#wolf shifter soap

[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

[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

[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.

[amazeingartist]

Some (loose) Wolf Duo Doodles

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

[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.

[row-theboat]

Wolfshifter!Soap who became a demolition expert because he could sniff out the bombs.

Wolfshifter!Soap who grows more body hair during winter and has to invest in high quality razors.

Wolfshifter!Soap who views the 141 as his pack and is fiercely loyal to them.

Wolfshifter!Soap who is very protective of his partner.

Wolfshifter!Soap who's wolf form is incredibly cuddly and physically affectionate.

Wolfshifter!Soap whose family is a very close-knitted pack.

Wolfshifter!Soap who doesn't like dogs because he knows they smell the wolf on him.

Wolfshifter!Soap who wears his mic like a collar as a subtle way of representing his canine.

[141cosmo]

My COD Shifters AU in this format. Incredible meme, I love this picture. Also couldn't be asked to do a background so it's blank for now. AAAND I changed Ghost's design to have an actual mask on instead of the skull being a part of his fur. I think it looks much more badass.

[snootlestheangel]

Shifter AU where Bailey meets Ghoap

Just a little blurb of a fic idea/wip I may not get back to for a while.

@stuffireadandenjoy

If cats could cry the way humans did, with rivers of tears and runny noses, Bailey would be sobbing.

But cats can't cry like that, and she didn't dare make a noise as something flew overhead. It was a bird, this much she knew, but a threat nonetheless. She was still rather small in her cat form, and large birds of prey still posed a threat.

The bird circled once again before landing on the ground next to the truck she had taken residence under. She tried her best to hide against the large tire and hope no one would notice her and would continue on. But the bird, a raven, seemed intent on searching every little nook and cranny for something. Bailey wanted to relax, wanted to believe that the raven posed no threat to her as they were typically scavengers, but something just felt off.

It was a rather large raven, in her defense, and it seemed very determined to find what it was looking for. Almost too intelligent to be just a normal raven, but rather a Shifter. The thought didn't ease Bailey's anxieties about getting discovered, as the Raven could easily be a ploy, a way to trick her into thinking she was being saved only to throw her right back into hell.

Bailey can't tell if it's a miracle or a curse that her little heart didn't stop the second the raven laid eyes on her and excitedly hopped up and down.

This about confirmed her suspicions that the feathered stranger was in fact a Shifter, but it certainly didn't make her believe they were here to save her. She hissed and swatted at the bird's beak as it hopped closer, making soft calls to her. She managed to hit its beak, and the Raven jumped back in surprise, hitting its head against the bottom of the truck. It shook itself out and quickly hopped up onto the fence in her view. It settled there, quiet and looking down at her with a tilted head. A light on the outside of the building next to them casted an eerie glow around the Raven, and all she could do was sit and stare at it in hopes it would get bored and fly away.

And then it began to call. Every few seconds it would let out a series of calls, beckoning for another of its flock to come near. Bailey wanted nothing to do with the flock, or with this Raven, but she was frozen, stuck in place with fear gluing her feet to the concrete.

Then the footsteps. Quiet to a normal person's ear, yet loud enough for her sensitive cat ears to pick up. Big, heavy boots tramping through the grass nearby as the person approached.

The Raven seemed to recognize the person, as it called a final time while bobbing its head up and down. As the boots hit concrete, just behind the truck she hid under, Bailey watched in horror as the Raven hopped down from its perch and landed next to the truck. It motioned at her with a thrust of its head, yet keeping its distance. It was almost funny to her, the way this large bird respected her space after being barely scratched by tiny kitten claws.

"Got something, Johnny?" A gruff voice, barely above a whisper yet so loud all the same, called out to the Raven. The Raven hopped up and down a couple of times before beckoning back towards Bailey's hiding spot, one which was honestly poorly thought out on her part.

The light from the building quickly disappeared as the man got on his knees and peered under the truck. Brown eyes shrouded in darkness widened slightly upon seeing her, yet she backed slightly at seeing the intimidating figure. A skull, presumably a mask, covered most of the man's face, and what it didn't was swarmed with dark cloth.

