#wolf john soap mactavish

[charliemwrites]

Finished!

You find a wolf (dog?) in the woods one day - or more accurately, he finds you. He's the perfect pup... even if he is a little weird.

Content: Shapeshifter AU, Mild Injury, Voyeurism, Dub-Con/Non-Con

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

1fur1 (not canon): (No content warning)

Ghost

Konig pt. 1; konig pt. 2

Birthday oneshot

Price pt. 1 ; Price pt. 2

Gaz

[chamomiletealeaf]

Wolf hybrid! Johnny who fucks you in doggy in his hybrid form, shoving your face down into the dirt in the woods behind your house, his massive human/wolf body holding you down and keeping you in place for him as he grunts and growls in your ear 😮‍💨😵‍💫🥴

[bluegiragi]

puppy playtime!!

early access + nsfw on patreon

[reds-skull]

Soap "dog-coded" MacTavish my beloved

(This took 5 weeks help)

[feralgoblinqueen]

I’m not the first to write something like this but here’s my spin on shifter!141.

*****

They had spent too long in their bestial forms. Time feels different when the wolf takes over, easier to lose track of and even harder to remember their human lives. By the time one of them remembers the house in the woods and its many acres that still needs a final payment under a fake name it’s too late.

They look on from the tree line, taking note of the changes made by the new owner. A budding flower garden in front of the house, well kept and just starting to show its spring colors. Around back a large vegetable patch was still green, nothing yet ready to harvest. The exterior had a fresh coat of paint and small repairs had been made. A single faded blue truck rumbled up the long and winding driveway. That’s when they first laid eyes upon you.

—————

“Abandoned, Selling As Is” was what the advertisement had read. No one else had wanted the plot of land hours away from civilization. For you, though, it was perfect. Somewhere to start over, to be alone and relearn who you are.

The rooms still held the previous owner’s belongings. Everything had been left untouched as if they just vanished one day. All men, you assumed, just from the sparse decor and the clothes left behind. Military, maybe, from how the beds were made with their sheets tucked into hospital corners. Paranoid loners, possibly even doomsday preppers, was another guess you made after discovering a gun safe hidden behind a false wall under the stairs.

It was almost a game, once a day trying a hand full of combinations to see if any worked. Something mindless to fill an unoccupied moment of time. That’s when you really started going through the papers and books left behind. Looking for any clues at what the code might be. A notepad left on the small hallway table is where you scribbled down all the combinations that hadn’t worked, in a meager attempt to not repeat yourself. A small mystery to add a little life to your loneliness.

At night is when things really come to life this far out into the wilderness. In the early days of owning the property, before you were able to get the satellite internet set up, you’d spend the evenings watching and listening on the back porch. Deer were the most common, using the wide open expanse of a backyard as a place to graze in the evenings. Owls silently swooping down on field mice before retreating to the trees once more. Coyotes, crickets, and night birds made a symphony of nature most nights.

The most exciting were the wolves. You could always hear them howling in the distance, calling to one another. They weren’t like the coyotes that cackled over one another in attempt to sound larger or more numerous than they actually were. These were direct calls and responses. Their vocalizations sounding almost melancholy, as if they were yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

It was a quiet night when you finally decided to respond to their calls. The evening had been spent making supply lists for your trek into the nearest town in the morning. A large cooler had been thrown into the bed of your truck to store items intended for the refrigerator and deep freezer.

You sat on the tailgate, listening to the night song that seemed to encapsulate the peaceful valley you now owned. A celebratory drink held in one hand and a small, proud smile graces your lips. Your house was starting to feel like a real home and that was definitely worth celebrating.

The wolves that you had grown fond of, yet had never seen, were starting up. Your favorite night song. A melody that you could listen to for hours. One you had listened to for hours.

Four. You could make out four distinct calls at this point. Two were more vocal than others, their tones more playful. One was definitely the pack leader. His call the first and last each night, like a command or an order. And one was rarely heard, usually only short responses and never as loud as the others. But the valley always carried their calls to you, teaching you their voices. They were faceless friends in your solitude.

