#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.

[natelia-aldelliz]

More werewolf au because I can :

Graves wasn't supposed to know about the werewolves, but Shepherd knew so maybe that's how he got the intel. As he's betraying them, he asks, almost begs, Soap to come with him, to join him against Alejandro and Ghost.

Alejandro because of the 'drug affiliation' thingy and his blatant dislike of Mexicans and Ghost because he's a monster. A beast, not even human. And he wants to protect Soap, believes him to be in danger, doesn't listen to Soap trying to de-escalate the situation, trying to ask him not to do that.

(Because he believes he knows what other people need more than them)

And Soap still has that very primal fear inside of him everytime he's around his the pack, that prey instinct that his predators are there, waiting for him to lower his guard. That's true, he does, he's even too scared to admit he's also not fully human.

But never, ever, has he considered betraying them, going against them in anyway. He wouldn't be a good cat if his fear of bigger predators wasn't overtaken by his very cocky very wrong feeling that he could take them all in a fight if he had to.

His cat-self was scared of their lycanthropic-selves, but he himself had never been scared of them as people. Well. Scared that they'd reject him, that they'd never consider him a member of the pack, yes. But scared that they'd hurt him? Not really.

Graves doesn't appreciate rejection, getting told no. He opens fire, Soap gets a bullet in his shoulder, Ghost begs him to get up and run.

He roams the streets with his head swimming from the blood loss, fighting against his instincts to just turn into a cat, curl up in a hole somewhere and lick his wounds, purring to himself to try and comfort the betrayed-hurt-helpless feeling in his gut.

But he can't, because he's not like the were-people, he's not a werecat, he doesn't heal faster. And his human biology makes surviving a bullet wound easier than the cat biology for some reason. (He tried, it just made him go in shock faster.) The hands keeping the blood from flowing freely definitely help for one. And what if Ghost contacts him and he can't respond and his LT thinks he's dead and leaves him here?

The Shadows are everywhere. The good thing is that his eyes see better in low light than theirs, than even the night vision helmets. His hearing is also better, though not as good as his cat-self's. That means he always knows where they are around him and he can avoid them.

When he's finally reunited with Ghost, the man keeps throwing him weird looks, but doesn't say anything. Soap can't really focus, he needs all his remaining blood doing actually important things and analysing your superior-officer-that-you've-been-lowkey-flirting-with's looks isn't one of these.

They reach Alejandro's safehouse, are reunited with Rudy, then Ghost sees him wobbling in place and drags him in the little medbay to see to his wounds. He gets stitches, incredibly thankful for Ghost's steady hands. As he finishes up though, his hands stay a bit longer on his shoulder, one of them climbs up to his ear and tugs it slightly, his eyes still staring.

Soap knows what he's doing, has seen Price lightly tug Gaz' and Ghost's (through the mask) ears, knows that it's a stand in for nipping them when they're in human form, as a way to say hello, or assert dominance or comfort them. Reserved for pack members.

Has... has he been accepted in the pack? His heart is beating faster, which isn't good with all the blood he's lost and the fact that the adrenaline is running out fast. His head is spinning. He looks up at Ghost with dilated eyes, trying to focus everything on him to try and understand before he passes out.

Ghost is looking straight at him, as usual, his head slowly tilting, his eyebrows furrowing in incomprehension. His peripherals are darkening more and more, darkness seeping in, and his eyes suddenly feel very hot while the rest of his body is getting cold and tingly.

Ghost's hand makes its way to the back of his neck, helping him hold his head up as his vision gets more and more blurry.

"What even are you?" Soap thinks he hears whispered as he finally loses consciousness.

[shrekyaoi]

The dichotomy of Yuri turning Anatoly at the command of Makarov vs Yuri turning Roach of his own volition

The real question is, what repercussions would this action have from Makarov and do the 141 accept a much furrier Roach.

oh yes exactly. the entire mess of a powerplay of yuri being made to turn anatoly contrasts VERY nicely with yuri turning roach of both of their own free will. it also acts as an inversion of makarov turning yuri—yuri had no idea what he was asking for and he made that decision with barely any consideration for what was about to happen. roach would be asking because he would see it as an escape, and somewhat as a way to improve his situation plus the fact it’s yuri. this is a way for him to regain some control over himself and his life and yuri would give it to him if he asked. there’s just something about that that i like

makarov would probably be pissed as hell but grin and bear it because roach is more of an asset now (we will. uh. get to that in the fic don’t worry) but the 141? jesus. i don’t think they’d believe him even if he said he asked for it, but i also don’t know if he would considering their attitude about that kind of thing. the metaphor mixes with reality here. idek how the fuck he would explain it on top of the other issues he’s gonna be in dire need of justifying like. roach buddy you have really backed yourself into a corner here. but there is one thing going for him and that thing is that ghost is down bad and soap is down worse but will never admit it and a lot of people would close their eyes and fumble through the dark for the people they care for if it came down to it

[bluegiragi]

cockatrice (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

--

werewolf lore drop ahead!!

although werewolves are classified as a shifter-type monster (same as Horangi or the cockatrice) they're actually unique in a hidden way. Horangi is a hybrid whose lineology originates from the first pureblood haetaes, which had zero human in them. In comparison, werewolves originated AS a human-wolf monster, which results in an interesting relationship between the human and shifted 'full-wolf' form.

While Horangi is the same in his human and haetae form, Soap juggles two souls in one body - one belonging to human side, and the other to his wolf. They are both still implicitly him - the souls run parallel with one another throughout his life - but being a werewolf is very much like maintaining a life-long partnership. Soap and his wolf are a great example of a success story, but some werewolves have difficult relationships with their wolf, resulting in only transforming during full moons when they have to.

In some ways, Soap is perfect in the military's eyes as he has a strong connection with his wolf, and happens to come from a long line of larger-than-average specimens (even though he doesn't care too much about his genealogy, preferring to call himself a mongrel breed). In other ways, he's also a nightmare, because his wolf exemplifies the worst in his rebellious streak, featuring recklessness, fickleness towards authority and an extremely low tolerance for boredom.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[yandere-kokeshi]

Saw an idea from @frogchiro and decided to write some feral content. Send her some love ❤

TW: yandere, monster fucking, werewolves, some crack/funny thoughts, talks about pregnancy/having pups (still gender-neutral), and knotting stuff.

Imagine TF-141 being yandere werewolf hybrids, falling for you all at once, each sharing their own yandere traits; which, causes all of them to be wherever you are. The need to scent you. Need you to be beside them at all times. And soon bring you home as theirs.

And now, you're their mate, sharing is needed — pack mates practically share everything, no?

Out of the four, Soap and Gaz are the absolute worst — they're feral, energized through the roof, and has to follow you around constantly; nudging into your crotch as they need to smell you. Smell your addictive scent that makes them all types of crazy, causing them to start nipping at your poor skin, growling at each other as the need for breeding comes along.

They both love to yap and bark at you, gently grasping your hand to guide you back to your bed (aka nest) so they can cuddle you (or stuff you full of their knot, their fluffy fur likely suffocating you.)

Though, you are often saved by Simon, and Price, whom are the biggest. They growl at them to watch it and gently bite their ears on scolding, snarling at them of needing to be more careful, and to not hurt you. You're their perfect mate!

Of course, Soap and Gaz make it up with sloppy kisses. And how can you not forgive them? Their obvious doggy eyes working perfectly.

Simon and Price are more so on the chiller side. Watching from afar, and demand cuddles that end up with their heads laying on your lap, the thumping of their tails on the chewed-up couch shows their appreciation when you finally decide to pay them attention.

But don't think they don't get possessive – because they do. More often or not, the hickeys and knots come from them. Though, they're regularly the nicest, rarely one to hurt you, and more aware of their size.

But, their breeding cycles are the fucking worse. Soap and Gaz are naturally horny, biting at your form as their tongue hangs out, but Simon and Price are a menace when in heat. Being more vocal, possessive, and often nipping at your ankles to not stray too far.

Regularly dragging you by the scruff of your clothes where the two of you can mate, spending their heat in peace. Making sure that you can see Price flexing his burly muscles, wanting you to admire their wagging fluffy tails, and showing off how thick, glossy Simon's fur is, and how both of them. All of them, really, can provide you with pleasant things, including a healthy litter of pups.

Despite them being pack mates, all of them are fighting on a regular basis — they all want to be the first one to breed, knot, and have you carry their pups.

When in their full werewolf forms, soap is more prone to chasing butterflies, and bringing you back half-alive birds, barking at you for his proud hunt – his mouth and chest covered in deepening blood.

Though, Gaz, and Price, actually bring actual gifts that are thoughtful — plopping full landscape roses in front of you, the roots still connected to the plant as their tail wag violently as they wait for your praise.

Simon, on the other hand, brings actual food. Like… steals a whole ass barbecued-chicken from someone's backyard, and nudges it closer to you as it's still warm.

Stares at you to eat it, his hazel eyes demanding for you to take it, but immediately snaps at Johnny, who only cackles back. He tries so hard to steal the items every time Simon gifts you something (he just wants a bite out of your food — sharing means caring!).

Everywhere on your body is marked by them, the harsh-but-yet healed maw-marked implanted into your skin. Their marks are typically licked, and kissed on by them.

Bring me some more ideas, please!! I fucking love these men who are feral for you — especially as werewolves 🤭

—

Here's my mw2 masterlist for more things <3

[owlcomics101]

Werewolf task force 141 x human!reader Head cannons

Warnings: Some gore, Reader’s gender is neutral, sfw (I am a minor), wolf cuddles, some language

Context: You are the only human on the task force 141. Lasswell put you on the team to balance out with all the bitting and snarling. Your practically their ‘babysitter’

Soap: Trying to relax? Get a good night’s sleep? NOPE! Not with Soap around! Soap will drag your ass out of bed either very early in the morning or late at night to get you to go running in the woods with him. He loves racing you, chasing after you, or you trying to chase after him. His werewolf form is very playful with you and sees you as his playmate and will not leave you alone for the WHOLE night. Hes always gentle with you when he plays with you and if he ever accidentally hurts you in anyway he will always lick you to death as his wolf’s way of apologizing. Though, this does leave you completely covered in wolf slobber by the end of the night. Gross. Enjoy having a clingy Scottish wolf slobbering all over ya

Ghost: Despite’s Ghost’s cold and aggressive demeanor towards you in his human form, his wolf form acts other wise. He’s not as clingy as Soap but he does make a point to follow you around base. He lets you do whatever you want throughout the night as long as you’re under his cared supervision. He hunts for you and even looks very smug and proud of himself with blood dripping from his jaws. You never really eat what he hunts for you or you at least cook it. When he watches you eat what he hunts for you can see his tail wag in the corner of your eyes. Clearly, happy you appreciate what he does for you and he’s even more happy when you share with him, but he doesn’t let you share with anyone else. Especially Soap. He’ll kill him.

Gaz:

Gaz loves to sing to you throughout the night in his werewolf form. Howling his lungs out and waking up the whole Damm barracks as he expresses his love and devotion to you. The only way to get him to shut up is to howl with him. Or at least try to. Sometimes the others might join in on the howl but Gaz always tries his hardest to be the loudest so you’ll only pay attention to his ‘beautiful’ singing. Other than that he is the most chill out of all of them. He’ll let you sleep during the night after you hear his lovely singing and won’t drag you out of bed unlike the others. Just dont mention the word ‘Treats’ or ‘walkies’. He’ll snuggle up next to you and fight Ghost and Soap for the spot next to you. He loves a nice ear scratch from you and chews on his hat which is alway torn in the morning and he has to buy a new one.

