#werewolf soap
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More CoD sketches.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#cod ghost#cod#call of duty#nikprice#prikolai#captain john price#captain johnathan price#captain price#nikolai#cod nikolai#cod price#cod mwii#werewolf soap#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#sketches
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Soap is alright with Gaz making fun of him for his puppy like behaviour. He’s okay with Price calling him a mutt when he gets dirty paw prints all over the base hallways. He’s more than happy to obey when Ghsot whistles at him to sit or lay or move. Soap knows that werewolves are, at heart, dogs. They play, they chew up couches, they whine and argue with yippy barks, they make a mess with their thick fur and drool in their sleep. Try as he might to hate it, Soap knows that it’s natural for him to want to chase the large blue ball Gaz rolls down the hall way. He doesn’t care that he once broke his tail from wagging it so hard when he stole Price’s hat and made the older man chase him around the base.
But then….
It was a simple mission, something they had all done a hundred times over. Only this time, Soap was without his captain and his fellow Sargent and his collar felt too lose without Ghost pulling it around. Soap was fine with that, until he found himself working with a Lieutenant Manes. The man was alright, a good leader and quick thinker, but even upon meeting him Soap had a bad feeling.
The man didn’t tug at his collar like Ghost did, instead he pulled at Soap’s chin hair and growled at him to “stay the fuck down you overgrown dog”. He let out loud whistles and expected Soap to know what they meant, pushing him down by his snout when he hesitated as he tried to get a grasp on what he was asking. Manes threw a Grenade at some point and pinched Soaps ear, “that’s a grenade, mutt. Not a fucking toy, don’t chance it.” Soap had wanted to snap back that he was a demolition expert and knew the dangers of a grenade better than Manes, but as he realised the man was mocking him for a dogs love of playing fetch…
Soap came home from the mission and instantly Price was taking him out back and letting him shift into his smaller form, cupping his maw and patting his ears. Apparently another member of the 141, a goddamn rookie, had sent word to Price on the way back from the mission of how Manes had been treating their star wolf. Price let him sleep in his office that night, curled up at his feet while Gaz brushed his fur.
He didn’t ask where Ghost was, already knowing the answer.
#modern warfare#john soap mactavish#captain price#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish angst#simon ghost riley#werewolf soap#can be read as#poly 141#ghost x soap#soap x price#soap x gaz#soap x everyone
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NSFW How to keep your werewolf happy Guide 01
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART ?
NOTICE; TOP/DOM Male Hybrid Reader
CHARACTER; Sub/Bottom Soap
CW; Scent Kink, cock warming, face fucking.
ADDITIONAL; I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.
INSPIRATION; @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr
NOTE; This will be a mini series staring our favorite little hybrids. Part ? Will be a poll of a repeat character or a non 141 character.
It isn't a surprise as your working away at your office, hands slow yet steady as you finish off writing the recent report about Captain Price's mission hours prior. You helped out this way when you weren't needed for a mission or on heat/rut leave. In this case, there was simply no need today. And you were fine with that. You could easily relax to the sound of nothing but yourself.
Well. That's what it was before. Usually, you're quite familiar with who's outside your door, with how specific everyone is in their own knocks, Gaz and his light yet solid knocks, Price and his rougher yet slowed pace knocks, and Ghost, who of course, doesn't always give the courtesy of knocking, only knowing it bugs you, after all.
But It was was when a sudden knock and a quick opening that left you rather less time to say 'come in' and more confusion as who the fuck could be disturbing you so suddenly. Sour words lay on your tongue until you saw your mate. Soap looked tired and seemingly agitated as he walked over, his eyes not bothering to look at you as he moved you and your chair and found himself slumped to his knees beneath the desk. His face by your belt, his tail seeming limp.
"Soap? What happened out there?" You ask, your voice laced with mild concern. It's rare to see him all beat up like this, his tail left with weak attempts at a wag and his ears folded back, and your eyes soften. "Soap, pup, speak to me." You coo softly as your hand cups his chin. He looks up at you, his eyes gentle, and he nuzzles into it. "M'rough day ou' in tha field." Is all he speaks out. It seems the day weighing on his shoulders. "M'don wanna think." He whispers, and you know what to do.
You allow yourself out of your belt, the sound leaves Soap perking up slightly and watching, his eyes looking down at your cock. And soon enough, you're somewhat out of your boxers, and Soap looks up as if awaiting an okay to his favorite treat. "Go ahead." You murmur, stroking a hand through his hair, and he happily goes down on you, sloppy wet tongue sliding up and down your cock, moaning at how it makes his mind all fuzzy and soft with no thought in mind.
Your touches begin soft, caring and loving as you whisper praise. It's only soon enough that you begin fucking his face, guiding his head up and down it with your hand as you grunt out. And Soap has no complaints as you do, sucking away eagerly as drool slips down his reddened lips.
The smell of your musk from previous training earlier drives him mad, eyes eagerly looking up at you for your approval, as his tail wacks the inside of the desk with each wag. His mouth stuffed full of the cock he loves so much.
He was quick to move his mouth up and down, tongue lapping at it as if you were the sweetest treat.
