over. “You made it back fast.” Changbin nodded once and stepped farther inside, ignoring the way Jisung’s eyes practically glowed with unspoken questions. “She still having issues with the boiler?” John asked, flexing his good hand around a mug that had long gone cold. Changbin met Chan’s gaze briefly — quick, silent — before answering. “It’s shot. She’ll need a full replacement.” “Damn.” John leaned back with a quiet exhale. “You think you can take care of it?” “Yeah.” Changbin’s voice was steady, low. “I’ll head over again tomorrow. Late afternoon.”

A soft “oye, te escuché” came from the kitchen as Mary called for her husband. John sighed with a chuckle, then slowly pushed himself to standing. “Duty calls.” As he passed through the doorway, the room shifted.

The moment he was out of earshot, Jisung sat forward, tension crackling like static between his shoulders. “Okay,” he said, eyes wide, voice hushed but sharp. “You were in her cabin?”

Changbin didn’t answer.

“What was it like?” Jisung pressed on, leaning in. “Did she— I mean, what did she smell like?” His grin was sharp, teasing. “Wait—don't lie—was it like, ‘oh no, we might’ve just—’” “Jisung,” Chan said quietly.

The tone was enough.

Jisung stopped mid-word, mouth still open, eyes snapping to Chan like a scolded pup. Chan didn’t look angry — not exactly. Just steady. Grounded. A silent, firm enough. Changbin smirked despite himself, gaze dropping to the floor for half a second. The echo of her still lingered in his chest. That scent, the silence between them, the way the air had shifted the second their eyes had met. He didn’t answer Jisung’s question.

He didn’t need to.

Footsteps behind him stirred the air. Soft, nearly weightless, like a breeze catching leaves. Minho entered the room without a word, his presence so quiet it was almost ghostlike. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes shadowed and unreadable. “I might need help tomorrow,” Changbin said without turning around. His voice was steady, but it carried the edge of something that hadn’t been there earlier.

Chan looked up from where he sat, a hand draped casually over the armrest of the old couch. His expression was calm, but his eyes missed nothing. He nodded once, slow. “Alright.” “I’ll come,” Jisung volunteered instantly, almost too quickly. There was eagerness in his tone, but also curiosity, hunger—for answers, for involvement. “I can handle it.” Chan turned his gaze toward Jisung, his demeanor cooling. “No, you can’t.”

“What?” Jisung looked between them, his tone halfway between a protest and a plea. “I’m not a pup anymore.” “You’re not,” Chan agreed evenly. “But you’re still too green as an Alpha. You don’t walk into something like this unless you know how to hold your center.” Jisung bristled but didn’t argue. He knew better than to push when Chan used that voice—the one that quieted rooms. Chan’s eyes moved past Changbin then, landing on the silent figure in the doorway. The weight of his gaze shifted the energy in the room. Changbin turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder.

Minho was watching them, or perhaps just watching him. The older wolf gave no outward sign of emotion, but the air around him was heavy, still. His arms remained crossed, body unmoving, but his eyes met Changbin’s with that unspoken understanding only those like them shared. A moment passed, stretched out like a taut wire. Then Minho gave a single, slow nod.

Jisung groaned aloud. “Seriously? You always get to go.” “Because he doesn’t talk shit in front of other wolfs,” Changbin said without missing a beat. Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but Chan’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and warning. The younger wolf clamped his mouth shut and sank back into his seat with a grumble. Changbin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly in amusement. But it didn’t reach his eyes. Not fully. The scent was still there. Lingering. Threaded into the fibers of his jacket, his skin, his memory.

“Tomorrow afternoon?” Minho asked, his voice low and quiet. Changbin nodded. “Yeah.” “Good,” The other wolf murmured. His tone was less about the boiler and more about the unspoken truths hanging between them all. The fire snapped in the hearth, loud in the pause that followed. They didn’t need words. Not really.