So you call out into the night. The long howl a poor imitation of theirs, straining your vocal cords.

The night grows still. All goes quiet. As the silence passes for a beat, then another, your smile slowly falters and fades. A pang of disappointment and a small bubble of guilt at interrupting their conversation.

All animals, even fierce predators, could be skittish. You worried that your call had scared them off, ruining your chances of ever spotting them. With a hop you jump off the tailgate, slamming it shut in frustration. Heavy feet stomping all the way onto the porch and inside. You could only hope they hadn’t heard your foolishness and that something else has quieted them.

The night remains silent as you crawl into bed. The night song ending early and sewing sadness into your dreams.

But they had heard you.

Your distinctly human howling calling to a dormant part of their minds. They remembered themselves. They remembered their life in the valley. They remembered the house where their human lives were lived.

And they were coming home.

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Ghost: "Who the fuck let you out of the house at this rate? You're a god damn disaster and need supervision, OBVIOUSLY"

Soap: *In a hospital bed and loopy on pain meds* "I looked both ways before crossing that street"

Ghost: *Getting more pissed* "You ran full speed in front of a car, you're lucky it was going SLOW"

Soap: "I said LOOKED both ways, meaning I made sure I was handsome AND beautiful" *giggles like an idiot*

Ghost: "I'm going to eventually strangle you and it won't be blamed on anything except insanity."

Soap: "You can't give me back or exchange me, I burned the receipt remember?"

Ghost: "That was our marriage certificate, and I got a new one that you won't be able to burn because you don't know where it is." *Slowly coming to the realization that he, is in fact, the one who let Soap out of the house without supervision*

[tiddygame]

ghost’s civilian wardrobe is nothing but hawaiian shirts. soap is in utter disbelief the first time he sees it. ghost says they’re good bc:

it’s so fucking ugly, no one can stand to look at it for too long so he doesn’t draw attention

No one thinks the ghost would wear something so bright and stupid meaning he’s completely under cover every time he’s on leave

they’re cheap and an easy thrift

but he just really fucking likes how goddamn ugly they are

…

at least, that’s what he tells soap. and himself. in reality, they were always tommy’s thing. he always wore them to the point everyone knew that the safest gift to get him was the ugliest patterned shirts they could find. in every family photo, tommy was the easiest to spot with the brightest eye sore worn proudly with a smile.

after that cold night in december, all of their stuff was either donated or thrown away.

one day, ghost was thrift shopping (because even though now he had more money, habits from being raised in a poor home die hard) and saw one of them. he froze. at first, he thought it was just one that looked similar. but when he inspected it, it even had that old tear tommy had gotten simon to fix and sew up for him.

he grabbed it in a daze. he searched every rack in that store and found a few more hawaiian shirts. if they were tommy’s or not didn’t matter. he bought them. for days, he hunted through every thrift store in town buying every stupid patterned shirt he saw.

knowing that the few shirts he collected was the only thing he had left of his baby brother finally broke him. he probably looked insane, sitting in his old beat up pickup truck, surrounded by shopping bags from different stores, crying into a yellow and orange button up with flowers on it, and one sewn up tear on the sleeve. but it was tommy’s. and it was all he had.

at first, they were hidden away in a box. he lied to himself that it was because he wanted to keep them safe, but in reality, he couldn’t look at them without either wanting to cry or punch holes in the wall.

but, one christmas, he finally pulls his head out of his ass and grabs them. visits the cemetery in a stupid yellow and orange monstrosity of a shirt and complains that tommy couldn’t have had a better fashion sense.

he wears another when he has to go grocery shopping. and again when he runs errands. and again. and again. and again.

the first time one of them got something on it, he almost cried and pulled every trick his mother taught him about removing stains. the shadow of it persisted but the pattern covered most of it.

eventually, they became a staple of his wardrobe.

years later, soap watched ghosts careful routine he had for washing the shirts. they were always washed separately on delicate and air dried with routine inspections for any holes or tears. it would click later, when finding an old family photo, one with a young boy on simon’s shoulders and another man next to him in a familiar yellow and orange shirt, that perhaps simon hadn’t been entirely truthful when he said he just liked them.

simon was scared the first time soap did his laundry, but johnny always washed them with the same level of care, following the exact same routine. he still made fun of him (lovingly, of course), saying that crimes against fashion must run in the family.