Price: Price is a patient wolf, he lets the others have their fun with you and then it’s his turn. His wolf form sees you as his pup and his alone. He’ll carry you around base by the ‘scruff’ or the back of your uniform. He doesn’t let you walk on your own. Price also hunts for you as well but he does not let the others eat until you have eaten first. He makes a point to give you ‘baths’ and by bath it means getting covered in old dog slobber. Sorry, you ain’t escaping it no matter how many times your shower. When you go to sleep he sleeps on top or you to keep you hidden under his fur, even if it’s suffocating to you. If you try to leave he will snap and snarl at you. Yeah. Your not escaping Price when he’s in ‘daddy wolf’ mode.

[lovifie]

Hi this is my first ever request lol, so I uh was wondering if you could write a soap x reader little red riding hood. It could be some cute fluff or I guess even smutty depending on how you'd want to depict it. Sorry if it's a rather blank request, I'm very bland when it comes to writing and such (>_<)

Hi love! Thank you so much for the request, I hope I met your expectations 🩷

It did turn really smutty though, so I hope you don't mind 🩷

Smut | 1818 words | Back to Masterlist

W: Werewolf!Soap x Little Red Riding Hood!Reader (inspired at least), smut, defined breeding kink must it's mostly a werewolf thing, biting, mentions of pregnancy (is the breeding kink warm up, you know), knoting.

You were used to being the one taking your grandma her food, making sure she still ate the produce she couldn't acquire in her house deep into the forest.

So every other week, you would do your little journey. It didn't take long, you'll get to her house before lunch time and you chose to stay the day with her before making your way back.

You already knew the path like the back of your hand, always on time and never getting lost.

There is also Johnny, a friendly neighbour who on many occasions chooses to walk along with you. The chat is nice, makes the walk more entertaining even when you go the different route that Johnny showed you; just because it is longer and that way you can talk for longer.

You obviously didn't trust him at first, a grown man in the middle of the forest sounds terrifying on its own. And you need to add to that the fact that Johnny is built like a brick house.

“I could have you for dinner.” He joked once when you asked him what did he ate to be so big. A silly joke.

The fear of the big man following you in the forest, quickly turned into the big man walking with you. And the little fear you had of the wild dissipated the closer he walked with you.

Especially, when during the spring rumours started flying around about a massive wolf living in the forest. Apparently a huge striped dog has been seen walking on the forest line for a couple of weeks now, always looking into the town but never quite entering.

The dog, big enough to be the size of a grown man on his hinged legs, eyes that reflect the light of the fire and teeth to rip the flesh off the bone.

Your grandma moved out of her house, moving inside town to be away from the animal. Still, you couldn't sleep at night knowing Johnny was out there.

With your grandma living in your house, you didn't have an excuse to walk in the forest. But still, on a freezing morning in the middle of spring you found yourself walking inside the forest wishing you could come across Johnny quickly and be back home.

What you come across instead, is a growling behind you. So deep you feel it shaking your bones before you can see it. You only need to see the outline of the monster before you are sprinting for your life, it is a stupid decision and you know it. It immediately triggers the beast to follow you.

The path to your grandma's house has never been so long and you don't even make half way through before you fall, tripping on your own feet. You turn around, looking for the dog which seems to have evaporated into thin air.

A warm hand on your back makes you jump, turning around and coming face to face with Johnny, a pained expression on his face. You jump into his arms, a groan into your ear as he hugs you back, a bit too hard.

You peel back when he cups your face. “You shouldn't be here, bonnie.” He says, looking in pain, making every alarm bell ring on your head.

You pat his body, looking for any injury and hearing him groan whenever your hand touches his body. “Are you in pain? Did it attack you? Are you fine?” You ask frantically.

“Lass!” He grunts, making you look into his eyes, dark when you lay your eyes on his. “You need to get back! Get away from me!”

“But why?” You ask, hurt with the rejection. “I came here just for you, Johnny…”

He groans, looking away from your face as he licks his lips. He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “You need to go back because every part of my body is screaming at me to eat you whole, bonnie.”

“You can.” It comes out before you can register it, you are not a stranger to your own feelings for the man in front of you. The weekly walks, your hand on his arm, his hand on your back, the soft pecks on your cheek when saying goodbye. It quickly had you getting home warm on the face and your tummy.

The man groans again, closing his eyes, as if your words hurt him. “You don't know what you are saying-”

“I do! I do know!” You argue, cutting him off and sitting up closer to him but his arms pull you back. He looks down on you, searching for any doubt in your face. Anything that could silence the hungry voice in his brain, but when the only thing he can find is the same hunger in yours he laps forward, crushing his lips on yours.

He is not gentle by any means, his wide hands roam your body pulling you closer, grabbing your body, winking his nails into your flush meat, biting your lips, growling on your mouth. His hands scrunch up your dress, ripping the bloomers under it making you gasp at the feeling of the cold air on your core.

“I can fucking smell you, bonnie. And it's driving me mad. You have been driving me mad for months.” He grunts against your mouth, grabbing your hips to sit you on top of his.

You whine at his words. “I want to feel you, Johnny. I want to feel you here.” You say, grabbing one of his hands to place it on top of your crying cunt.

Johnny takes a deep breath, regulating himself, before he sinks two of his fingers inside of you; the stretch making you mewl against Johnny's neck, moaning softly as he starts to move his wrist.

You can feel him grind his hips against your, the material of his trousers rubbing against your exposed clit making you whine and he quickly shushes you kissing your temple as his fingers open you up for him.

“I can't wait to sink into you, my sweet bonnie.” He groans at you, making you clench at the sound.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, closing his eyes as he hums at the taste. His pupils impossibly wide when he opens them again, the blue on his eyes barely visible.

He helps you onto your hand and knees, standing behind you as he licks your neck from behind, his tip probing at your entrance. You don't have a chance to peek at his shaft, so you don't expect the wide stretch that just simply seems to never end.

Never in your life has you felt this full, the stretch of his fingers far from enough and it has you falling face first with his hands on your hips.

He grunts when he bottoms out inside of you, bending down to lick the tears on your cheeks. “Shh, bonnie lass. You are taking me so well, I could live right here. So tight, so warm, so wet “ he moans, pulling his hips slightly back making you whine as you clench down making him grunt.

It's too much, it is reaching places you were not aware existed; his wide hands on your hips keeping you in place, it has your brain mushy barely able to put your hands under your face to prevent yourself from eating dirt.

His thrust starts to get deeper, slowly pulling out until only his tip is inside just to push in again just as deliciously slow as the first one. It is torturous how slow he fills you up, the empty feeling when he pulls back making you whine and move your hips back.

He pulls himself back, not wanting to give in to his instincts just yet, needing to know you are ready. The way your cunts sucks him in whenever he pulls back making him grunt; he hears you moan his name, asking for more, and that is everything he needs to hear.

He bends down, hugging your middle as he shoves his face on your neck, keeping you in place to be able to piston his dick in and out of your weeping cunt as fast as his hips allow him.

It pulls the breath out of your lungs, only able to moan loud like a whore as the man on your back fucks you like a bitch in heat.

His arms are tight around your body, his grunts and groans loud on your ear and when his hand moves lower, right over your clit rubbing it, is like pushing the button to have you coming undone.

You cry out his name, eyes rolling back as you do, your cunt pulsing around his cock making him fuck you faster.

You don't have time to come back down, not stopping pleasure waving over you. Filth being talked into your brain. “I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, love. Gonna keep you forever, full of me, love. Gonna make you a mama, round and plush.” He groans, his brain empty of any sense and only listening to his instincts of breeding, the spring making him completely lose his ability to think clearly.

Another round of stretch has you whining softly, you are already to the brim what is it now? You cry at the feeling, Johnny mouth opening over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His thrust became sloppy, more shallow as if he couldn't move as freely. He bites down hard on your shoulder, making you whine at the pain but the way you clench down on his length as he grunting as he comes inside of you, his hips flush with yours.

You moan at the feeling, warmth feeling every bit of your inside. But after a while you try to pull, wanting to lay down. Just for a stinging sensation to make you cry and Johnny to grab your hips to prevent you from moving.

“Let's stay like this for a little, bonnie. We stuck.” He groans, as if it makes perfect sense.

“What?” You ask confused.

“Shh, I'll explain it to you later, love.” He says, licking your neck like a dog and caressing your body.

And you want to argue, to understand what he means, to understand what is inside of you opening you so widely, to understand why he was talking about pups, to understand why he bite your shoulder so hard, to understand why the wolf following you suddenly disappeared when he appeared, to understand why he told you to go away, to understand how he found you so easily.

But your eyelids start to weigh tons when Johnny hums behind you, kissing your neck. Plus, the spring is barely starting and Johnny's den is close by. He'll explain later, when his brain stops screaming at him to keep breeding you.

[thegnomelord]

Shark Merperson reader is real gud.

- 🦈

(HOLY FUCK. THANK YOU TO WHICH EVER ANON REQUESTED THAT BECAUSE I FUCKIN LOVE SHARKS.

Now Im thinking of a Price x Reader, because shars are the oldest species known to exist. Obviously sharks arent immortal, they've just been on this earth way b4 tress bloody existed.

So Im thinking the readers an eldritch creature, they represent sharks as a whole, as long sharks exsist they exsist. Heck they mights of even of been Prices mentor when he was in his draconic 100s? (Late 20s?).

Imagine Price missing his friend calls him up to see hows hes doing. Reader elated to meet an old friend, accepts the invitation to meets up with him. Reader definitely scolds him for lossing a wing, honestly is pertrified Price lost a piece of himself and thought he was retiring due to it. Cut ahort to him smacking him slap dab on the head when he learns he's lost it a long time ago and didnt tell him.

Cue wholesome interactions th 141 and etc. Heck maybe some romance with Price.

Just a blurb i had yo tell you abt)

Okay, this tickles my eldrich abomination trying to act human itch

CW:SFW, eldritch reader, kissing

Price knows you're there the second he steps onto the old wooden pier, able to smell seaweed and brine and something in the air — what he thinks the bottom of the ocean smells like, old rot of decaying whales and older heat of geothermal vents — the soft wind billowing his hair like the breathing of an elderly beast.

He knows you're watching him, passively at least, washed up mermaid purses dotting the beach to give you a glimpse of the world above the waves through the yolks vital for the pup's survival, able to dream of the warm sun and course sand while you slumber beneath the waves.

"Oi, ser, yer look like a wee lass waiting for her sailor." Soap's sharp voice cuts through the air, the werewolf far too energized for his own good, the sand in his fur not dampening his mood when he can just shake himself off and flick the grains on Simon.

"Hah," Price snorts, "Maybe I am." He tilts his head back to the sea, sharp eyes watching the breaking waves. "Time to wake up old friend." He mutters your mangled name under his breath, mortal lips and vocal cords unable to replicate your own voice.

The young ones in his team lack the sight needed to notice your form slowly rise from the sea like a submarine breaking through the ice, only the visible flicker of air and the receding water keying them in. Price old enough to see you without needing the inner surface of his skull to be dotted with eyes. Though even he sees your real form like a man having a stroke — vaguely familiar at first yet the details are undefinable — flesh and sea melding together without rhyme or reason, long strings of seaweed bearing miniature eyes with pups wriggling inside, cookie cutter sharks boring holes through finless corpses so long eel sharks may form ever reforming sinews, fossilized bone and old rock giving giving support to the massive insult to reality's laws; birth and life wrapped up in death.

You're an affront to logic. And with one sneeze from existence itself you're human standing in front of him.

Eerily human.

Perfectly human.

Almost.

"What the fuck?" He can faintly hear Gaz's voice, all of them only now noticing you stand where you weren't previously.

Your hand touches his back before he even registers you move, always slightly damp, "When did this happen?" You ask as you trace the spot where his wing used to be. "What did this?"

"And a 'hello' to you too sweetheart." He clasps a hand around your waist, purring softly in greeting as he pulls you closer to his chest. Even if he sees you once every few centuries, even if you don't possess the ability to reciprocate, his love for you is as youthful as it was when he was but a wyrm.