The scent on Changbin was loud enough.

masterlist | prologue | chapter I | chapter II

🐺 taglist; @shoganaiiii, @h0rnyp0t, @maddy24207, @ihrtlix, @alisonyus, @poody1608, @asweetblueberry2, @thatgirlangelb, @rougegenshin, @vampkittenb82, @braveangel777, @dark-moon-light02, @softchannie, @miniverse-zen

[ghcstao3]

saw a comment under this tiktok and now i’m thinking about werewolf!soap x butcher!ghost

they meet on a rainy day, when soap takes shelter in the first shop he sees once it begins pouring. it only hits soap that he’s made a grave mistake upon first whiff of the cuts of meat, but he can’t just turn around and go back into the rain because that’s weird, and he already isn’t human.

the man at the counter barely raises an eyebrow at him, though, even as he stands at the door soaking wet and looking anywhere but the display, and even as soap is the only one in the shop. it’s only when soap is lingering in the same spot for a solid five minutes does the butcher look up, an irritated scowl on his face as he glares at soap.

“gonna stand there all day, then?”

sheepish, soap shrugs. “jus’ didn’t want to track in the water.”

the man scoffs, before pointing to a far corner of the shop where two small tables and chairs are set, a silent order before he returns to carving the slab of meat he’d been working on earlier. soap hesitates, but eventually shuffles over and winces as he sits with the unpleasant squelch of his clothes.

soap knows the man is privy to his quick glances at the counter and subtle attempts at sniffing the air, but nothing is said for a long while. they just sit in silence until the rain clears about an hour after soap’s arrival.

as soap stands and wanders over to the door, that gruff voice from earlier tells him to wait. soap does so obediently, remaining glued to his place as he listens to the man move about behind the counter before finally his footsteps are approaching soap, and a heavy hand falls on the werewolf’s shoulder.

presented to soap are two cuts of meat wrapped in butcher paper, a look not indicative of anything on the man’s face.

soap accepts, opens his mouth to offer to pay, but the man’s back is already turned on him to retreat to the counter—but soap stays put, dumbfounded, clutching the meat to his chest.

when the butcher turns around and sees soap still there, he huffs, less annoyed than he’d been the first time around.

“not the first wolf i’ve met,” he grumbles. “y’have a look about you.”

“…thank you?”

a grunt. “get out of my shop.”

soap swallows thickly, nods, then makes his leave.

and as he walks, footsteps beating an even rhythm on the sidewalk, a nagging voice in the back of his head tells him he will most definitely be returning to the little butcher shop some time in the near future.

…just to get more steak, of course.

[addictao3]

Poly Hybrid TF141 x Angel Male Reader?

You joined the TaskForce after being transferred out of your old squad. They didn’t really need giant Angels anymore. So you were sent away. You heard about the dangerous TaskForce141. The Dragon Captain, The Werewolf Sergeant, The Harpy Sergeant, and The Lieutenant Wraith. You knew it would be weird, your just joining and such but-

“Jesus fuc-” Sergeant Soap states. You’re a hunk of a man. Practically 7ft tall, large imposing wings with eyes on them, a muscular body(with a slight chub on the stomach). Though your wearing a white cloth over your eyes. Your other ones watch the group like a hawk. Just staring.

“Welcome.” Captain price walks up to you, though you can tell his spikes on his tail are up. Ready for anything. You nod your head.

“Thank you for having me sir.” You say plainly. Your other eyes monitor their expressions. You can see that the tuffs of fur on Gaz’s wings are standing on edge, Soaps claws are slightly out, and Ghost looks like his full form, angry. “I hope we work well together.” You fold your wings back, leaving only two of your “eyes” watching them. You can see them slightly relax.

“You’ll wear the cloth of’en then?” Soap asks. Walking into your space. You look down at him. For you he’s like a puppy(his tail is wagging behind him).

“Ah yes- it’s better for us all.” You say calmly, you don’t want to scare them.

(A while later)

You’ve become a vital member of the team. Becoming closer with them. You bring Captian price flying just to remind him what it’s like. You make nests with Gaz. Go running with Soap. Though Ghost was still cold to you. That changed when you were on a mission.