…

and further down the line, years later, they will be old and graying with wrinkles, wearing matching hawaiian shirts. johnny will complain about how ugly they are yet will still wear it happily (and tune out simon reminding him that it was johnnys idea to start matching)

[amazeingartist]

Some (loose) Wolf Duo Doodles

soap’s a werewolf and ghost’s a wolf shifter

[screamingviridianforest]

Short post as I wait at the hospital

Hybrid au, fosters, male reader bc i want to

~

The boys were retired now but still looking for something meaningful to do with their life. Being hybrids, work wasn't exactly the most open for them, even small jobs.

So why not foster hybrid kids? Kids who they would make sure they didn't suffer in childhood like they had. Someone innocent they could help blossom in a good person.

Kyle was the one who proposed the idea. Being a big cat hybrid, he longed for kittens to look after. It just so happened that Ghost, a wolf hybrid, wanted pups to look after.

After the discussion, it sprung the want for cubs in Price and Johnny, a bear hybrid and hyena hybrid, respectively. They all wanted to help a young hybrid, someone they could dote on and help prosper.

So, they set to work setting up their house to foster standards and filling out a seemingly endless amount of paperwork. It was a long process, but they were nothing but patient. They all wanted this and on hard nights they'd use it as motivation to keep going. A chance to do good, one that wouldn't hurt anyone.

And you, who were their first placement. A young sheep hybrid. Horns that curled around your head and fleece that was matted down. You were so shy, especially around predator hybrids.

The first night was rough. You hid in your room the entire time. It was enough to send their instincts spiraling.

"Did we already scare the lad?" Johnny whinned, curling around Simon. Johnny's small tail tucked away.

"No, no," John soothed from his spot on the couch, a soft look in his eyes. "He's in a new place with new people, and we're predators in his brain."

Kyle made a chuffing sound, "we'll need to earn his trust, is all. That starts by making sure he knows he's safe here and we don't want to hurt him."

Simon hummed in agreement, hand running up and down Johnny's back. He didn't have anything to add, but he couldn't deny seeing the fear in your eyes set something off in him. It reminded him of his childhood and he was determined to give you better.

"I'll go tuck him in," John finally says, standing up. "Tomorrow we'll talk to him and help get him settled more."

But when John walks into your room, he finds you already curled up in the corner of your bed. Your small hands clutching the small plush you carried everywhere with you. He sighed softly at the sight. It causes your head to shoot up and lock eyes with him.

"Easy now, little lamb," Price chuffs softly, a reassuring sound, even to you. "Just here to tuck you in, alright?"

He waits for your small nod before moving closer. He picks up a blanket, a big beige one. It was soft and very new. John is so careful as he tucks it around your slim shoulders. You were so small.

"Tomorrow, we'll talk more, get you settled in more, hm?" John says kindly, smoothing the blanket out. You nod again. "Maybe go out and get you some new stuff? Or we'll stay in for a movie day."

You just watch him with your wide eyes. Your hair was matted down and John so desperately wanted to brush it out but he didn't dare push any boundaries. He'd make sure you'd get all cleaned up, tomorrow.

For the rest of the boys, tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

They just had to be patient.

They could do that, right?

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

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Masterlist

[doodlesdreaming]

If you have anxiety, blow it up or find a safe place to catch your breath…

[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.

[nouns-are-bad]

Vampire gaz being scared of feeding in front of the 141 because he’s had a hard time feeding in front of other teammates so it’s obviously the same here right?