Your facial features remain neutral like the ones of sunken statues, but you blink, and for a few seconds he can see that yawning abyss in your eyes. "Hi." You say, your hand still tracing the bump created by atrophied flight muscles, trying to judge how fresh it is. "Explain."

Your tone sounds like a predator baring it's teeth, but he knows you wouldn't harm him. "In a lil' bit." He snorts, puts pressure on your back until he forces your legs to move. "Come, want you to meet my boys."

The introductions are odd on both ends considering you hadn't spoken with people other than Price since that Icarus of a passenger ship mistook your fin for an iceberg and they've never met an old one like you. But you like them, they compliment Price just like the small scale he gave you makes the pearls and gold offered to you through the ages shine more.

Even if your face is unreadable, somehow they can figure out you're not too amused when you hear he'd lost his wing during a mission. "I told you arrogance would cost you." You at least you can mimic a sigh as you rub your head, "At least you retired." You say,

"We wish!" Soap snorts before he can help it, and the next thing they hear is a horrific crack that has them jumping out of their skin.

Your head had whipped 180 degrees with the rest of your body remained in place, the laws of nature nothing more but blurry guidelines. "You. . .did retire?" You ask, voice like the roar of a whirlpool.

"About that," Price starts, unable to finish his thought as you slap him upside the head as if he's still the whelp who thought he could brave an ocean storm.

"You'll put me in the grave." You growl, holding him by the ear, words spilling from your mouth like seawater filling the empty bowels of a ship. "I swear your scaly hide hasn't learned a single thing-"

"Should we help?" Gaz wonders as they watch you chastise their captain like he's a boy.

"No, this is great entertainment." Ghost chuckles.

"Want me ta grab the popcorn?" Johnny ads, already snacking, tail thumping against Simon's leg and growling playfully when Gaz reaches for the snacks.

Eventually your anger relents, mood changing as swiftly as the tide. You spend the time they have left learning about the men he's chosen as his hoard. Kyle's a bit weary of you just due to his harpy nature, but soon enough you two can be found sitting on the pier and fishing, and if you purposely make the waves flow so a big fish snags on Kyle's line, Price never says anything about it, not when his boy has a smile as big as the sun when he looks at the gigantic fish flopping on his hook.

You attempting to help Soap cook the barbeque, but you're fine motor skills are rusty after all these years of slumber, so the food is slightly burnt but Price loves when his food's basically charcoal and eats it with a smile, especially as it keeps you from telling all the embarrassing stories you have of him, from when he got his ass bit by a squid to when he was so horny he ended up rutting against an extra curvy piece of rock, though the rest have already heard enough dirt to bury him for the next several decades.

Unfortunately for Price, you and Ghost hit it off like a house on fire, and Ghost ends up learning far too many ways to hurt people without killing them that most definitely are against the Geneva conventions but you pull seniority on it. Simon in turn, teaches you how to play cards, which, when you're literally a god that can see almost everything including your opponent's cards, means the shmucks Simon ropes into playing you and Simon end up with empty pockets.

As the sun stars to dip behind the horizon you wind up sitting next to Price by the fire, the others splashing in the water.

You feel his wing spread behind your back to pull you closer to him, "I missed this." He says, knowing you won't comment on the 'I missed you' hidden behind his vellum words.

"Last time we met like this Napoleon was still emperor." You hum, a small yawn escaping you, sharp tips of shark teeth peeking from human gums. "And you had two wings." You can't help but point out, making it clear you've not forgiven him about not informing you.

Price pointedly ignores your later comment, his hand tentatively, almost shyly, reaching down to sit on top of yours. "Afraid I'll forget about you?"

His pulse picks up when you shift your hand to hold his, fingers lacing together when you don't have a tail as a human. "You wait for me." You shrug, holding your free arm up, reality wheezing for a few moments before his scale is suddenly in your hand, shiny and unharmed just as it was when he'd given it to you all those years ago. "And I dream of you."

His eyes widen and heart melts, a purr rumbling in his chest "C'mere sweetheart," He rumbles and pulls you into a kiss, free hand holding your chin stable.

You taste of salt and blood, of chilling cold and boiling heat, of something ancient and familiar and Price drinks it all down like a babe, tongue licking in your mouth and fangs nibbling on your lip, feeling you respond, the touch of hungering god as soft as silk, just to him.

But he knows this won't last.

A shark has no reason to stay on land, and a dragon can't survive underwater regardless of how much he wants. Soon you'll return to slumber, and Price won't know when he'll see you again, if he'll see you again, or if you'll learn of his passing when your waves swallow up his ashes.

He doesn't notice the prickling in his eyes but you do, wiping a stray tear with the pad of your thumb, your other hand still wrapped around his. "Don't worry John," You say, statue features finally cracking into a small smile, "I'll stay for a little while." You say and lead him into another kiss, the other members of TF141 leaving you two to catch up on lost time...

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Chapter 3

Werewolf!141 x Female Reader

So maybe you weren't the spy they thought you were..

That just meant they had to find others reasons to keep you...

Warnings: MDNI, dark themes, manipulation, lying and gaslighting, drugging, humiliation, kidnapping, non-con touching, non-con looking, forced proximity, forced nudity, groping, manhandling, panty stealing, poly 141 taking care of reader, reader is bedridden for a while, she needs help with everything...and I mean everything, some religious themes, reader comes from a religious household, sorry if a missed any.

Silver Tongues like Bullets Masterlist

Words: 5.1k

-24/11/2023 11:00am

The cabin was pleasantly warm, the air carrying notes of burning cedar throughout the rooms. The fog had cleared up but no one was in the mood to leave the cabin. Even Soap decided to stay in, which was surprising. He’d be the first to take any chance to run in his wolf form. But since you left a little over an hour ago things didn't feel the same. The cabin felt colder, emptier, not as lively as before. Soap was gazing out the window from his place beside Simon who was on the laptop still going through your emails and social media trying to find information. They've both been mopey since your departure though Simon hid it pretty well. Price felt the same; he was much better at hiding it though. It was so odd how infatuated with you they had become. Yet the older two would never admit it…not yet anyways.

They received a call from Laswell in the early hours with an update. She hadn't found anything useful but she said she'd keep searching and call later. Price had caught Simon gazing at your sleeping form when he woke to take the call, though he had decided not to say anything to the brooding man. They all acted normal when you woke up, trying their best to get you to eat breakfast with them. But you were evasive and skittish, asking to leave as soon as possible. It seemed you had caught on that they drugged you. Your scared expression made Gaz and Soap heart ache since you didn't talk to them like you did yesterday. All they wanted to do was hold and cuddle you but it was too soon for that. Just as Gaz was about to make an excuse. Simon had chimed in and said that the hot chocolate was meant for him since he didn't like taking his pills straight. You looked surprised when he had spoken to you but accepted the lie without question.

You really needed some common sense knocked into you…or fucked into you...preferably fucked into you…they'll get to that eventually. You still refused to eat breakfast though and waited patiently for them to be done.

The rest of the plan went smoothly enough. You seemed upset when the truck had ‘broken’ down but didn't make a fuss about it. Rather you just asked for directions to find your way home alone. Even accepted their lie about having no reception on their phones without even checking them. That’s when the real plan kicked in and Gaz grabbed a map insisting on taking you back to the hiking trails himself as an ‘apology’.

Since then Gaz has been keeping Price updated through sneaky texts sent here and there. And Soap only just quieted down trying to convince the other two men to keep you. It’s not that Simon and Price didn't want to keep you because they definitely did. Imagining you in their shared countryside home was an absolute dream come true. Thinking about coming home to your loving arms after a long mission would fix their souls. But kidnapping you wasn't the answer, it wouldn't exactly make you trust them now would it? It was better to do it the proper way. Though they had to leave soon they could always come back and try to court you properly. If the infatuation with you stays, that is. Price was still convinced that this reaction they were all feeling was because they haven't been around anyone but themselves and Laswell for a really long time. You were a change of pace, something new, something exciting, something for the boys to sink their teeth into. For now they all waited patiently for Laswell's call. When the *ping* rings out throughout the living room, everyone's head snaps to the phone sitting on the coffee table. Soap lunges for the phone first but before he can text Gaz for pictures Price takes it from him.

Gaz: Arrived at the lake. She's upset and crying thinking we both got lost even with a map. It's kinda cute ngl. Any updates?

Price: Not yet. Should be soon. Keep her calm.

Gaz: 👍🏽

The phone rings not a second later which Price immediately picks up

Laswell: Nothing was found John. She's just a civvie from a religious family. Nothing to be worried about. It's a small town where she lives in doubt anyone would believe her if she said anything. There's a couple recent facebook posts from her parents shunning her. Claiming she ran away to join a city cult or something. And a bunch of older ones just insulting her for her choice in career. Apparently they wanted her to marry a youth pastor but she had rejected him and gone to college instead which upset them. They've been quiet since she began depositing majority of her paychecks into their accounts but a fight broke out recently when she told them she accepted a job offer in London. Her story checks out she wasn't lying. I do feel kinda bad for her though. It seemed like they had kicked her out. Poor girl probably has nowhere to go even when she makes it back into town.

Price thanks Laswell before hanging up. This…this changes everything…Soap and Ghost are on him instantly but he just holds his hand up as he texts Gaz a new plan of action.

Price: Bring her back by whatever means. We're keeping her… (message not sent)

Price tries several times to send the message but it doesn't work. A cold sweat runs down Price's forehead as he forces himself to stay calm for the sake of his lovers. As their captain in situations like these they were relying on him. Dread and panic sets into the other two as they scramble to their phones trying to call Gaz but it never connects. Immediately Price tells Ghost to track Gaz’s chipped necklace on the laptop after 10 minutes of calls not going through. Soap is pacing the room ready to bolt into the forest any second now as Ghost works frantically to get the screen to load up. Price waits patiently with his hands clenched. This was like that sedative incident all over again. The fear, the pain, the looming destruction of their pack, of his lovers was something he never wanted to face again. He had promised himself he wouldn't let it happen again. That he wouldn't allow them to be taken away from him. He was second away from calling Laswell screaming at her that her intel was wrong that they had got his boy. But the screen finally loads up. They stare at it shocked, not really comprehending what it was showing them. It showed Gaz's location right at the cabin but he couldn't get back in such a short time unless he was running in wolf form. They all ran to go check the treeline to see what was chasing him. There's no way that they think they'll go down without a fight.

They all burst out the cabin door, almost taking it off the hinges. Their body's heating, muscles bulging ready to tear their clothes right off them. But they stand there in shock as Gaz breaks through the treeline not fully in wolf form but not entirely human either. His eyes were glowing amber as heat radiated off his defined muscle. His clothes were ripped where his muscles bulged too much but he was cradling something close to his chest.

They ran, meeting him halfway as he shifted back slowly. He collapsed onto the grass as he called out for help. As they got closer they realised he was drenched and he was holding your unconscious body. You looked paler than before, the colour completely drained from your lips. Your clothes were soaked through and clinging to your body. Your jacket was missing too.

Price is on Gaz in an instant helping him get up as Ghost takes your unconscious form from him bolting inside as Soap goes to get Gaz a towel. Everything was frantic for the next few minutes. They didn't have time to ask questions, they just went off instinct as they moved around getting things ready for a warm bath.

Price brought Gaz to your room as Ghost began stripping you of your wet clothes. You weren't responsive and your body was very cold which concerned the men. They needed to get you warmed up as soon as possible.

“Soap get the bath ready!”, Ghost shouted over his shoulder as he tried his best not to ogle as he peeled your bagging clothes off your beautiful body. Ghost threw your wet clothes and panties to the side as he took your soft body into his arms, instructing Soap to go put them out to dry. Price begins stripping Gaz as they reach the bathroom. He seemed to be in need of a warm bath too. The poor lad looked shaken. He'll wait before asking questions. Once everything was in order Gaz settled into the tub waiting for Ghost to lower your body onto his. Ghost did so though a bit reluctantly. He didn't seem to want to let you go.