"Easy, not gonna 'urt yah." The man muttered as he adjusted his position to reach under the truck and pull her out. He was British, as best she could tell, and sounded nothing like the people that did this. But she didn't care. She didn't want anyone near her, she didn't trust anyone, and simply wanted to go to sleep and wake up to see this had all been a terrible nightmare. So she hissed and growled and swatted as his gloved hand came near, and he simply pulled it back with a quiet huff. She thought it was exasperated, frustrated that she refused his "helping hand", but it turned out to be a laugh as his eyes crinkled, head shaking ever so slightly.

"Wanna come out yourself, then?" He asked, but she didn't answer. Didn't nod her head or give any indication that she even understood him. She curled in on herself, the heart wrenching desire of just wanting to go home burning under her skin. She wanted to shift only so she could cry, but she couldn't. Not here, not now.

"We're gonna get you out of this, yeah? I know it's hard, and it's scary, but you just gotta trust us for a bit." The masked man said, once again reaching his hand out, the palm up. Bailey took a deep breath before slowly unfurling herself and crawling towards his open hand. She let out a nervous cry as she was hoisted into the air before being gently tucked against the man's chest. She was sitting on the top of his vest, safely nestled away.

And she only just realized how cold she was, and just how warm the stranger was. She let out a soft sigh as she tucked herself into the little spot, and the man's other hand came up to gently hold her in place. Warm, and safe.

The Raven landed on his shoulder, cawing quietly. The man nudged him with his head, helmet knocking against the bird.

"Good bird."

[izgnanik-a]

I’m obsessed with @bluegiragi ‘s shifter AU and I need to empty my brain out so — what about corvid!Simon and wolf!Johnny?

TW : mentions of dead things and carnivore behavior, corvids are scavengers after all

When they’d met, Corvid!Simon had followed a murder of other corvids he wasn’t a part of. He’d eat their leftovers and remain close to the bunch regardless of the social disconnect.

Wolf!Johnny was an aggressive beast who didn’t like even the birds after his meal until he was full. But he was a dirty thing—a tick infested mess from going out into the rough. No matter how much he scratched, they didn’t budge.

Corvid!Simon saw his snack in those ticks. He was quick about it, landing on Johnny just as he sat down to relax or eat and he’d unhook a tick before Johnny bucked him off. Growling and snarling, and he’d itch the open wound where the blood-thick tick had lived. Simon did this a few times before Johnny realized he was helping. It didn’t help the pain though. But being tick free was better than being constantly exhausted and hungry.

Wolf!Johnny benefits from Simon’s oversight. When Simon catches wind of a carcass, he’ll circle around it like a vulture and bring Johnny directly to it. Johnny always keeps on his toes, glancing up towards the black corvid so he doesn’t lose sight of him. Listening for the flutter of his wings. When Johnny cracks open the ribs of the carcass, Simon will feast on the still warm insides alongside him.

Corvid!Simon likes to pick at Johnny’s fur, taking out tuffs of his shedding coat and tuck it into a nest he’s made for himself if they stay in one place long enough. Johnny doesn’t mind but when the bird’s not careful, he’ll pull intact fur and Johnny snaps his jaws to bicker at the pesky corvid who should be careful.

Wolf!Johnny gets bored sometimes, and he’ll want to play with the smaller corvid despite his size. He pounces after the panicked bird, scaling trees to get at him, and flashing his belly and paws on his back as Simon wails and berates him.

When Simon gets bored, he’ll swoop down while Johnny is walking and clip his talons across his back. Pinching bits of fur and causing the wolf to yap and huff, being unable to catch the bird in flight. Or he’ll tug at the wolf’s tail, just to get him to move a little faster.

Johnny has kept the horned owl attacks at bay by just being around Simon, being his natural predator. But when the bird is alone, his first instinct is to dive for Johnny when he’s being targeted.

It’s not often, but Johnny will let the bird sit on his back when they’re moving. It’s more common for Simon to sit on his back when he’s sleeping with his face tucked into his wings. But considering Johnny is a rowdy sleeper, constantly shifting on his belly and kicking his feet—it’s more usual for Simon to sleep beside him.

I just love corvids and wolves and I needed to spew.

Fic masterlist

[forestshadow-wolf]

I am trying to overcome my social anxiety by interacting, so here is an idea.