Constantly looking up to you for praise or your loving eyes, and a rumbling purr each time you caressed his hair, the scratch behind his ear making him melt.
Panting as he pulls off and a string of drool and whatnot is left, he looks up and smiles in baited breath. The little spot in his cargo pants dripping cum is enough to tell you, you've done a good job.
"M'gonna cum pup, you ready?" You ask of him in deep pants, and he nods quickly, moving his pace right down to the base of your cock, his hands fondling your balls a little as he tries to chase your sweet release. And with each push of your hand on his head, he remains at the base of your cock until you've finished, his mouth stays on until he swallowed it all.
He looks up at you, his breathing a little heavy as his lips were still wrapped around your cock.
But, reports are still reports. So you offer Soap to cock warm you for the remainder of the afternoon. And that's something Soap is sure to agree too.
Aftermath;
Price is quick to not open the door at a mere wiff of passing by your office. But he isn't denying that he's had a thought of doing so..
#john soap mactavish#cod#cod mw2#soap x reader#male reader#soap x male reader#werewolf soap#alistair writes ☕️#top reader#dom reader#sub soap
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Imagine: werewolf Ghost turning Soap to save his life.
The mission to find Makarov goes to shit. Ghost isn’t there in time to prevent Soap from being shot. He is there in time to see Makarov fire a bullet straight through Soap’s skull, to see his beloved sergeant crumple to the ground like a sack of bricks.
He’s over to Soap’s side in a flash, clutching him close and calling his name frantically as the blood pours out. Soap is quickly dying, and there’s nothing he can do.
No, there’s one thing.
He shifts faster than he ever has in his life, in less than thirty seconds. A werewolf’s bite does nothing unless they’re in their wolf form. His clothes and gear are torn to shreds, and he pays no mind to Gaz and Price nearby as he grabs Soap’s arm, and, in a fit of desperation, sinks his teeth in.
It was the one thing he vowed he would never do. He would never turn a human. But he can’t let Soap go, he can’t just not do the one thing that could save his life. With a werewolf’s superior healing, Soap might have a chance.
Soap doesn’t die, but it’s a damn near thing. They take him to a nearby hospital, get him admitted and under the care of multiple doctors.
That was three days ago. It’s common knowledge that a human bitten by a shifted werewolf would turn within three days, and Ghost hopes that Soap is still unconscious when it happens, because the first time is a terrifying, painful process. He had been turned by Roba in his twenties. All day, he watches Soap carefully, but the man shows no signs of waking up from his medically induced coma.
Soap doesn’t wake up for another two weeks. When he does, he’s confused and utterly disoriented, and doesn’t recognize Ghost or the rest of the 141. Ghost pretends it doesn’t hurt. Even so, Ghost tells him that he had bitten Soap to save him, and Soap understands, is grateful even, thanking Ghost.
Despite his initial condition, Soap’s healing is remarkable. After a week, he recognizes his comrades again, and seems to be relieved of some of the confusion he had experienced. The wound near his temple begins to close up.
Ghost spends most of his days in Soap’s room. That room is where Soap and Ghost share their first kiss, Soap’s shaking hands grasping at Ghost’s jacket as their lips meet, Ghost whispering a soft Johnny against his lips.
Soap healed extraordinarily well, but even the healing powers of a werewolf can’t fully diminish the off and on numbness in his limbs, tremors, mood swings, and brain fog.
They medically discharge him.
Soap goes home to Scotland, and Ghost follows. For a week, they settle in, but Soap shows no signs of transforming, despite his apparent possession of a werewolf’s regenerative abilities.
It’s a good day when Soap shifts for the first time. He’s bright and happy, like the sergeant Ghost knew before, and his confusion is almost entirely gone. His tremors lessen, and Soap hasn’t complained of the numbness that sometimes annoyed him.
What he does complain about is the sudden onset of a full-body ache, as if his bones themselves are throbbing. He becomes suddenly irritable, clawing at his skin and hair and pacing, snapping at Ghost and groaning in pain.
These are signs he knows. Soap’s going to transform, and he’s going to transform quick now that it’s set in.
“Ghost, w-what do I do?!” Soap stammers, looking like he’s trying not to panic, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He’s never seen Soap panic before.
“Just relax, Johnny,” Ghost says soothingly, because he knows there’s nothing he can do other than support him. Nothing can stop lycanthropy except death. “It’ll be alright.”
“It hurts!” Soap cries out sharply, and then his cry becomes a choked sound not unlike a growl. He drops to his knees and hunches over, putting his hands on his head and gripping his hair between his fingers.
And then he starts to shift.
His mouth elongates into a snarling muzzle, baring sharp white canines, his ears lengthen and migrate to the top of his head, and the hair he’s holding between his fingers turns into fur. Soap sobs and says something that sounds like Ghost’s name, but then his vocal chords change, too, and it turns into a throaty bark. His spine and bones lengthen and grow denser, his fingernails morph into sharp claws, and a tail grows out of his spine as patches of fur grow over his skin.