-

Before you lost consciousness all you felt was the prickle of cold water entering your lungs. You watched as the blue liquid engulfed your vision as you felt yourself sinking deeper into the depths of the lake. Your limbs had locked up the second you touched the water. The cold penetrating through your clothing, freezing your skin over. Your last breath comes out in strained bubbles as you try in a last ditch effort to call for help. Was this how you were going to die? Was this the end of everything? You hadn't even had your first kiss yet…you hadn't even begun to experience life. Sad thoughts run through your head as your vision began to blur.

-

Your eyes are forced awake by the feeling of your body being submerged in liquid fire. The smell of pine and mint wafts through the humid air making your head spin. You open your teary eyes to find yourself in a tub. You watch someone leave the bathroom as two strong arms wrapped around your naked body. They massage your waist, running fingers up your sternum between your breasts. You try moving your mouth but your muscles are tense and sore. You feel your head spin from the whiplash in temperatures you're experiencing. You watch as someone gently tilts your head back as they run their sudsy fingers through your hair alleviating some of the pain you're feeling. Price meets your eyes with a gentle smile as Gaz holds your body closer to his. You feel the hard muscles of his chest on your back, as well as his toned arms wrapping around you to keep you warm. You try moving your mouth again but your body feels like lead. You tried desperately to tell them not to touch you so casually. That you needed to go home but nothing came out of your mouth apart from gentle moans and whimpers. They just shush and coo at you as your eyes become heavy with fatigue again, not before catching the end of some conversation Soap was having.

“Put her in my clothes.. they'll fit her the best…no I don't know where her panties went…I swear I don't have the-…”

Then everything fades into black as you let the warm fingers massaging your head lull you to sleep.

-25/11/2023 03:00am

The cabin was dead quiet as you finally managed to peel your eyes awake from your exhaustion. You feel your head pounding. Everything felt fuzzy as if you were in a dream. The prickly pain from hunger was gnawing away at your stomach causing you to stir from your fever induced sleep. The only sounds you hear is of the wind blowing through the trees and of wolves howling. Wolves? There shouldn't be wolves in this forest. You don't think they're native to the area. It reminds you of the fever dream you had when Gaz had rescued you. He looked like a beast but that couldn't be true…right? You were probably hallucinating since too much lake water entered your system. Nothing felt real, nothing felt tangible. You weren't even sure you were alive anymore.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for. But your body felt like a dead weight. You feel like your limbs are tied down but you know they aren't. It's just extremely difficult to move with the burning fever raging through your body. You felt hot and sticky, wanting to get this thick duvet of your body to let the sweat dry.

It seems like your prayers are answered as you hear the front door open and some feet shuffling in. You'll have to ask the men for some help, it doesn't seem like you'd be able to move properly any time soon. Hopefully their truck was fixed so they could drop you back home tomorrow. You were supposed to be at work today, you didn't want to leave a bad impression before you left for London in two weeks time. Maybe this was all a dream and you'll wake up in your own bed after this nightmare ends.

You hear someone enter your room but it was too dark to see. You try saying something but your throat is bone dry and it just comes out in croaks. The person just shushes you as they peel the duvet gently off your body. You enjoy the cold air for a second. Letting it dry your clammy skin. What you don't enjoy is their hands starting to roam your body as they peel away the shirt you're wearing. You whine as you protest to the best of your ability but they don't stop. It's only when the light flicks on that your blurry vision clears after a second. Your eyes meet with Soap who's stripping you like he's done it before and has no problem seeing you naked. He smiles and coos at you while you try to get him to stop. When Ghost walks in with a basin and wash cloth his eyes are unreadable and then you understand why they're stripping you.

But you don't want them touching you, you're able to clean yourself you try to say but nothing comes out. Why did they feel so comfortable with touching you however they wanted? They weren't like this when you first met them. You were already upset by the fact they had put you in a tub with Gaz without your permission. They were taking their hospitality too far. You just wanted to go home. You hoped your parents weren't too mad at you. Maybe they've sent someone looking for you by now. The situation with these men was proving to be dangerous. You had a horrible feeling that they were stalling for time. They could have just dropped you into town if the truck was fixed, if not they could've called emergency services somehow. But wasn't like you have the energy to argue with them.

You can't do much as you're stripped bare. Tears cloud your vision as you beg them to stop in your hoarse voice but it comes out intelligible. You watch as they coo at you carefully wiping your tears and sweat away. Soap is sitting beside your head whispering reassuring words as you cry from the humiliation of watching Ghost run the warm wet cloth over your underarms, body and mound. Making sure to pay extra attention to your folds as he cleans in between them. You squirm as you cry louder making your already hoarse voice worse.

“Come on hen.. thare’s nae need to cry like that..we just want tae help ye.” Soap wipes your tears away as he nuzzles into your neck while Ghost dries you. You watch as Ghost takes off the hoodie he's wearing to put on your naked body. The smell of his aftershave hits you instantly as he gathers you in his arms while carrying you towards the bathroom. You stop crying seeing no point in tiring yourself out but the sniffles are hard to control. Why were they doing this to you? He places you on the toilet, making sure to gather the hoodie above your waist so you don't end up soiling it. This is by far the most humiliating situation you've ever been in your life. You bend over trying to hide you private parts from their view. Yes you needed to pee but they could at least leave you so you could do your business. They didn't seem to take the hint even with you glaring at them.

But Soap took your slumping figure as indication of your fatigue and decided he'll help you sit straight while you do you business. You claw at his arms with your full strength not that you had much but you definitely left marks as you hear him hiss. He didn't seem angry though and Ghost just watched intensely as you tried to hold in your pee.

“It ok hen..just do your business we'll clean ye after…nae need tae worry…”

“You need to hurry love…the food will get cold if you keep refusing to pee…I know you don't like it here…we'll take you home once you're feeling better…”, Tears slip past your waterline again as you do as your told not being able to hold your bladder any longer. Your cheeks heat from mortification rather than your fever, as the two men encourage you while Ghost goes to grab some tissue and water to wipe you clean. God please let this be a dream…a very very bad dream.

-25/11/2023 08:00pm

When you awake this time it's to throw up again. It's dark still you don't if you've be asleep for a couple minutes or for many hours. It seems like you can't catch the sun anymore. You didn't like the dark. It made everything feel oppressive and sinister. You don't know what's wrong but any food smell causes your stomach to churn. And the second the smell of meat came through your door you were fighting to keep the bile at bay. You get up on shaky legs to go to the bathroom to throw up. Your stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out. When was the last time you ate? There’s only a chalky residue left on your tongue probably from the medication they gave you. But when did they give it to you? You can't remember anything. Your memories and nightmares were starting to blur together making everything feel like a drug induced hallucination.

Your muscles were sore and you weren't able to stay steady on your feet without the help from the wall as you walked along. You look down to find your clothes have changed again. Maybe you've just been hallucinating the bad encounters you've been having.

There's no way they would watch you pee or force you to take a bath with them right? Or constantly strip you to wipe away sweat right? You think you might have thrown up in your crying fits but you can't remember much. Yeah it was probably just an awful dream. There's no way they would have dealt with your tantrums and or cleaned up the mess you made. Men aren't like that. Your father certainly isn't. He never took care of your mother when she was sick. It was always you or your siblings. They probably just changed you and left you to rest with some painkillers. Even doing that was more than what most men would do so you should be thankful they were looking after you. But you wished they'd just get you home somehow. It must be some strong painkillers you can't seem to remember anything in too much detail. Like everything was blurring into one colour. You needed to cleanse your system before you pass out again.

You just about make it to the toilet bowl as your insides decide they don't want to stay inside anymore. Your stomach muscles strain and tense as your body tries to dispel the drugs you've been fed recently. The bitter taste of bile and something else was sour on your tongue. You don't even have a proper recollection of what happened in the last two days…

You feel a warm hand brush your hair out of your face as you continue to throw up. An odd feeling filled your chest… you were never taken care off like this before..It caused something warm to stir in your heart. Your head was still fuzzy so you didn't register someone holding water to your lips when you're done. It's like you're on autopilot. One second you're rinsing your mouth the next you're in bed with Gaz who's cradling your head to his chest. He coos and shushing you as he feeds you little pieces of bread with butter…At least it wasn't meat…your sure you'd throw up again if it was…

Your hazy vision catches sight of your clothing again. When did they change you? Were you hallucinating again? You silently eat your bread, not having the energy to argue anymore. Some sustenance was nice after everything that happened. It’s when the glass of water touches your lips you're met with a familiar chalky taste that makes you realise maybe you aren't hallucinating after all. But you don't get much time to dwell on it before sleep takes you.

-26/11/2023 12:00pm

For the first time in what feels like forever you see sunlight streaming through the curtains in the room. Your head felt too heavy and too light at the same time. Like you're fighting to keep your head up right but also felt like it was about to float away. Your head loses its battle as you stop trying to sit up. It was too much effort to try to move anymore and you needed to pee again…great…

You hear hushed sounds coming from outside the door just as you're about to call out for help. You try to make out words but your head's disoriented and your bladder is demanding your attention.

“There wa…search party se-…-ey found her jacket…unwanted attention….we need tae lea-…” you don't understand what they're saying but you try listening again but it's just a jumble of accents.

“...…the news rep-.... proclaimed drown-....no body fou-...-ght she's a spy…”, Spy? They thought you were a spy? Why would they think that?

“...we're taking her with us…”, your mind jolts when you hear those words. ‘We're taking her with us’…They were never going to let you go were they? Fear seeps into every fiber of your being. The fact you were drugged and unable to move was even worse. What were they going to do with you? Murder you? Torture you? Sell you off?

A sob leaves your mouth before you can stop it and the hushed voices come to abrupt stop. You hold your breath trying to keep yourself from crying, not wanting them to become suspicious of you. Soap is the first to walk in his eyes scanning the room before his eyes land on your weakened state. His eyes soften ever so slightly but he seemed on edge.

“What's wrong pretty girl…what do ye need?”, your mind races to come up with an excuse so it doesn't seem like you were crying because you heard them.

“B-bathroom”, you whisper through your tears. That seems to release the tension in his shoulders as he come to pick you up to take you to the toilet. When you pass the other men they give you gentle smiles as Soap helps you with your business. They make themselves scarce giving you some privacy. You didn't trust their gentle smiles. You knew what you heard, you weren't going to gaslight yourself into thinking these men had your best interest at heart. You needed to leave!

You watch as Soap cleans you, his arms were covered in claw marks more than likely your doing. He had a tendency to get too handy when ‘helping’. He seemed to be learning though since he cleans you quickly this time around. You still weren't happy about all the touching and cuddling you feel at night though. But at least you're knocked out for the majority of it. You didn't know how you were going to escape, you barely had any energy to support yourself. Just standing for a few minutes took all your energy out of you. Soap carries you back gently. You needed to get food in you if you planned on running away. It was best if you acted like nothing had changed. Like you were expecting them to drop you off home soon. Just until you figure out how you'd escape their clutches that is. You catch Soap arms just as he's about to leave after tucking you in.

“Food?”

“Awe bunny are ye hungry?”, you just give him a nod with pouty lips, hoping to gather some sympathy from him.

“Lunch isn't ready yet. Ah’ll get ye something tae munch on ok?” You give him a gentle smile as he leaves. You'll have to use your charm to get him to take you out for some fresh air tomorrow. It's the only chance at escape you'll get. God why did it have to be you? All you ever wanted was to work in the city. Was that so bad? Maybe if you were a better daughter things wouldn't have ended this way. Maybe if you didn't run out on your parents you wouldn't have gotten lost in the forest. Maybe if you had married that pastor you wouldn't be in this situation. But now wasn't the time to think God had forsaken you…You needed all the help you could get.