“[Redacted]!” He rushes into the area, you weren’t answering your comms and- full stop. You were standing in the middle of a battlefield. Enemies strewn around you, just pieces. Though that wasn’t what caught his eyes. It was you, you without your blindfold. He froze as he looked at you. You didn’t- you didn’t have eyes. “[Redacted].” Your wings flow out. Menacingly. Your other eyes watched for enemies and then you saw him. You quickly cover your empty sockets.

“Lieutenant.” Your angel eyes could see him walk closer. They stiffen and the ring on your neck glows. You can a ‘see’ him pull bandages from one of his side pockets.

“Hey. It’s okay- can you er- kneel?” He asks awkwardly. You drop to the floor quickly. Your knees thudding on the blood soaked ground. Slowly your hands are moved from the two empty spaces that once held your eyes. Ghost could see the golden blood that welled in them, not dripping out. He wraps the gauze around your head. Making sure your sockets are covered.

“It was a mission gone wrong.” You say start. “A traitor in our group. He knew I could usually see how his magic was being used. So he took my eyes.” Your voice was soft. “But I thank him sometimes. Not being able to see with these eyes has helped my other ones.” Ghost tapes the gauze down and helps you stand up(okay maybe not helps, he just stands there as an arm rest. What you’re fucking massive).

“[Redacted]… it doesn’t look like our regular kind of eye socket.” He says quietly. “It’s gold.” You laugh.

“Well yeah. I’m an angel. My blood is gold.” You smile at him. “Let’s go hm?” Ghost nods and follows behind you.

After that well it was like he was your shadow. Constantly behind you. Watching your back(knowing that you literally can see behind you.” Now that you had Ghosts seal of approval, everyone else became more… touchy.

Do yall want more chat? DO YALL WANT A PART TWO??!??!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

More on the poor girl who’s 141’s chewtoy?

She has the worst fate!! Being a pet wife/incubator for one monster is bad enough, but it can be manageable if your new owner isn't an asshole and doesn't treat you like a lifeless object. It's a rare case, sure, but even Konig is somewhat softer after you get his eggs, the mating instincts in monsters are all kicking in. The 141 however...I love to see them as a pack of different breed shifters, maybe were-creatures like bears, wolves, and various birds...they all have this semi-animalistic mentality, they formed a pack bond that is stronger than any blood relations. They are more than family and it's only natural that they share the same darling, yes? Unfortunately for you, it is only natural for them, and you're soon getting dragged from the human pet shop by an excited overgrown werewolf with a dumb mohawk that chirps about getting such a pretty girl for his team!! You are never alone - every time other team members are on a mission, the other ones take care of you, always keeping watch over your silly escape attempts like humans have any future in the monster world now( Gaz is usually the one who is softer with you, his nature as a werebird is making him somewhat more caring, he will drag you a lot of shiny gifts and flashy clothes because he is pretty and he wants his girl to be pretty! Soap is usually the one to always fuck you, unfortunately. Being a classic werewolf, he is too fucking horny for his own good, always stuck in a knot with you, always mating and hoping that you will give birth to healthy pups, even though he is somewhat sad they are mostly taken away for the training needs( his pack mentality is strong, so if you really really really want at least some of your children to stay with you, you should beg Soap to allow you to see them occasionally - he would gladly steal the pups back to base, but it would mean you won't give him as much attention(

@ceilidho mostly inspired me for this, but werebear!Price is literally perfect and I won't stand for otherwise. He is big, burly, with a soft tummy and warm hands that would easily push you down, ass up in the air because you were a naughty little incubator and whined too much about Soap and Gaz being too rough( he knows your limits, and also knows that they are spoiling you too much! You need some discipline and your bear captain is gladly providing you with spanks that make your ass raw, with his teeth and a dick that takes away your ability to walk at least for a few days( he is older than every other member of the pack, and he won't really bother you too much with sex - he knows you're tired, especially if you're pregnant, and he enjoys slow cockwarming sessions and just laying in the nest with you, false hybernating on your swollen, milk-filled breasts.

