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greatstormcat · 3 months

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Of Wolf And Man - The Blood Moon

PolyTF141 x f!reader

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, monster fucking, period sex and discussion of periods, masturbation, p in v

You were warm, too warm, sweat prickling along your back and making it stick to the bed sheet below you. Spending the night with the Pack was becoming a more regular event now, but you still made sure you returned to the cottage and your own space more often than not. Last night it had been raining, drops flying through the trees almost sideways, and there was no point in getting soaked and muddy, so you’d happily stayed put. The pack share a single, huge sleep platform that was made by Price’s hands years ago. Being nestled in the midst of their bodies was a little overwhelming to start with, but it was now the most comforting thing you could imagine. It was also interesting when anyone was feeling a little amorous, that feeling usually spilling over to the others without fail. A dozing pile of semiconscious werewolves becoming a mound of caressing hands and hungry lips was an unearthly experience.

Now, though, you were too hot to stand the close contact, and a deep, creeping discomfort in your lower abdomen suggestd why. You sneak quietly to the bathroom, trying hard not to rouse the others, and confirm your theory with a quick swipe of tissue. Your period. As quietly as you can you pull on your jeans, stuffing your underwear with a wad of tissue from the bathroom, fumbling with your bra over your sore breasts and cursing as a cramp digs its fingers into you making you drop your boots. You pull your top on and pick up your bag, planning to head back to the cottage and get some supplies before coming back. The idea of cuddling with them through this is highly appealing, but bleeding all over your clothes and their furniture isn’t. You’ll just leave a note and maybe even be back before they notice you’ve gone.

“Where are you going, love?” Price asks roughly as you head towards the bedroom door, bag over your shoulder and a frown knitting your brows together. It never fails that if you go near that door one of them notices and asks, but never does anything as crass as trying to stop you. They’d been extra physical the last day or so, more protective and watchful, almost trying to keep you in constant physical contact.

“I need to go back home,” you explain, huffing a little at getting caught, pain stabbing low in your abdomen. “You don’t understand, I need my… stuff. My period just started.” You are not sure if you’re sharing too much information, certainly with a bunch of men, even if they were werewolves. He chuckles and gets up from the bed, padding over to you on bare feet and totally nude, just like the rest of them.

“I know, I can smell it on you,” he says, moving closer to you until he is almost touching you with his chest and your back bumps against the still closed door. Your skin prickles as he leans closer, the faintest scrape of his beard touching your neck as he leans in and inhales. “It’s coming off you in waves, the whole place smells of you right now, smelling like….” he trails off, not finishing the thought out loud but you see the faint shiver that ripples through his muscles at whatever it is he thinks.

“Is it that bad?” You ask faintly, feeling a spell being woven over you. The other three are watching from the bed now they’re awake too, drawn in by whatever dark thing is happening before them.

“You’re bleeding in our den, making it yours just by being here when you’re most vulnerable,” Price answers, almost curling himself around you so he can run his nose along the skin behind your ear. “Trusting us to protect you like this,” his voice drops to a deep growl on the last few words, you almost expect to feel his tongue against your skin but he holds himself back, barely. Simon has stood up and taken a step forward, Kyle and Johnny poised on the edge of the bed, clearly tense and ready to move at the slightest provocation. The air ripples with an electricity you’ve never felt before, the scent of your menstrual blood driving the four werewolves into a highly protective state.

“Does it hurt?” Price asks you, drawing your attention back to him.

“Hmmm?” You ask, struggling to pull your eyes from the others. The feeling that if you look away they’re going to pounce, thrums through your veins. Price takes your chin in his fingers and tilts your head to look at him.

“Are you in pain?” he repeats himself with the patience of a rock, pupils wide as his eyes bore into you. You give a small nod in answer, and his mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. If you weren’t so close to him you probably wouldn’t have noticed the twitch in his expression. “Then you’re not leaving here,” he says firmly. “Tell us what you need, we’ll go and get it for you and bring it back.”