-29/11/2023 09:00am

“Bunny please eat something…you haven't touched your food since we brought you home…”, You weren't going to either, you were tired of getting drugged. God knows what they do to you when you're passed out.

“Luv come now…he even made your favourite breakfast…everything we do is because we care for you..”, Price chimes on his way to install bolted locks to some of the doors.

“I understand yer mad hen but we just wanna take care of ye…ye'll get used tae living here.. promise”, you give Soap a particularly nasty look as he follows Price to do some renovations. They were in a hurry since they had to leave soon.

You glare at Gaz like he's the source of all your misfortune. Like he's the reason everything has gone wrong in your life. You can't believe you ever found this man sweet or charming. You're tucked into the furthest corner of the sofa you could find with a cushion clutched to your chest for protection. It was one of those nice expensive ones too. God you hated these deranged rich bastards. Everything in this home felt like it was high quality. You wanted to kick yourself because all you could think about was all the nice pictures you could take…if you had your camera that is. It was the first nice camera you bought. You had worked so hard to save up for only for it to be drowned like your hopes and dreams.

You didn't like the fact the place was so warm and homey. For some deranged kidnappers you were expecting someplace easier to hate, somewhere that didn't have so much love and character put into the design aspect of the home.

When you had first woken up you found yourself in a very large bed surrounded by them in what you later found out to be Price's room. You hadn't realised they were in that kind of relationship. You didn't understand what they wanted from you. They reassured you they knew you weren't a spy and that they definitely weren't going murder or hurt you for information. Why did they take you then?

They all had large rooms with large beds to accommodate them all. All uniquely decorated to fit everyone's vastly different aesthetic. They tried convincing you to sleep in one of their beds last night but you insisted on the sofa. You all slept in the living room last night with some on the sofas and others on a large mattress on the floor. You can't believe they bothered to carry that huge thing just so they could sleep near you. You'd find it endearing if you weren't literally trying to escape your kidnappers.

They tried claiming the guest room needed to be renovated. That they'd make a comfortable space here for you. That they'd decorate however you like once they get back home from their new mission. Had they gone insane? What made them think you were upset about a damn room rather than the fact they had KIDNAPPED you. What made them think you'd be ok being kept against your will?

You had tried asking if it was because you found out their secret. You begged and promised that you wouldn't tell a living soul but they just chuckled saying they fell in love with you and just wanted to take care of you. They really were insane…You're stuck with a bunch of lunatics. You wished you had realised that sooner. Maybe you'd be safe at home by now or possibly packing for your move to London. God why you…

You wish they would just leave so you could try to escape or call for help. It wasn't going to be easy. The house was like a fortress. Heavily equipped with cameras and an advanced locking system. But you just needed to bide your time. You weren't going let someone else dictate your life anymore. You worked too hard to get here. You were sick of being a pushover. You're sure your parents would have declared you a missing person by now. Yeah everything will work out, you'll be home in no time. You'll figure out a way to get home. You continue to ignore Gaz as you watch the men with keen eyes while they carry tools and such to ‘your’ room. They must think you're an idiot if they believe they'll get the chance to lock you in that room without a fight…

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[glossysoap]

crescents in his skin ; soap mactavish. 1 of 3

or alternatively titled, ‘moronic wolfy claim’. the prequel to my new werewolf soap mini fic.

summary: you and soap were inseparable, usually. at least until a few months ago when he got injured on a mission. ever since then, he hasn’t been able to even be in your vicinity. maybe it has something to do with his newfound strength. or the way you could swear his eyes shone amber when he was angry.

tags: pov shifting but it’s easy to tell which pov is which don’t worry, future werewolf soap - he hasn’t been turned yet, fem reader, smut, cum play, minor degradation, major praise kink, boot riding, perv soap, best friends to mates lovers, possessive soap, perv soap, yearning, misunderstanding, perv soap, not actually unrequited love. did i mention perv soap?

notes: gaelic is in bolded italics, english translation is right after it in non bolded italics. other than that, fantasies are in italics (though it’s easy to tell either way).

word count: 7,800

If anyone had to pick a word that describes you and Soap, it would be inseparable.

Always attached at the hip. Talking each others ear off, even about the most mundane of things. The two of you would always be seen laughing with each other, your eyes bright and crinkled at the edges as he whispers some cheeky joke into your ear.

Everything that he showed towards everyone else, was amplified ten fold for you.

He would always be touching you in some way. Whether it was on your shoulders, on the small of your back, or enveloping your smaller hand in his — his warm hands would always be on you in some way.

Of course, he was touchy with everyone. It was in his nature. He would clap a hand on Ghost’s shoulder when walking up behind him, or pulling him into a hug after a close call.

All of that was nothing compared to how he was with you.

If you were shivering, you wouldn’t even be able to grab your own jacket before he was taking his own coat off and wrapping it around you. You would feel your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze as he adjusts the collar of the coat, his thumbs grazing the skin of your jaw.

Whenever you were riding along with the task force in the Hum-vee, he would always choose the seat right next to you. If the vehicle came to hard stop, his muscular arm would dart out in front of you to shield you. Your eyes would widen as you looked down at his arm pressed against your stomach, keeping you safe in your seat.

Every sentence that dropped from his mouth and hit your ears was always accompanied by a pet name. Not a platonic one like ‘lad’ or ‘brother’ that he reserved for Ghost or Gaz, far from it.

The pet names he had reserved for you were far less platonic and far more.. romantic.

Nearly every pet name would be murmured against your skin, whether it be his lips against your forehead or on your cheek. Or against your ear as he whispers, “Ye’ did great on that mission, bonnie.” Always followed up by a kiss on the cheek.

“Ye’ alright, darlin’?” He would ask you after a close call, cupping your cheeks and eyes scanning your face for any scrapes or cuts. His big calloused hands holding your face so tenderly made you feel safer than any bulletproof vest ever could.

“Yer shiverin’ love! Here, take my jacket.” He would almost order, leaving no room for protest as he was already shedding his own tactical coat and draping it over your shoulders. Your mouth would be open, about to assure him that you were alright when he adjusted the collar of the jacket. Letting his thumbs graze your neck and jaw as he adjusted the fabric, eyes scanning your face from pure instinct. His cerulean eyes would be burning into your face, committing every detail to memory. How your eyes were widened in a mix of shock and nerves, your brows raised. How you bit your lip when you were focusing on something, and how that always made him yearn to take your lip between his teeth and nip at it.

Bonnie. Darling. Love. Those nicknames were specifically reserved for you and you only. Far from platonic.

Any one of your features would send him spiraling — making his heart pound, and his jeans tighten with a familiar tent.

Your eyes.

The way they would automatically search for him when you entered a room, always instinctively searching him out. The way your lips would quirk up at the corners in a shy smile when your eyes find him.

Good pup, he would think.

It’s almost like your brain already knows you belong with him, friendly boundaries be damned.

The way your eyes peer up at him, all wide and innocent. Always giving him your full attention, treating him with a tunnel vision of sorts as you waited for any order or call.

A single look at your eyes would send his mind into various fantasies of you, in various positions and situations.

You occupied every inch of space in his mind, at any given moment.

Just like you did right now, while he was working out in the gym on base.

His mind was flooded with images of you in compromising positions and conjured up fantasies as he began training.

He imagines your eyes all glossed over with tears, pupils blown wide with lust. Images would flood his brain of the two of you camped out in the Hum-vee, shrouded in the dark of a stakeout. Mission objective already long forgotten.

He imagines you sitting in the backseat with him, with your pants pulled down to your knees and your legs spread open. Your shirt slipped up to reveal your stomach. His tan arm snaking down your abdomen, warm and hairy against your cool skin. You could see every intricate detail of his tattoo on his forearm as his hand slipped beneath your panties. You could only stare down at his descending hand and gasp as he grazed along your wet slit with his forefinger. You could hear him laugh next to you, sporting a cocky grin at how quickly you were already soaked. Only a few moments passed before he slipped his middle and ring finger inside your wet cunt with a quiet squelch, making your breath hitch at the intrusion. It didn’t take long before he had pushed his fingers all the way past the knuckle and to the hilt. The two thick digits spreading you open and filling you so deep.

“Mmm, so tight, bonnie.” He murmurs into your ear, moving his mouth to suck along the span of your neck.

“Soap, oh my god!” The feeling of his tongue licking a stripe up your neck, him leaving messy open mouthed kisses along your skin, mixed with his fingers pumping in your wet cunt at a furious pace left you so overstimulated. You didn’t know where to look, what to say. Where to put your hands. You could only jerk your hips against his hand and let out almost incoherent babbles.

Your head is thrown back against the headrest, face all scrunched up in pleasure and mouth open in breathy moans. His mouth is pulled into a self indulgent smirk against your neck as he watched your body writhe in pleasure with each pump and thrust of his fingers.

He could just imagine your legs twitching and your hips bucking against his fingers, your juices soaking his hand. He could imagine the warm, wet feeling of your cunt squeezing around his fingers as he pumped them in and out at a furious pace. He could practically hear your panting and whines echo through the Hum-vee, paired with squelching from your soaked cunt as his fingers pulled out and pushed back in.

“Soap,” he could imagine you moaning his name, looking up at him with glossy eyes as tears pricked at your lash line. Your hands searching for purchase desperately, trying to grab at the leather seat underneath you but to no avail. “Please.”

In his head, in the fucked up fantasy he had conjured up, he loved the sight so much that he slipped a third finger past your entrance and worked it in along side the other two. Grinning wickedly when he sees your mouth fall open, chest heaving as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“No, no, no. No ‘Soap’. No ‘Sergeant’. None o’ that. Just ‘Johnny’.” His fingers quicken, and his smile grows at your widening eyes.

“Say it. Say my name while ye’ cream around my fingers.” He imagined himself all but growling in your ear as he looked at your squirming figure, twitching uncontrollably from the pleasure.

He saw you bite your lip to silence your moans and he thought, not a chance. “Say. It.” He ground out, voice full of gravel. To drive that point home, he curled his fingers just so. Hitting that spot that made your toes curl and that knot in your stomach tighten. He pairs it perfectly with a hard bite in the crook of your neck, teeth digging in to leave a bruising reminder of who you belonged to.

“Ah! I found that spot, didn’t I, pup? This spot, right here.” He smirks, so self satisfied when he sees your mouth drop open and your hips buck.

Your eyes would drop to his arm that was snaked down your stomach, his muscles tensing and flexing as he worked his fingers inside your pussy. Then you would link your arms with his arm, grounding yourself in reality as he drove you closer and closer to the first orgasm of many.

Just imagining you moaning his name is enough to make him hard.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny!” You would babble his name mindlessly, your hips bucking against his fingers and your legs twitching. “Yeah, there ye’ go.” He would hum in approval against your ear, the sound from deep in his chest as you squirt against his hand. Drenching his fingers and palm, the fluid dripping onto the leather beneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you came down from your high, your heart racing in your chest. You were still shaking and spent, clinging to his arm as he used his free hand to reach between your thighs. Your legs would twitch and jerk away from his touch, overwhelmingly sensitive after cumming all over his hand only moments prior. He shushed you gently, his lips murmuring all warm and rumbling against your ear to calm you down. He used two fingers to sweep along the slippery leather, gathering your juices and coating his fingers with the slick. You cracked your eyes open long enough to see him bringing his coated fingers up to his lips, his cerulean eyes still staring at you. Your half lidded eyes widened as you watched his tongue dart out to lick your juices off of his fingers, popping them in his mouth and sucking them clean with a pop each time.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, knew ye’ would. My sweet girl.” Without giving you a moment of reprieve, he grabs your throat with that same hand he just licked and pulls your face close to his. He applies the slightest bit of pressure to your windpipe, not enough to cut off your airway but just enough to make you deliciously dizzy. You could feel his breath fan against your lips from how close he was, you could smell the traces of bourbon from his mouth.