Wrong, soap brings him a dead deer for him to feed off of with soap, ghost kills someone and while their bodies still hot asks if gaz want to get a quick meal in, price discretely handing him blood in a concealed flask for long missions because “we need you at the top of your game soldier”

The 141 including gaz in their meal practices because they don’t find it weird and want him to eat with them

[ghcstao3]

i was scrolling through my older reblogs (i needed the comfort of months ago when everything was right in the cod fandom) and i found your wolf shifter!soap post and it got me thinking.....

wolf shifter!soap and cat shifter!ghost together!! i have a few ideas:

soap is an extremely affectionate wolf, likes to cuddle and LOVES kisses (both receiving and giving) so it is not uncommon to find ghost sitting resignedly and shooting daggers at him while his fur is being re-arranged by a huge over-enthusiastic wolf

soap is not really aware of his size so he keeps knocking people off their feet - he accidentally tramples over ghost and smacks him in the face with his tail regularly

the size difference is ridiculous and soap doesn't let ghost live it down that he is taller in their animal forms

price and gaz have a shared folder of pictures of them sleeping in the most ridiculous positions in price's office - their favourite is soap laying belly down sprawled on the floor with ghost starfishing on his back, feet dangling

during the winters both of their furs thickens up and ghost physically cannot stop nuzzling and cuddling soap (like this: https://hu.pinterest.com/pin/844495367647877613/)

ghost loves travelling on soaps back and that's the hill i'm gonna die on

thinking about them made me giddy. i'm dying to know if you have any additions, your cat shifter!ghost content makes my day every single time i see one, seriously i can't get enough

oml this is so cute i love this so much

i think despite being smaller in shifted size, ghost is absolutely still The Boss. like sometimes he will leave soap begging or whining or exposing his belly when he wants attention from ghost, but ghost just refuses—be it he doesn’t want to get slobber on him, he doesn’t want to deal with the smell of dog breath, whatever, he decides to make soap work for attention.

unfortunately it’s difficult to deter soap because really, he could just grab ghost by the scruff and bring him wherever (and has… only once), or he could just persist in general, and ghost is forced to give in easily—not even a few smacks on the snout make soap’s tail wag any less. but ghost doesn’t… entirely mind, because he has to admit, soap is a pretty good nap spot.

and even though they’re playfully mean to each other all the time, as a team they can easily, easily wrap themselves around anyone’s finger if they play up the cute interspecies relationship, because shifter status is something kept under wraps outside of the team—security risks, and all that. so no one knows these are trained and highly skilled soldiers just trying to trick people into getting them things.

[kruegerspillow]

‘Your touch devours me, baby,’ A werewolf Soap fanfic.

Creator's note: I have appeared outta nowhere again, with the most random fic in the world. Well, enjoy this, keep in mind that English isn't my first language, and this hasn't been proofread. Eat up girlies.

Summary: You knew that Soap was a lycanthrope, and you've opened up to him about being interested in learning about their species. But there's one thing that he didn't give you a heads up at.. his heat cycle.

Genre: Real kinky smut.. MDNI ! 🔞

Words: 2,121 (including these creator's notes, warning, summary, genre, etc..)

Warning: NSFW, absolute feral Soap, a lot of swearing, no mentions of y/n, reader is AFAB, Soap is a wayy submissive here. PiV, breeding, brief mentions of blood, Soap got caught humping on a pillow (yes, you read that right.), CNC (?), SOAP IS SO CARING HERE ASKASKSk, super soft Soap !! After care.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, the charming werewolf that everyone knows. He's known for his charisma, and of course, his heightened capibilities.

The base had been oddly quiet after the mission, most of the soldiers had already went to the usual pub to celebrate another succesful mission. Though, you felt like someone was missing, which gave you an eery feeling. Thus, you decided to walk your way back to base to check out on that person— Johnny.

You walked out of the group of soldiers, the unpleasent smell of alcohol lingering around you— you squeezed your way through the crowd, wincing and muttering a small apology for every person whom you bumped into. As you finally succeed to get your way out of the crowded pub, you wandered your way back to the base— goosebump forming on your arms everytime the wind breezes.

Your boots crunched against the cold, hard ground. You made it back to the base, before walking your way to the quarters. As you turned to one of the corners, you froze on your spot.

A familiar voice rings into your ears, before you recognized that Scottish accent. Though, as you walked closer to his dorm door, you heard those familiar sounds of pleasures— along with bed creaking and the wet noises.