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFSd3L47/

Raven shifter Ghost

Wolf shifter Soap

The family dynamic could be the mactavish family.

Hi! :D

Wait! Omg that's so genius!

It makes sense too because that's pretty much the dynamics that they have while on base or in the field, with Ghost being overwatch most of the time.

And then imagine soap bringing Ghost home to the family for the holidays. Pack hunting is a good form of bonding and communication upkeep in the pack. Imagine ghost helping them spot a herd of wild deer, then he stays back to watch over soaps neices and nephews and niblings

When the rest of the pack return, prey in paws (hehe get it - like hands) they find Raven!Ghost hopping around and playing with the pups

[designedparadigm]

"I swear on Veles if either of you continues to keep me up one more time, I'm literally going to put a curse on you at this point. The sleep paralysis does not appear to be working so I'm going with that." / @bruxsaria

   ghost  lets  out  a  derrisive  snort,  shaking  his  head  and  standing  up  to  walk  away  from  her.  it's  disrespect  mostly  that  has  him  doing  it  -  he'll  do  as  he  pleases.  soap  on  the  other  hand?  his  tail  tucks  between  his  legs  and  his  ears  flatten  onto  his  head.  thoe  beautiful  blues  of  his  are  wide  and  showing  off  the  sad  guilt  only  a  canine  can  manage.  whereas  ghost  has  fucked  off  -  soap  is  attempting  the  doggy  guilt  trip. 

[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.

[diejager]

Hi! In your Only Human AU what would happen if TF 141 + König and Horangi go into a something like a “rut”? Or is that possible in this universe? If it is would they ask Y/N for help? If possible can it be in the form of a Drabble🥺?

Rut Cw: rut/heat cycles, mention of sex, possessive behaviour, obsessiveness, mention of knotting, implied smut, tell me if I missed any.

Ruts were odd phenomenons, it reduced hybrids and monsters to desperate and horny men, clinging onto the person they considered their mate for relief and pleasure. Some hybrids had ruts, like canid and felid shifters or shifters in general, a monthly cycle that incapacitated them. Others were luckier, having a few ruts per year, sometimes once every few month or once a year; these could range from a dragon to a harpie or from a percht to a gorgon. There, however, were some exceptions, spectral beings and the undead were without ruts, their body long dead and able to function without it, yet they could impregnate and be impregnated as any other hybrid and monster could. They suffered from bouts of occasional arousal, little flares of pleasure when faced with a situation that turned them on or by strong emotions towards someone or something.

You were unfortunately enough to be thrown into a group of rutting hybrids - with the sole exception of Ghost - unprepared and without a forewarning on how to deal with them. You had to deal with a clingy werewolf, howling at the moon and whining in utter heartbreak because you told him off for humping your leg in the rec room, huffing and gasping down your neck. A hissing and possessive tiger, stalking you down the halls and jumping you whenever you were alone to ravage you against the wall, mouthing and nipping at your neck, making sure his scent would stick over the wolf and nagual musk. And a protective nagual, looming over you like a shadow, arm slung around your shoulder and ready to start a fight with the other shifters if they tried masking his scent.

Luckily, their ruts never overlapped, it might’ve been a fortunate coincidence, but one that you wouldn’t take for granted. You had a schedule drawn up in the first year after they accepted you into their pack, Soap’s was always after the full moon, the silver disk being the catalyst to his urge; Horangi had his in the later days of each month, oftentimes beginning on the last day of the werewolf’s rut; and Alejandro took the first week of the month, starting slowly on the third or fourth day and ramping up on the following day.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t put in consideration for the others. Price, Gaz and König also had their moments in the yearly cycle, falling victim to the throes of instinctual need. You thanked your lucky star that Gaz rutted once or twice a year - thrice on rare accounts - with little to no change in his character. He might’ve been more hands, wanting to keep a hand around your waist, to give you soft and loving kisses on your lips as much as he did on your cheek, nose and forehead.