He all but smashes his lips against yours and kissing you fervently, all messy and sloppy. You yelp against his mouth, the sound quickly turning into a pathetic whine that he swallows. He nips and bites at your lip, pulling just a fraction — enough to tease you. Enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips and force you to taste yourself on him, letting his tongue mingle with yours.

Then the image in his head shifted from the inside of the Hum-vee, to the two of you in his quarters. With you on your knees in front of him.

He saw you on your knees, staring up at him through your lashes as you worshipped his cock. Kneeling in front of him, sitting between his spread legs as his jeans were pulled down just enough to free his erection. While one had was stroking him, your other hand would be laid on his bare thigh, feeling the scratch of his body hair against your soft skin. One hand would be rested on your head, petting your hair while his other hand would be cupping your cheek. His thumb stroking at the soft skin of your face, his eyes staring into yours.

“Look so fuckin’ good like that on yer knees for me.”

He could imagine your shaky hands reach for his hard cock that was resting against his stomach, your eyes glazed over and pupils dilated with anticipation. He could imagine your small, almost inaudible gasp when you finally take him in your hand, feeling how hard and hot his shaft is. How it’s pulsing under your touch, desperate for you to start stroking. He could imagine his own breath hitching as your hand finally moved up and down his uncut length. He could imagine your own breathing grow heavier as you watched your hand pump his cock, twisting near the head and squeezing a bit when you reach the base. Your hand would move on autopilot, as if it was made for his cock. Made for him.

You were made for him.

“Sittin’ all pretty just for me, hm? Isn’t that right, doll?” He would murmur with a possessive lilt to his voice, lips curved into a smirk as his eyes peered down into yours. You could only nod, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“C’mon, open yer mouth for me. There ye’ go.”

He imagined your tongue sticking out, letting him hit the head of his cock on your tongue with little taps. He imagined you shyly licking the tip, taking tentative laps along the sensitive skin. He imagined your tongue darting out to trace along the vein that ran underneath his shaft, feeling your hands move to wrap around the base of his cock.

“Fuck, good fuckin’ pup.”

He imagined your plump, shiny lips wrapped around his cock as you finally started sucking. He imagined your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears rimming your lash line, eyes glossing over. He imagined your muffled whimpers around his cock as you bobbed your head up and down. His hand would be fisted in your hair and he would be controlling the pace, using your hair as a handle as he fucked your throat.

He could imagine tear tracks running down your cheeks and drool dribbling down your chin as you kept taking him all the way down to the base of his cock. He could imagine the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, feeling you swallow around him and sending waves of pleasure into his core.

“So fuckin’ perfect like this, doll. Taking my cock so well, like a good fuckin’ girl. Always so good for me.”

You would preen around his cock, glossy eyes crinkling at the edges as you smiled from the praise. Even though your vision was blurred from the tears welling up, just hearing his gravelly voice shower you with compliments was enough.

He could imagine you grinding your cunt against his boot while you sucked his cock. He could almost hear your muffled whines and feel your moans sending vibrations to his core. Tear tracks would be running down your cheeks as you kept taking him all the way to the hilt, your nose brushing against the brown tuft of hair at the base. Spit would be dribbling down your chin and down your neck.

“So pathetic. Humping on my boot like a damn dog, so fuckin’ greedy.”

You would whine around his length at his degrading words, but your stomach grew tighter nonetheless. Your pussy squeezed around nothing as you ground down desperately against his boot, just aching to be filled. Your hips would be rocking against his boot, feeling that warmth build up in your stomach with each pass of your cunt against the leather.

“Look at you, already makin’ such a mess on the floor with how wet you are.” He would mock you. “Well, go on then. Fuck yourself on my boot. Cum like the desperate slut you are.”

He can just imagine your muffled cries and eyes squeezed shut as you come apart on his boot, drenching the leather with your juices.

Then the scene in his mind transforms from you on your knees, to the inside of the bases shower room.

Skin slapping against skin would echo throughout the tiled room along with the sound of the running showers. Broken moans and whimpers falling from your kiss-swollen lips, grunts and curses pouring from Johnny’s.

He would have you bent over the sink, his naked body pressed up against yours as he ruts into you. The only thing holding you steady were your elbows planted on the counter as he plowed into your slippery cunt, his big hands gripping your hips enough to leave a handprint in his wake.

“Feel good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” He could imagine you babbling mindlessly.

“Aww, ye’, I know.” He would croon almost cruelly in that sickly sweet tone of his.

He imagines tears running down your cheeks as he takes you from behind, his cock buried deep in your cunt. Whines and grunts echoed in his mind, along with the sounds of rough slapping skin against skin. Wet sounds mixed in with the cacophony of noises as his cock plunged back inside your soaked pussy with each thrust of his hips.

“So fuckin’ tight for me, pet.”

Mirrors were on the wall across from the two of you, leaving your reflection on full display for him to drink in as he fucked you.

While his mind was filled with these conjured up images of you stark bare and taking his cock, he took this opportunity to imagine what you would actually look like naked. What your body would look like under all of those layers of scrubs or civilian clothes, sometimes even military gear.

The only glimpse at your figure he had to go off of was from a Special Forces fundraiser gala, where you were wearing a beautiful gown. It was a black, off the shoulder dress with a plunging neckline and a slit running up the thigh. Not hitting too high, just hitting mid way up your thigh — just enough to tease Soap with a sliver of leg. Enough to give him a glimpse of a black lace garter hugging your thigh.

“So beautiful. Such a pretty fuckin’ girl.”

So, as his brain painted that picture of the two of you in the shower room, his brain also filled in the blanks with what your body might look like.

He imagines staring into your reflection in the mirror, and seeing your breasts bounce with each thrust, skin shining with sweat and nipples hardened from arousal. He imagines the buds swollen and sore from being sucked and nipped on. He imagines stripes of wetness decorating your breasts from his tongue tasting your skin, dipping between the valley of your tits. He imagines mouth shaped marks and indentations littering your skin, all from his mouth claiming you as his.

For a split second, he even imagines how ropes of his cum would look splattered across your tits.

“Only like this for me, isn’t that right?”

He imagines your chest heaving as you pant and gasp with pleasure, especially when your breath hitches from a particularly hard thrust. He imagines your pulse thrumming hard under your skin, heart racing and pounding in your ears.

He imagines how your ass would feel as he gripped it in his big hands, the soft skin being such a harsh contrast against his rough, calloused palms. He imagines how your flesh would ripple with each thrust, or how it would jiggle when his palm would come down in a swift spank across your ass. He could practically hear your yelp as handprint welts formed on your skin.

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long.”

He imagines your thighs rubbing up against his as he’s rutting into your hot cunt, grunting with every thrust in and every pull out and every thrust back in. He imagines how shaky your legs would be from all of his ministrations and the onslaught of ecstasy he put you through. He imagines your cunt squeezing his cock so tight, almost pushing him out with how tight you were clenching down on him. Fuck, you were all warm and wet and spongey. He imagines your juices mixing with his and dripping down your thighs.

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. Just soakin’ my cock. Knew ye’ wanted me. Just like I’ve wanted ye’.”

Finally, he imagines your face while he fucks you against the mirror. He imagines how your expression would shift and contort in pure ecstasy, your brows all furrowed and eyes clenched shut. Your mouth hanging open in a gasp and your tongue lolling out as his cock reaches that sensitive spot over and over.

It was the perfect image. You losing yourself impaled on his cock, cunt squeezing him perfectly as you came closer and closer to the edge. Him buried deep inside you, impossibly close to you in ways he’d always imagined.

It was perfect in every way, except for one. Your eyes were closed. You couldn’t see your reflection in the mirror in front of you, you couldn’t see yourself coming apart for him and only him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

“No, no, no. Not a fuckin’ chance.”

With that, he leans down and reaches to grips your jaw. He relishes in seeing your eyes flash open in shock, enjoying the cute little yelp fall from your lips as he snakes his muscular arm around your chest. He uses the vice-like hold on your jaw to pull you up until you were flush against his chest. Your hand darted up to hold his wrist as he held your jaw, your other hand grasping at his arm that was wrapped around your chest. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving white crescent marks against his tan flesh as you searched for purchase — anything to ground you in reality.

“You’re gonnae keep those eyes open. You’re gonnae watch yourself cum on my cock.” He growls into your ear, his free hand snaking across your chest while his other hand was still gripping your jaw. “Oh, fuck—,” You would cry out at the new, closer angle he was thrusting into you with. The hand that was splayed across your chest groped your breast, his rough skin burning at your flesh and his fingers tweaking at your nipple.

“Yeah, ye’ feel that? Feel me splitting you open?” Would be ground out into your ear, the husky timbre of his voice sending chills down your spine.

His hips would snap up into you, his cock hitting you even deeper and making you feel impossibly fuller with each thrust. Your eyes would roll with each cruel snap of his hips, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Oh, fuuuck.” You cry out, legs feeling more like jelly with each passing second. You knew if his strong arms weren’t holding you so tight, you would’ve melted in a puddle on the tile beneath you. “Johnny!”

You could feel him smirk against your cheek.

“That’s it, tell everyone who’s makin’ ye’ feel so good. Tell everyone who ye’ belong to.” The hand on your jaw would make you face the mirror in front of you.

You would open your eyes to see yourself in the reflection, all manhandled by your best friend while his thick cock pistoned in and out of your slick cunt. His big hand would have a firm grip on your jaw as he controlled where you looked, forcing you to look at yourself while getting orgasms forced out of you. His other hand would be snaked around your chest, muscular arm flexing as he palmed your breast. Both of you would be covered in a sheen of sweat and tears would be running down your cheeks from all of the pleasure building up.

“Johnny, please!” You would all but shout, looking at him through the reflection with blurry eyes. You didn’t know what you were begging for. A moment of reprieve, maybe? One last push to shove you over the edge? You weren’t sure.

“Please, what? Hm? Use yer words.”

“Please make me cum! Please, please, please— oh, fuck!” Your begging would be cut off by your own moan as the hand that was on your chest moved down to rub circles over your swollen clit.

He would only laugh as you squirted on his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth.

He would be pulled, yanked out of his perverted fantasies by the loud crash of a weight hitting the matted gym floor. A lower ranking soldier had finished with their sets and let the weight fall to the floor without any regard for the Sergeants eardrums.

Soap just shook his head and moved to leave the gym, in an attempt to rid himself of the images that were sure to get him painfully hard.

After he cleaned the machines he used, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed his thermos.

Soap walked out of the base gym after a hard training, his tan skin all flushed and sweaty. Mohawk all messy and some strands sticking to his forehead. He wore a white wife beater and grey sweatpants, and he held a thermos filled with ice water at his side.

He willed his mind to drift away from the images that made his cock hard, and instead forced himself to think about things that made his heart race. After he left the gym and let the heavy doors close behind him, his mind immediately thought of one thing that fit that description.

You.

You and your annoyed expression that you would wear whenever he shooes away yet another date, usually by slinging his arm over your shoulder and drawling in your ear, “Who’s this, babe?”

The annoyed expression always featured a clenched jaw and your perfect lips downturned into a frown, paired with an eye roll that could rival the Lieutenants.

You also wore that annoyed expression when receiving unwanted attention from other guys. Which is what was about to happen in a few moments.

His heart pounds in his ears as he comes down from his workout, still panting a bit as he uncapped his thermos. He leans against the wall as he raises his thermos to his lips, gulping down the ice water greedily. As he tilts his head back and drinks, his eyes spot a familiar figure behind his raised thermos.