It's Simon and Johnny that volunteer to go, and you tell him what you need and where it is in your cottage, glad there aren’t many places for them to have to look and the fact they know it inside and out. They leave with your key and backpack, and Price guides you back towards the bed.

With a firm hand Price pushes you down onto the mattress, and he pulls your boots off, coaxing you to move into the middle of the soft space amidst the various pillows and blankets once more. The earthy, comforting smell of them always hits you hard here, drawing you in and pulling you under into comforting bliss. Kyle crawls up beside you, and you're soon sandwiched between them, Price’s hands moving to the waistband of your jeans and pulling at the buttons to undo them.

“Wait… I…” you start to say, insecurities about your body rushing to the surface and threatening to burst the soft bubble you’re floating in. Periods are meant to be reviled, hidden, aren’t they? So why are they treating you like a revered goddess?

“Hush now, I’m not trying anything on. Just getting you comfortable,” he says softly but with a firmness that leaves you without any doubts that you can trust him. Your jeans are peeled away, and you have to admit it feels better not having the waistband jabbing into your bloated stomach.

It’s shockingly fast how quickly Simon and Johnny return with you things, they had to have sprinted the entire way there and back on all four paws. You change into more comfortable clothing, a loose old t-shirt, and take some paracetamol, waiting for the cramps to subside.

“There’s a quicker way to take the edge off the pain,” Johnny says as he lays at the corner of the bed, caught between shapes and slowly wagging his tail back and forth.

“What’s that?” You ask curiously.

“Orgasm, hen,” he says with a sharp toothed grin, and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline.

“What? You’re kidding,” you laugh.

“Relaxes the muscles and releases those feel good chemicals in the brain,” he insists. You look at the others, and realise they all seem to be in agreement.

“Well… I….” you stammer, unsure what to say next. How could the situation get any weirder though? “What about the mess?” You ask lamely.

“You’ve seen us coming back from a hunt often enough, d’you think we care about getting a little blood on us?” Simon counters from where he is lounging beside Johnny. Its true, you’ve seen them when they’ve hunted down and killed a deer more than once while you’ve known them, and whilst you had opted not to watch them eat it raw you saw the aftermath and felt the aftereffect of the high they rode as a result. You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment at such a childish question.

“Hey, stop worrying about it. If you don’t want to do it we are not going to force the issue,” Simon continues, but ultimately you agree to put your trust in them once again.

You insist on towels being put down despite them saying they don’t mind the mess, and you are soon stripped down, gently cradled underneath Kyle at Price’s insistence. If Johnny is put out by this, he is quickly over it as he watches, eyes rapt as Kyle kisses your neck until your eyelids flutter shut. Simon joins him, a heavy arm draped over the smaller man’s shoulder possessively.

“Just tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?” Kyle whispers against your collarbone, kissing and nipping at it. “Rub your clit for me, nice and slow.”

“I will,” you promise him, swallowing nervously as he nudges your aching thighs open with his knees. The scent must be incredibly strong to them, as all four inhale sharply, a collective growl rolling through the air around you, and you can’t help but feel a rush of heat in response. When you touch your clit, it's already sensitive from your arousal and the effects of your period and you hiss in a sharp breath at the buzz it gives you.

“Fuck… you smell so good,” Kyle whispers, kissing your cheek and hair. “So good.” You tilt your hips, pressing against the fat tip of his cock as your cramps war against your need, clit aching deliciously as you rub it.

“Please,” you beg, and he rumbles a deep moan in response, gently easing into you, finding little resistance thanks to the extra, bloody lubrication. The dull ache you were feeling changes into a different sensation as his cock massages the muscles of your walls, the steady grinding of his hips bringing blessed relief.

“How’s that feel, hmmm?” He breaths, and you moan wantonly, nodding your head.