Price and König were a handful, one hoarded you to his office and had you follow him wherever he went, and the other was deathly possessive and deep into his instincts. König was on the extreme side of his type, breaking out nearly six to seven times a year, stuck mid shift with broader shoulders, red eyes and a monstrous appearance, and he had half the mind to stay considerate to other. A danger stumbling on two feet. Price was the medium, a perfect balance with three or four ruts yearly and a the self control to let you go if the situation demanded it. Despite his self-control, he was still a dragon, controlling and possessive, ordering you to come straight back to him whether or not you were knotted to Soap or Rudy was balls deep inside of you.

Despite Rudolfo being considered a monster, he was simply a human with the ability to control cadejos, as vulnerable and as resilient as one. And being human meant that he got aroused, coaxing you into his room for the night and taking care of the heat brewing between your legs. Much like Rudy, Ghost retained his bodily function - human wise - and came back as a monster, but he was a stranger to ruts, scoffing at the neediness and vulnerability of one. That, however, never stopped him from indulging in his sexual kinks and dark fetishes, having you as the subject of his exploration if no one else hit their cycles.

They were a handful, from Soap’s mutt-like character to Rudy’s calm demeanour, they had you exhausted, wringing you dry and panting, always ending up face down or backed against the wall. You were grateful - truly - that the others would willingly jump in and take over for you, helping whoever it was spend his rut. Now, you’d have to redraw your calendar, tired and clinging to your bed to stand up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo

[designedparadigm]

   once  the  man  sits  down,  so  too  does  the  wolf.  when  he's  pet  -  the  tail  thumps  gently  against  the  ground.  a  soft  rr  rumbles  from  his  chest,  eyes  slipping  closed,  leaning  his  head  into  those  hands  giving  him  a  good  damn  scratch.  been  far  too  long  since  he'd  allowed  himself  proper  human  contact.  a  lot  of  his  life  had  been…  feral.  he'd  not  shifted  back  to  human  form  too  often,  leaned  into  the  wolf  instinct  and… 

   had  landed  in  a  trap.  could  have  died  for  it.  for  what?  being  a  runaway?  being  nervous  with  the  world?  with  himself?  he  wanted  a  fresh  start  -  yet  hid  away.  maybe…  he  didn't  have  to.  for  a  man  to  trust  a  wild  animal,  a  wolf  no  less,  and  one  of  his  size?  he  opens  his  eyes,  regarding  the  man  for  a  moment,  his  gaze  intense,  questioning.  do  i  trust  you? 

   “whuf.”  the  soft  bark  comes  again,  before  he  leans  his  face  close  up  to  the  mans,  brushing  his  nose  to  the  mans.  he  stays  like  that  for  a  moment,  before  sticking  his  tongue  out  and  dragging  it  across  the  mans  face.  he  pulls  his  head  back,  and  stares  at  him,  watching  for  the  reaction.  it's  an  affectionate  gesture  -  from  a  canine  anyway. 

arthur chuckles and nods. " okay, i'll leave them be, then. " strange, he usually feels tense around wolves, and wary. but with this one, he feels... safe. comfortable. he feels it's safe enough to assume the wolf won't attack or bite him. arthur had been kind to him that day he rescued him, so perhaps that's why? he chooses to believe that's what it is; it makes the most sense. because surely a wolf wouldn't understand him, right? not that he thinks they're stupid animals, god no, it just seems to him the wolf understands him more than any other would.

he thinks to head back into camp, or maybe at least invite the wolf back to his tent with him, but he sees it tilt its head and look up at him much the way a domesticated dog would and arthur stops himself from doing so. it was strange, seeing this just as strange wolf doing this with, well, any human in general. another chuckle leaves him now. " you wantin' pets now? " he feels even more sure that this is the case as the wolf stands and pushes his head against his hand. god damn, why does he have to be so cute? " all right, all right, i'll give you pets. you deserve it after bein' in that trap for god only knows how long. " arthur moves to sit down in the grass and reaches out for the wolf, running his fingers through his fur before one hand scratches under his chin and the other scratches behind his ear. " this what you want? yeah, i bet it is. i bet it's hard to get this from other people. hell, if not for findin' you like that, i probably would've told you to scram. then again, if we hadn't me that way, you wouldn't be here, would you? "

[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. 

[mizushibart]

Illustration i did for #SpookyGhoapExchange! for electric_blue on ghoap Discord <33

Knight Soap got lost in the forest~✨🌸 (dragon Ghost + wolf shifter Soap)