You. You were walking the halls of the base with a stack of files folded under your arm, presumably to deliver to Price’s office.

He makes a surprised noise, swallowing whatever water was in his mouth and quickly screwing the cap back on to his thermos.

With a grin painted on his lips, he breaks into a jog towards you. He couldn’t wait to talk to you, be near you, especially since he was about to ship off for a long deployment the next day.

Once he caught up to you, his grin quickly dissolves into a frown as he sees someone already talking to you. A guy.

The guy was dressed in some run-of-the-mill camouflage that was fit for some random soldier. Not a uniform for an established officer or for someone with a respected ranking. Just some mediocre boy.

Which is exactly what Soap saw when he looked at the guy. Mediocre. No talent. No direction. No drive.

Cerulean eyes skimmed the soldier with a displeased expression. He was wearing an intimidated expression, his eyes were wide as he looked at the Sergeant. His eyes scanning the soldiers wrinkled uniform and crooked patch, already finding uniform violation after violation. Then he scrutinized what was under the piss poor uniform, the lads muscles. Or lack thereof.

The soldier was wiry, to say the least. Barely an ounce of muscle or fat on his bones. There was no way he would make it past basic training, let alone be able to build an actual military career.

There was also no way that boy could ever please you. Not like Soap could, anyway. No one could ever please you like Soap could.

Soap gave him a final once over before chuckling. He could break that man, that boy, in half in five seconds flat.

“That bloke? Really?” He scoffs as he sees you entertaining the recruit. His usually bright eyes are scanning that boy up and down, with furrowed brows and a tight lip. Looking at the recruit with what could only be described as disgust.

“Isn’t even a cadet.” Soap mutters under his breath as he stands next to you, watching the man scurry away with his tail between his legs. You roll your eyes and groan because this is what feels like the millionth man he’s run off.

“Never gonna get laid at this rate.” You mutter under your breath before storming off, not even giving Soap a passing glance as you bumped into his shoulder.

He felt a fire ignite deep in his core at your words. His eyes brightened and he grinned as he broke into a jog after your retreating figure.

“Mmm,” He hums, a rumble coming deep from his throat. Almost a growl. “Never say never, brèagha.” Pretty. Soap called, wearing a boyish grin as he caught up with you in the hallway. “You know where to find me.”

All you had to do was say the word and he would come running, giving you orgasm after orgasm. Making your legs twitch and your toes curl, making your nails dig into his back and leave scratches along the skin.

He longed to feel that sting rip across his back as your nails dug in, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of your claim on him.

Because he did belong to you, even if you didn’t know it. Body and soul.

You just kept walking, though. Barely even registering what he said. You heaved a sigh and spared him a side eye glance.

“Oh my god, you’re so funny.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm at his teasing, because of course he was kidding. Right?

You were painfully oblivious to his affections towards you, because that’s just how he always was. He always joked like that, especially towards you. Always putting on that boyish charm and acting flirty, buttering you up with compliments and leaving hot fleeting touches against your skin.

You kept your eyes ahead of you, not daring to look at Soap or his damn tank top that showed off his muscles so well. The muscles that were so solid and thick, littered with tan scars that took nothing away from his beauty. If anything, they just added to it. They showed how strong he was. How sturdy he was. All of the many wounds earned and injuries endured, scars left in place as a reminder of where he’s been. What he’s survived.

You also didn’t want to risk a glance at his hands. The rough calloused skin that was always oh so warm, veins prominent as blood pumped through his body. Just a single glance at his muscles or hands would no doubt send you down a spiral of heart racing thoughts, thoughts that would have you squeezing your thighs together.

At the very least, you wanted to hold those thoughts off until you were in the privacy of your quarters. The security provided by the four walls would let you get rid of that.. tension.

“And what does that word even mean anyway? You know I don’t understand gaelic.” You muttered, sparing a quick glance at his hulking figure as he walked next to you. Just before you looked away from him once more, you caught a glimpse of a smile tugging at his lips.

Even as you brushed off his genuine offer as just a joke, his wolfish grin just remained. Still teetering the line between a smirk and a smile.

“Ah, now why would I go and tell ye’ that? That just sucks all the fun out of it, hen.” He would tease, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty!” You cringed and tried to slip out of his hold but he was just too strong, keeping you trapped against his warm skin. You forced yourself to think that your heartbeat racing was only a result of surprise, not from being in such close proximity to his hulking form. It definitely wasn’t a result of feeling the intense heat rolling off of him in waves, or the musk you couldn’t help but take a whiff of. And it definitely wasn’t due to his big arm weighing so heavily on your shoulders, almost like staking a claim on you.

He only laughed at your struggle, the sound making your stomach flutter even if you were annoyed.

As you continued walking down the hallway with him glued to your side, you went back to avoiding eye contact with him. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he drank in all of your features. That damn smirk never left his lips, matter how annoyed you were or how that scowl was damn near engraved on your perfect lips.

No matter how much you complained or pouted, always because of his overbearing nature and his dedication to batting men away from you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips.

He loved the way you pressed them together, especially when you were focused on a particularly rough stitch, poking the needle through bloodied flesh. Exactly like all of the times you had to patch him up after bullets scraped his flesh, or found themselves imbedded in his muscle. He could feel his heart threaten to beat out of his chest at the mere thought of your hands on his bare skin, sewing the wounds shut.

He loved the way you bit your lip, taking your bottom lip between your teeth nervously when you worried about something. How your brows would furrow and your eyes would widen a fraction whenever you saw him returning injured from a mission. He would always feel his chest fill with warmth, no matter how deep the bullet had buried itself in him, when he sees your worried face hovering over him on the gurney.

He loved the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way. Or, more accurately, when he would insert himself in any situation that involved you and another man. He can’t help it.

Not when you’re jutting your bottom lip out like that, looking up at your best friend with sad eyes after he kicks yet another man to the curb. You can’t blame him for doing that either, he thinks. Not when it’s so glaringly obvious that none of those men could take care of you. None of them could please you, make you feel good. Make you feel safe.

Before he knew it, the two of you had made it to the elevator that you had to take to get to Price’s office. You needed to get on so you lifted his heavy arm off of your shoulders and stepped away from him. “Are you even listening? Hello?” Your voice cut in, making him blink a few times. You were looking at him with furrowed brows as if you were appraising him. Searching to find some reason for his strange behavior.

“Sorry, what?” He grinned sheepishly and felt his face heat up in a blush, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

You eyed him warily.

“I said, would you mind running back to my quarters to grab my headphones? I forgot them and I need them to work out. I would go and them myself but I need to get these files to Price like.. now.” You waved the files a bit to emphasize your point. “If I go all the way across base to get them myself, there’s no way I’ll be able to get these to Price in time. And if I get them after giving these to Price, the gym will be closed.” You dug through your pockets to find your key card.

“Yer lucky yer cute.” Soap said, enjoying the flustered look on your face as he snatches your key card from your hand. Then he turns on his heel, jogging in the direction of your quarters.

Which is how he ended up here, swiping your key card against the doorknob and waiting for your door to unlock.

As he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, he felt a strange sense of excitement flood his stomach.

Of course he had been in your room before, but you had always accompanied him. Now, he was all alone. He could look at any of your pictures if he wanted. He could touch any of your belongings without worrying about you catching him.

He couldn’t help how his eyes wondered around the room, taking in every detail of the room you inhabited.

Your familiar scent hit his nose the second he stepped foot in your room. Vanilla and cinnamon, with a hint of freshness and fruit notes. Like a bakery in Autumn, filled with baked apple pie while the leaves outside were turning orange.

The smell was so soothing, so familiar. He smelled it almost every time he brought you into a bear hug and nestled his head in your neck.

The smell was home.

The next thing he noticed were the decorations you had adorned your room with. Among the walls were a few posters and art pieces, paintings with your favorite colors and designs that reflected your personality.

There was also a bulletin board hung right above your desk, with plenty of photos pinned in the tan board. Soap smiled as he gazed at the photos, seeing himself in so many of them. Many of them had captured you as well, a lot of them were candid shots that you didn’t notice at the time of the shot.

Some were taken when you were stitching up a wound on Soap, perfectly capturing your skilled hands holding him still. They also perfectly captured Soap’s wolfish grin and bright eyes as he stared at you while you stitched him up.

Others were taken by Soap as he snapped a sneaky photo of you next to him. You would be sitting or laying next to him, totally focused on something else while he had his arm wrapped around you. Effectively trapping you in his warmth and preventing you from squirming away. Soap would bring the camera up in front of the two of you and make sure he got his own face in the view, flashing one of his blinding grins. The arm that was wrapped around you would move to pet your hair or caress your cheek.

The next thing that caught his eye was your bed. All made up, neat and tidy. Your sheets, comforter and pillows were all made up of your favorite colors. He walked over to your bed and outstretched his hand, feeling the fabric of your blanket on his palm. He could just imagine you laying there on your soft sheets, your hair resting against the silk pillowcase.

He could also imagine your head thrown back against those pillowcases as he thrusted into you, your face contorted in pleasure and moans falling from your lips. Or maybe him pushing your legs against your chest and devouring your cunt.

He felt like it was a perfect mirror of your relationship dynamic, his rough skin against your soft blanket. He was rough and you were soft.

Finally, his eyes landed on your dresser. There were some artificial potted plants placed on top, with bright petals that caught the eye. There was a small white jewelry dish as well, made of glass and marbled with your favorite colors. The dish held a few rings and necklaces, all pieces he could very clearly remember you wearing.

His eyes brightened as he saw your headphones sitting right next to your jewelry dish. He grabbed them and swiftly slipped them into his sweatpants pocket.

He was just about to turn and leave your room when something caught his eye.

He saw a flash of blue sitting at the bottom of an otherwise empty laundry hamper in the corner of your room. He can’t help himself as he all but runs over to the hamper.

His breath hitches as he sees what the flash of blue was.

A dark blue thong. All lace and intricate detailing, so fucking tempting. And you had just taken it off. Before he could stop himself, he reaches down into the hamper and picks up your thong. The thong that was lucky enough to sit on your perfect skin.

It made his mouth water as he stared at the soft lingerie in his grasp, thinking about you wearing it. Thinking about the fabric riding up on your hips, the lace trim decorating your skin perfectly.

He felt that familiar tightness in his sweatpants as he gripped the fabric tight, his knuckles going white.

It took all of his self control to not just lift the panties up to his nose and smell your juices right then and there.

His hand moved by itself as he pocketed the thong, the lingerie almost burning a hole in his pocket.

Before he knew it, he had made it back to you and given your headphones to you. He barely said two words to you before he was jogging back to his own quarters, his heart racing the entire time.

All he could think about was the lingerie stuffed in his pocket, waiting for him to touch it.

The minute he set foot inside his room, he slammed the door and hurried to lock it behind him.

Only moments later he was sprawled across his bed with his sweatpants pulled down to his knees, and his tank top thrown on the floor. He reached down and let his weeping cock spring out of his boxers. The head was red and swollen, fully hard as it laid against his lower stomach, a steady drip of precum was already leaking from his slit. It was pulsing, blood pumping through it as he kept thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you.

His hand wrapped around his cock as he started pumping it at a languid pace.

“Ah, that’s it,” He hissed through his teeth, feeling that familiar heat build up in his stomach.

Using his thumb, he rubbed slow circles onto the tip, spreading the white liquid around the head of his cock. Slowly, he began stroking himself from the head of his cock down to the base.

With every pump of his fist around his cock, a breathy moan would fall from his lips. His head would fall back against his pillows, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.

His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat that rivaled his post-workout shine, his tan skin was flushed pink as he panted and huffed. His free hand would still be gripping the lace panties with bruising force, as if he was imagining himself holding your ass the same way or pulling your hair the same way.

“Fuck.” His hips would buck into his hand, lifting off the bed as he chased his own pleasure.