Ghost is...complicated. You don't even know what type of shifter he is at first, he is too fucking secretive to even talk about it. Only after a few involuntary breakdowns, could you catch a glimpse of his shadowy form - whatever animal-type monster he was, staid in the past. He is all shadows now, dark and glossy with smoke tendrils that help him handle you in place every time you become too squirmy. You were so convinced Simon hated you at first, just a dumb human who disrupts the balance of their pack, but your fears were proven wrong once you were pressed against a wall, thick dark tendrils squeezing in and out of your pussy. Ghost is the only one who can't breed you, and it only makes him more protective whenever you're pregnant.

[lynnnors-blog]

More Eltingville Headcanons

Here’s some more headcanons of these losers (my children) and me sidetracking on my essay for funz! I’m gonna focus on stuff I think they’d like/do!

- We’re all in agreement Josh would be a brony, his favorite? Pinkie Pie.

- I think Bill would like cardigans, I don’t think he’d like hoodies though

- Jerry would play the Sims (totally not telling the club) and make sim Bill like his sim (he craves acceptance)

- Pete would’ve used Axe spray at some point

Sanrio, who they’d like or who they’d get pair up with as a Collab:

- Pete would fuck heavy with Badtzmaru

- Jerry’s color is green so I feel he’d stick to characters with loads of green and I think he’d like Keroppi’s big ass eyes.

- Listen, Bill would deny any involvement with Sanrio character power scaling but deep down……. he’s so basic with his pick, no offense Cinnamoroll lovers 💔

- Josh? Bonbonribbon, no explanation. (I just think he’d like some really cute stuff, but he’s still an asshole and would push a child all the way to hell to get any merch of this character)

Werewolves vs Vampires??? (I’m just thinking of stuff I did as a kid with friends 😭)

- I feel that Pete would so badly wanna be Count Dracula but I know he gives off werewolf vibe too, like this guy would definitely howl at the moon and tell his classmate he was feeling some type of way after seeing it

- Jerry wants to be unique soooo bad so he’ll say swamp monster (he was put in the werewolf team by force)

- Bill, I always feel like the meanest people wanna be vampires so yeah

- Josh would be a vampire too, I think one Halloween him and Pete went out with the same costume (they fought)

Small Talents/Hobbies:

- Pete mentions doing figurines (or well kinda) I think he’d secretly be interested in miniatures (recreating murder scenes to be frank, or his favorite horror scenes from films)

- Bill can sew pretty well and probably even fix some materials here and there (I mean him and his friends break so much shit, you gotta start getting good at fixing stuff, specially when you’re not well off which Bill’s family isn’t last I heard, and speaking from experience 💔)

- I have this fun little headcanon that Josh, although his writing sucks, he’s actually pretty decent at writing romance, I connect this back to another headcanon in which he was more involved with his mom when he was younger, like they’d watch soap dramas together and shit

- Jerry he’d do little magic tricks, my thoughts are that he initially tried to impress his parents (who in my head mostly ignore him or are just not that present) it probably didn’t work but it was fun at least so he’d go ahead and learn more

Other stuff:

- I don’t think they all read fanfic, most likely to do so though would be Josh, Jerry and maybe Bill

- If they were Gen Z, they’d probably say the brain rot shit 😭 Bill acting all high and mighty would roll his eyes and say it’s stupid as hell but I know damn well he’d laugh on the inside

- Don’t let them have instagram, social media in general but instagram especially, after all, they are who they are

- Bill would receive his exact coordinates in this time in age, lemme tell you

- It’s kinda dumb but I lowkey do think Josh and Jerry would fall for an AI chatbot (help them)

- Pete would post his recommendations, he’d probably get strikes though

— Author’s Note—

Anyways, I gotta go back to doing homework 😔, but is there any headcanons or stuff y’all would like me to do? I was thinking on doing an Adult Eltingville Headcanons soonish! Anyways, see ya!