“Yeah… better…” you sigh dreamily, your free palm sliding up the hard planes of his chest, and then curling your fingers until the blunt edges of your nails bite into his skin. “Much… much better.”

His pace is gentle, a tender and sensual rolling of his hips that sends sparks along your nerves, chasing the pain away and replacing it with a deep, warming pleasure.

“Good boy, Kyle,” you hear Price rumble, almost purring close to your ear before he presses against your side. He fists his cock slowly, almost in sync with Kyle’s thrusts, and presses kisses against your neck and throat. Where Simon and Johnny are, it’s hard to tell, but soft grunts and wet sounds suggest they are occupied nearby. “Remember, don’t knot her. It’ll hurt too much right now,” he guides the younger werewolf, looking at you with hooded, hungry eyes.

“Yeah, got it. She feels so good,” Kyle groans, his hips curling and grinding into you, wet sounds accompanying the laboured breaths from you both. You find yourself bucking your hips as the buzzing in your muscles coalesces into a hot ball, a tension building in you that needs to be released.

“Shit…” you mutter, legs sawing against the sides of Kyle’s hips, as you chase that sensation, clinging to it with desperation. Your fingers slide back and forth over your clit, faster and faster until Price pulls away your hand, replacing it with his thick, weathered fingers to slow you down.

“Relax, don’t rush to the finish line,” he murmurs, and when you let out a frustrated whine he kisses you. His tongue slides against yours roughly, hinting at his need under his control, and you push the fingers of one hand into his hair while you kiss. Your hand grasps onto Kyle as he continues to slowly fuck you, and the trembling of his muscles under your palm tells you he is working hard to not pound mercilessly into you like he usually does.

A muffled curse hints at more passion being shared between Simon and Johnny, another overspill of desire, and the sounds that follow only add to the fire building inside of you.

“I… I can’t stop it…” Kyle rasps, and you can feel the swelling starting to build at the base of his shaft, his knot growing and pulling at you already.

“You’ll have to let me take over then, pup,” Price tells him with a breathless grin, using his broad shoulders to nudge Kyle aside. When Kyle pulls out, you’re left feeling empty and the lack of his body heat over your abdomen is jarring until Price takes his place.

Price doesn’t have Kyle’s length but he is thicker, and there’s a tender stretch as he slowly splits your bloodied folds open, rocking his hips to completely wrap you around his length and pick up where Kyle left off. A high pitched whine bubbles up your throat as you have to readjust, your orgasm fading slightly and the hint of pain worming its way back through.

“Shhh… it's okay, I know,” he soothes you, draping his heavy chest over your body. The hair on his chest tickles your overly sensitive nipples and you twitch slightly as he cocoons you in his arms. As soon as your muscles relax, the discomfort recedes and the delicious pleasure returns, riding the thrusts of his length inside you.

Kyle rolls onto his back with a petulant groan, displeased at having to pull himself from you, crimson streaks adorning his engorged dick which he begins to stroke desperately. You can smell that faint tang of iron in the air, the thing that’s been driving the Pack wild since you got out of bed. Whatever Simon and Johnny are doing, you can feel the counter rhythm of it throw the mattress, a heavy but steady sound accompanying it along with moans and grunts.

Your orgasm builds, a flood behind a dam ready to break, washing away all concerns and doubts you had about sharing your body with them. With your legs hooked around Price’s waist, you pull yourself harder onto his cock, refusing to follow the gentle pace he has tried to maintain, and he has the good grace to take the hint. With a few more hard, sharp thrusts, he sends you wailing into your release sending spasms of heaven through your aching body.

Gasping for air you float back into your body, a pleasant tingle singing through your muscles instead of the tired ache you woke up with. You roll your eyes over to Kyle just in time to see him spill cum across his knuckles in thick ropes, and you tighten again around Price’s dick, still inside you.

“You okay there?” He asks softly, kissing your forehead and then nose. Perspiration glistens on his forehead as he looks down at you with concern in his eyes.