He brings your panties up to his nose and takes a big inhale, smelling your musk and juices in one fell swoop. He moans your name so wantonly, so desperately as his hand picks up the pace.

He takes another whiff. Imagining how you would look right in front of him at this very moment. Thinking about the earlier fantasies that plagued his mind did a lot to bring him close to the edge.

All he could think about was how your pretty lips would look wrapped around his weeping cock, how your hands would feel so soft on his sensitive skin. He could imagine your tits bouncing as you bobbed your head on his cock, your nipples poking through your thin top.

He twisted his hand with each stroke up and down his shaft, squeezing at the tip. His white precum was now coating his cock, making lewd wet sounds with every stroke.

“So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ perfect.” He curses, his abs twitching as his hips bucked and squirmed. You were so fucking pretty. You were so fucking perfect.

“Need ye’ so bad. You need me.” His fist moved quicker around his cock.

The more he pumped and stroked, and the more he babbled into the empty room, he felt the knot in his stomach build.

“Ye’ need me to take care of ye’. I’m the only one who can make ye’ feel this good.” His breathing picked up as he felt himself get closer and closer to the edge.

He knew just what would push him right over.

He brought your wet panties down to his cock and started stroking with the flimsy piece of fabric. Immediately, the second that the fabric touched his throbbing cock, his breath hitched.

Even just the thought alone that those panties touched your wet cunt earlier that day was enough to send him over the edge, but feeling your juices on his cock?

That was more than enough to make him shoot ropes of hot cum on his heaving stomach, his hips stuttering as his orgasm ran through him.

Your name falling from his lips as he came with a guttural moan.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

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[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Werewolf!Price Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sfw, werewolf!price, mentions of gore and body horror, loose a/b/o dynamics, possessiveness, scent marking, fluff, werewolf lore sprinkled with pack 141 interactions

-A born lycan. The shift was as natural as breathing. And he quickly showed the temperment of an alpha.

-Shifts to the outsider can appear gruesome. As the wolf quite literally emerges from within, human flesh falling away like a gristly chrysalis to reveal the beast beneath. Traditionally, this shed flesh would be devoured, though it isn't commonly practiced today. The flesh disintegrates quite quickly once shed.

-This being said Price can shift in degrees, often enhancing his own claws or teeth for defensive purposes rather than shift completely. 

-No, the clothes do not magically pop back on once he's done. Shifting completely is inconvenient and typically a last resort. It's difficult to strip in the middle of a fire fight, let alone find his tac bag stark naked after it's all said and done.

-For born wolves, this shift is generally smooth and quick. For those bitten, it is this first shift that often leads to their death. Around 75% of those bitten do not have the bodily fortitude to withstand the change.

-as a born wolf, Price's enhanced senses are also perfectly integrated, and require no sensory aids for him to navigate his daily life unlike the majority of bitten wolves.

-born wolves have a tendency to remain in seclusion, within the safety and comfort of their pack. When a new alpha is born they typically either stay to take over leadership, or stake out a new territory to build their own pack.

-John was quickly ostracized when he showed little interest in either of those things. He seemed to be far more preoccupied with exploring both the world and his own strength. The military amongst the humans would do quite nicely.

-During his tours there would be fleeting encounters with other monsters, typically enemies. But a few comrades as well. Such as Nikolai, a bear shifter. The pair of lycans got along beautifully.

-Now, despite his former pack's opinions of him, John had never explicitly said he didn't want a pack, just not their version of a pack. No. John had a different idea in mind.

-Simon was the first. A strong and brutal human, who had shown an endearing gentleness in certain circumstances. Price had decided immediately that Simon would belong to him. He just needed some final paper work to build his pack task force. He had even settled on changing Simon himself, despite the risks. A bloody vampire had beaten him to it. Price was hardly angry that Simon's humanity was taken from him, just that Simon had to suffer in such a way to get there. At least Price had the pleasure of siring the newborn himself.

-Next had been Soap. A wiley thing with a blatant disregard for orders and big blue eyes that were far too pretty to be all human. Price couldn't decide if he should scruff or praise him for his cheek. But Soap had an excellent knack for mixing things that should absolutely not work, into something that would cave a warehouse in seconds. Along with a distinct aversion to touching certain metals with his bare hands. His peculiarities had earned him a nickname, and also given him away as a Fae. Price would have him too.

-Garrick followed not long after. Sharp and driven Gaz. Incredibly clever with a proud determination that blazed behind those warm brown eyes. Gaz's skills made his inner wolf purr in delight.  Another lovely thing for him to keep. Price was taken with him immediately, and had never felt more at ease than with the sergeant he had stolen in Piccadilly. 

-While he could tell from Kyle's scent that he was something Other. Price would only receive cryptic answers or riddles that only made the younger sergeant chuckle as Price failed to guess correctly. (Price would totally not make up excessively silly answers to see the sergeants pretty smile, oh no).

-It wouldn't be until they were stranded in an excessively hot desert that Gaz would reveal himself. Price had emerged from their tent to see Garrick, posted up like it was summer vacation, with a brilliant golden wing curled over his head to shade him from the sun. A long tufted tail flickering back and forth out of a small cut in his fatigues. Gaz had looked up from his book, golden slitted eyes peering over his aviators. Flashed him a toothy grin. “Wanna make another guess Cap?”

-Price has a vicious possessive streak, and he plays it incredibly carefully in the beginning of the task force. He watches his vocabulary when talking about the “team.” His pack. Perfect, strong and beautiful. All of them. Chosen carefully.  He was careful not to spook them at first, worried his possessive language would put them off.  But they are, for all intents and purposes, his.

-His possessiveness had manifested subtly at first. Scent marking them. Brushing shoulders or gentle touches as he passed them. He would even resort to smoking beside them if touching seemed out of the question. At least his smoke would soak into their clothes and hair.

-As they fell together it became less subtle. Price couldn't resist sinking his teeth into their flesh as they writhed beneath him. Suck bruises along whatever flesh he could get his mouth on. It was a pro and a con that his boys all healed so well. While his marks did not remain for long, it meant he could only mark them up sooner. 

-He loves that their scents all intermingle, really. But he can be stubbornly adamant that his scent is the most notable. Often catching Soap or Gaz to tug into his office, kissing the breath out of them, only to curtly send them back out, freshly scented and a bit dazed. It's a fair compromise considering Simon often hogs the sergeants to himself.

-Simon often seeks him out of his own volition. Coming to his office to sit quietly, work on his own reports and bask in Price's scent of spilled ink and warm honey. Or sneaking to his room in the night. Slipping off the mask to bury his nose against his throat. No biting. Just breathing. His scent a balm to the younger vampires frayed nerves. 

-Price takes an immense amount of pride in caring for his pack, and takes his job seriously in protecting and providing. Gets immensely distraught when one of his mates is hurting. Knowing no limits in showering them in comfort items and love. 

[bluegiragi]

I'm not sure how I found your account but I have loved all of your creations. They have fueled my hyper-fixation for Call of Duty.

When it comes to your Monster au, are there any characteristics from the team that you see them having that you haven't been able to draw out in a storyline?

that's such a good question omg...it'd probably be all the ways that the 141 grew up.

(warning - lots of reading under the cut)

Price is a dragon hybrid, which means that historically his kind has not had amazing relationships with humans or each other. Close-knit dragon communities are still really rare, since instinctively they're extremely territorial and require space to themselves and a way to assert their own strength and hoard. But, sort of by government mandate, dragons need to keep within designated areas in case they accidentally torch a human city y'know. So he did grow up in a colony, but all the families there tended to keep to themselves, exempting mating season and the occasional territory fight. He left to join the military when he was pretty young, all things considered, and I think he did it mainly out of boredom. They were happy to have him of course - dragons are massive powerhouses with long lifespans, and very rare in their ranks (they dislike being ordered around). Price would like to think he's destined for a quiet life, but his job really let him wreak havoc and he took pleasure in indulging that primal urge of his. He grew out of that destructive phase though - nowadays, his priorities consist of taking care of his team.

--

Soap is a werewolf, which is a monster that subscribes to the 'it-takes-a-village' kind of mentality for raising a child. The Mactavishes are an average werewolf pack, with Soap, his parents, his grandparents, and his two sisters (one older, and one younger). Wolves are social creatures, but the older generation likes to stay within their own kind, if only for safety reasons. Soap's always been a go-getter though, so joining the military for a chance to see more of the world just made sense to him. Full-blooded werewolves are pretty sought after in the ranks, but they're a relatively newblood kind of monster. Superiors will often do their best to tame wolves and bring them to heel, with differing levels of success. If you win their loyalty, they're yours for life, but do them wrong and the pack will turn on you. Because of that danger of mutiny, officials will tend to keep it to one werewolf a team, despite them being stronger together.

--

Harpies are typically solitary and aren't very present parents, since they'll raise their children until they're 16 then dump them somewhere and tell them to survive. It sounds ruthless to most, but it's just how their culture is and it's how Gaz grew up. He's a resourceful type, and joined the military as soon as he could. Harpies are actually one of the more common monsters used in the forces, since their eyesight and wings make for pretty amazing scouting forces/snipers. In saying that though, there's no automatic comradery to be found between two harpies on the same team - in fact, they'll usually be combative at worst and cold/distant at best. Historically, harpies have found pride in their own independence, so being forced to interact/work together can be seen as an insult. Gaz himself is pretty charismatic and cool-headed, but even he'd get irritated if he was forced to share space with another harpy. He was shipped around between teams a lot as a lead sniper before he got promoted and met Price.

--

Simon is a wraith, but before that he was a normal human, if a bit freakishly strong. His time in the military was an escape from his home life, and after he became a wraith, that distance between himself and the human world only grew. Not a lot is known about wraiths, because the only way you'd be able to study one is if they let you and wraiths are inherently extremely private creatures with a tendency for extreme bursts of violence. They're also almost impossible to catch/imprison, so Simon's an asset the military is determined to hold onto.

[konigsblog]

Can't stop thinking about primal play with werewolf!Simon :((

Him transforming and chasing you through the woods and giving you slightest bit of advantage (even though he knows exactly where you are) because he loves the chase and he loves to smell your fear and excitement :(((

Werewolf!Simon finally catching up with you, pushing you down into dirt, ripping your clothes with his claws and pushing into you roughly while growling into your ear and promising to breed you :(((

just like me, anon. werewolf!simon and werewolf!soap would be a handful together... :(

// werewolf hybrid 🐺

werewolf!simon is super clingy, and very arrogant and ignorant. all he needs is to feel you against him, to run his shaft against your thigh whilst transformed.

he adores pred/pray, it's the anticipation and the thought of your cunny taking every inch that keeps him going. you couldn't outrun a wolf, let alone a werewolf, especially when the night sky turns murky and black, illuminated by the glowing stars in the far, far distance. “fuck--there y'are...”

he curses out, wrestling you to the ground. his sweet thing, his owner, turning vulnerable infront of his very eyes. his deep hazel eyes narrow in on you, tearing your clothes off using his claws and using his teeth to take your pretty, pink lace panties off.

god, you're teasing him... he huffs out at the aroma and essence of your cunt. it's the taste; sweet like nectar, addictive like sugar. he drags and laps at your pussy, his claws keeping you in place as he buries his face into your wet pussy. make no attempt to stop him, otherwise you're in for a rough fucking.

simon is completely fascinated with the taste. he'll dribble for it. ‘drooling as you finger yourself, tied up’. a faint memory giving him a sense of revenge as he pulls your legs over his broad, furry shoulders and eases inside. no preparation, this is his payback. unrelenting and unsparing, no mercy for you as he fucks harshly into your hole in at a pace that leaves you fuzzy and unable to comprehend and think clearly.

“quit fuckin' squirmin', dumbass. you're just swallowin' all this cock like it's nothin'... greedy, little shit.”