“Fuckfuckfuck, [name].. feel so fuckin' good, grinding against me like that..” You heard him choke out, followed by a high-pitched whine.

The familiar heat creeps up onto your face, feeling your body jolt slightly at the sound of him calling out for you like that. Your hand rests on his doorknob, debating on whether to open the door and intervene, or.. listen to his noises of pleasure.

Well, the door creaked.

You got into his room quickly, before closing the door behind you. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, before you locked the door to his dorm. You stood there on the doorframe, before your eyes met with his. Soap had never looked so guilty in his life. His body shudders against the pillow, before he completely froze— his hand grips the sheet, just enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“C'mon, don't stop on my account, Soap. Go on with what you're doing,” You grunted out, crossing your arms as you looked down at him. His face went completely red, lips parting as his tail wags in excitement.

“Shit, [name], you.. you shouldn't be here.” He murmured out, sounding more cautious as his cock twitched on the pillow. Your scent lingers around him, his head spinning from your strong smell. His breath hitches, precum spreaded on his pillow.

You decided to take matters in your own hand, quite literally.

You walked even closer to him, before leaning down to face him, enough for Soap to feel your breath against his hot face. He bit his lip, stifling any noises he's about to let out. One of your hand reaches down to support you on the bed, before the other went to his twitching cock.

“Fuck! Don't.” He hissed out, warning you for the consenquences of his heat, “I dont want to risk hurting you, bonnie.”

You maintain eye contact, eyes rolling at his words before you crawled onto the bed. You were on your knees, legs beside his trembling thighs as your right hand kept itself on the tip of his cock.

“Try me, Johnny.” Your voice was low and raspy. His tail immediately perks up once again as he tried to hold himself back. He tried to resist wagging his tail, pushing the pillow that was sprawled with his precum away. His eyes showed how badly he's asking for it.

“Baby.. shit, at least keep distance with me,” He whined out, afraid to hurt you in any kind of form. “Don't wanna fuckin' hurt you.. Get out before it's too late,”

You ignored his pleas, before you stroked his cock, your hand twisting everytime it went against the tip of his cock.

“[name], bonnie, fuuck..” He whined out, trying to resist his hips from bucking up as both of his hands clenched the sheets beneath the both of you. He had practically given up on trying to stop you, though. His eyes rolled back slightly, whining out like he's begging you to let him breed you, to mate with you.

“I know, I know, relax a bit for me, will you?” I shushed him, trying to keep him quiet as I stroked him. Your other hand reaches up to his chin, making him face you as you gave him a passionate kiss. He kissed back desprerately, biting your lip gently— well, he tried to. He drawed blood on your lips, his sharp fangs cutting your lip. The sensation of pain and pleasure mixed, and before he could even apologized, you shoved your thumb into his mouth.

He grunted out, bucking his hips completely now. He sucked on your thumb, but this time, even more careful as he knew that his fangs were way too sharp to be played around. His tongue swirled, feeling himself going closer and closer to the edge. He looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes, trying to signal you that he's about to cum.

“Cum.. about to, ngghh, about to cum..” he panted out with his muffled voice, feeling his saliva drip down from his chin. He felt feral, yet so submissive around you.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile before your hand picks up the pace. You earned a whimper from him, his noises coming in between his little pants as his tail wagged.

“Cum for me like a good boy, will you?” You teased him, before you tipped him just over the edge. His back arched, fangs showing as he let out a long whine. His hips kept bucking, cum shooting out from his leaking cock to his own stomach. His cock twitches in your hand, still obviously hard even after the orgasm.

You chuckled, amazed by his intense orgasm as you let go of your hand from his cock, letting him catch breath for a second. You pulled out your thumb from his mouth, seeing it dripping with his wet saliva. As he catched his breath, you met his gaze— your right hand entering his mouth once again— making him swallow his own cum.

“Swallow it like a good ol'boy, hm..” you praised him as he swallowed his release. As you pulled out his thumb, his hands shots up to your waist as he tried to tug your trousers down.

“Wanna eat.. eat you out so badly, please..” he groaned out, before you heard small footsteps outside the room. It was probably the soldiers going back to their dorm anyway.