“I feel wonderful,” you breathe, and kiss his lips. The wet feeling between your thighs is no matter as they continue to accept it so easily.

“Good, you ready for more? Then we’ll get you some breakfast,” he grins. Whatever reply you were going to give him does in your throat as he starts to move his hips again.

—————————————————————-

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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look Hal, as much as I fucking DESPISE soap’s death.. i am in need of a fic where price delivers his wife his tags. pls, i need to be hurt again by you 🥲🥲🥲 (ik reqs are closed honestly im just hoping to put an idea in your head fjfhsjfh sorry)

A short drabble to make your pain worse, dear anon:

You stare blankly at the finely dressed man on the doorstep, a black leather box in his hands.

It isn’t a stare that can be defined on any level of emotion—nothing shown on a face in a time such as this can be. Some instances transcend any known sense and logic; all perceived ability to understand leaks out of a brain like water in a blown dam.

There wasn’t an explanation for this.

John looked on, and he started to speak as if you’d never known each other. As if your Johnny hadn't had him and the rest over for your engagement party—as if he hadn’t watched you pour him tea and smile softly in thanks as Johnny’s arm snaked around your shoulders.

“On behalf of the 23rd Regiment of the Special Air Service,” you don’t even blink. “I, Captain John Price of the 22nd, offer my—”

“Stop.” Your voice is shaky, and your hands are clammy on the door knob. The man can’t look at you. He clears his throat, blue eyes blinking at you; so similar to Johnny’s and yet never the same at all.

“...My deepest condolences—”

“John!” Your voice moves in a sharp yell, taking a single step forward. “Stop it!”

A heavy silence falls like a hammer.

Your lips open and close, stuttering. Where were the words? What could you say? The tightness of your chest crashes down on you; a cinder block of ruthless realization.

Your husband was never coming home.

Hand snapping up to your mouth, you stifle a loud sob that rips through your lungs, shoulders hunching in.

“Where is he?” You gasp, tears flying down your face. “John, dammit, where is he?!”

For once in your life, of all the times you’d spoken to him, the Captain had no answer. Blue eyes stay stuck on you, box outstretched on hands that you see quiver for a moment—a clench of his bearded jaw and a movement of his head to the side.

Like some cruel joke, you laugh through the bouts of sobs, unbelieving.

“John,” you plead, barely able to see or get the words out. “Please tell me where he is. He has to come back home to me. John,” you move forward, grasping his shoulder, digging your nails in as if to wrench soil out of a burial plot. It’s frantic how you speak—all gasps and desperate whines to a God who isn’t listening to you. “I need him. H-he promised me he would come back. I-I…” You struggle to breathe.

“Love,” John grits out, forcing his tongue to move. His eyes are pained, but never, never as much as yours are. It’s said on a low and defeated breath. “I couldn’t save him.”

You collapse as his arm, which snaps to circle you and tries to keep you up as you wail in agony. Tears stain John’s uniform and the neighbors come outside at the ruckus of a woman who just had her heart ripped out with a rusted knife.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, throat tight. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry.”

But you can’t answer, because the only thing you have left of Johnny are pieces of blood-splattered metal and memories.

And one day, you’d forget the sound of his voice—the way he touched you; how it felt to be kissed and held and loved so fiercely as if on fire. A blaze of devotion, yourself covered in gasoline; eager to be burned by a man you’d skin yourself for only three more minutes with, if that was all that could be spared.

You plead for it in John’s arms—scream for it. Three more minutes. Three more seconds.

If not that, then just three last kisses.

Johnny was dead, and everyone, especially the man trying to keep you from hitting the ground; taking the hits you lay on his arm numbly, knew that you had died with him.

The tags of a man long past glint in the setting sun.

#cod mwiii spoilers #mwiii spoilers #halcyone answers #cod x reader #cod #cod x you #x female reader #call of duty x you #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #cod x female reader #tw death #tw blood

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