You smiled at his words, before letting him tug your trousers down. He pulled them down as fast as he could, his fingers fiddling with your zipper as he finally got them down. He pulled you by your waist, before laying on his back and pushing you down onto his face— your clothed clit right on top of him.

“You, ride my face, don't even think if I can breathe or not.” he breathed out, before his fingers tugged your panties down.

Your breath hitched slightly as his gaze met with your dripping cunt, you grunted at the sensation of his warm breath against your core. He didn't even wait anymore, his tongue lunging at you like a feral beast with it's prey. He licked and sucked, the sounds of your slickness loud and clear for others to hear.

His hand shots up to your thigh, pushing even more weight down to his face. He grunted out, squeezing your thigh as his tongue went in deeper into your swollen clit. You whimpered out, your hand reaching down to tug on his hair— which nearly made him cum on the spot too.

He moaned out, his voice muffled as he devoured you fully, his tongue felt so good in you. You clenched around nothing, before looking down at him, your chest rising up and down.

“I.. I'm close, Soap, don't stop..” you moaned out, biting your bleeding bottom lip— luckily, he didn't notice the amount of blood he drew from you.

His tongue wiggled in you, wanting to feel you cum on his face as he let out a breathy chuckle. You spasmed, before letting go. As your orgasm occured, he lapped up your juices, seeming to be more then satisfied to make you feel really good. You jolted as he continuted to lick and suck for a few more seconds, before fully stopping. You got off of his face, just to see his saliva mixed with your juices drooling down his chin. A small grin tugged in the corner of his lips, he still looked.. desperate.

He grabbed your waist once again, before positioning you towards his cock.

“Need to feel you around me, hnngh..” he slurred out, voice raspy as he slowly lowered you down. His tip went in, and he nearly came just from the sensation of you clenching around it. Wet sounds formed as he slowly inserted his cock, inches by inches, it was finally in.

With a small 'pop', he's fully inside you now. He groaned out, back arching as you started to ride him on the spot. You grinded down against him, purposely clenching around his cock just to tease him even a bit. He whined out, ears drooping as his hips bucked. His hand stayed on your waist, supporting you as he made sure he didn't miss the feeling of even a single sensation. You thrusted him in and out from you, feeling his cock twitch as you moaned out.

“Feel so fuckin' good..” he murmured out in pleasure.

And in a second, he flipped you over, making you lay on your back against the messy sheets. You gasped in amusement, before letting him do his own thing. Suddenly, he absolutely ruts into you with no mercy, panting as his tongue poked out of his mouth. He lets out little whimper and whines, feeling you clench around him when he fastened the pace.

“Fuuck.. I'm sorry baby, can't. fuckin'. hold. back. anymore.” he moaned out in between deep, long thrusts. He ruts into you, a feral wolf he is.

He chased his orgasm, as well as yours. Thrusting deeper and deeper, he felt himself getting closer— along with you clenching around him.

“Need to breed you, need to fucking cum in you, need us to cum together. Wanna breed you so fucking bad..” he slurred out, lost in the sensation of pleasure.

He picks up his pace by the second, before the both of you tipped over the edge. One last thrust, and you could feel his knot in you.

You whined out, feeling his knot dripping into your greedy cunt. You clenched around Soap's cock, before arching your back. Soap grunted out, panting heavily as his cum still drips out. In a few more moments, the both of you catched your breath. He slowly pulls out, earning a gasp from you.

“Bonnie.. did I hurt you?” He asked in concerned, before his eyes glances down to your core, his cum dripping out. His cock hardened once more, but he decided to let it be, as he didn't want to hurt you again. You shook your head, appearing to be fine before his fingers gently fucked the cum back into your cunt.

He prepared aftercare for you, grabbing a warm towel and tossing it to you and handing you a glass of warm water after he took a shower with you, tugging his boxers back up— the imprint of his still hard cock visible, but he ignores it. His tail wags, ears perking up as he crawled into your arms softly.

“Your touch devours me, baby, I am all yours.”

[thebookbutterfly]

calling my mom so I can ‘tell on’ you for hurting my feelings