It’s a few harrowing moments filled with Soap’s agonized cries and whines that make up Soap’s first shift. Ghost knows the feeling, and his stomach knots with sympathy. His own first shift had been one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.
Now fully shifted, Soap is huge, easily eight feet tall when standing upright, with a brown pelt just like his hair, a stripe along his back, long limbs, sharp claws, and a fluffy tail. His wild blue eyes, alight with fear, fixate on Ghost. Ghost tenses, nearly expecting Soap to try to attack him. He knows Soap could rip him apart before he’d have the chance to shift and fight back. That’s what he did to Roba, after all.
Soap does no such thing.
Instead, Soap lets out a whimper and curls in on himself, his tail going between his legs and his claws digging scratches into the floor. He doesn’t look like an eight foot tall killing machine, he looks like a kicked puppy.
“Johnny?” Ghost says quietly.
Soap’s blue eyes glance over to him, and he lets out another pleading whimper. His eyes hold a look of betrayal, of sorrow, of why me? His jaws open and something strangled comes out, like Soap’s trying to speak, but Ghost knows that they can’t, not in this form.
“Oh, Johnny,” he murmurs, and cautiously steps forward. He knows it’s dangerous to get in another werewolf’s space like this, but it’s Soap. When it comes to Soap, all rational thoughts fly out the window.
He reaches forward and gently touches Soap’s arm. Soap stiffens, and Ghost thinks he’s fucked up big time until Soap stumbles onto his hind legs, nuzzles into the crook of Ghost’s neck, and wraps his arms around Ghost. His claws catch on Ghost’s clothing and dig in as he grips Ghost tightly, and Ghost is momentarily stunned. He had acted in no such manner the first time he had shifted.
“See, Johnny? I told you it’d be alright,” Ghost says softly when he gets over his brief moment of surprise.
Soap stays shifted for the rest of the day, and shifts back as soon as his body is able.
It’s from there that Ghost teaches Soap how to handle his werewolf form. He transforms with Soap often, and they travel through the fields near Soap’s cabin, wrestle, play, and bond.
Ghost has never felt as understood or happy in his entire life. It’s a good life, what they’ve made for themselves.
#Wrote this in like an hour#The original plan was that Soap got stabbed but then MWIII came out lol#call of duty#cod#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghoap#soapghost#ghostsoap#werewolf soap#werewolf ghost#werewolves#drabble#lemonwrap writes#lame ending sorry guys
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Drunken thoughts
#I’ll probably redraw this#ghost using his teeth as a straw#ghostsoap#ghoap#soapghost#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#soap cod#ghost cod#call of duty#vampire ghost#werewolf soap
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I'm having a soft spot for werewolf soap. He isnsuch a puppy for you, full of joy and jumping around and playfull and loves yo wrap himself arround you and suffocate you with his thick fur
And then turns around andis absolutely feral , growling and staking his claims and will rip someone to shreds if needed.
Also just the imagie of a large wolf basically smirking is just to adorkable
I'm so here for bouncy enthusiastic puppy Soap who turns feral as soon as you're in danger.
It’s from one moment to the next that it happens
You’re clearing the route through the jungle with Soap at your side, a routine patrol on the outer perimeter of the temporary camp you and the team have set up in the days-long pursuit of the Narco cell that was responsible for the assassination of a politician. They’d fled into the thick foliage of the dense underbrush, and you and the team had quickly moved to follow, Los Vaqueros alongside you.
If Soap loved his job on a regular mission, this now seems to be the epitome of excitement for him. Besides having the pleasure to work alongside Ale and Rudy again, the thrill of the hunt itself is addictive to the shifter’s senses. The hum of life in the canopy, the lush scent of greenery, the spongy earth under his feet make the Scotsman practically bounce beside you, eyes glimmering and voice a vibrant cheer.
He bumps up against you, overexcited, nose brushing under your jaw, fangs just barely poking out in his enthusiasm. He’s paying less attention to the perimeter around you both and more to you, affectionate and adoring with his mate.
“Down, puppy.” You try for the third time, hands raising to gently push him off of you, and Soap whines at that, big beautiful blue eyes pouting.
“Only for a few minutes.” He pleads again. “Just a little jog cannae hurt, we won’t be long. Promise.”
“We have to finish our patrol first.” You chide not for the first time, and he grumbles at you in disappointment. Yet he doesn’t argue, knows that the job always comes first and foremost. Work before play.
He opens his mouth to say something else- likely to snark at you, but then he pauses. You see it in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate as his super-human hearing picks up on something distant.
“Soap?” You ask, quieter, concerned. Yet he doesn’t answer, not as his head whips towards the direction of the jungle and he doesn’t even breathe.
“Down!” He bellows, voice thunderous just as gunfire explodes from the ferns, and you yelp as suddenly his form barrels into yours, pressing you down into the soft dirt as bullets fly overhead.
You curse, try and twist from under him to return fire but Soap suddenly snarls, loud enough to make your heart stammer. His form hovers over you, braced on his elbows with his face just millimeters from your own.
It’s always his eyes that change first when Johnny shifts, going from baby blue to yellow in a matter of seconds as his body begins to transform- broadening, widening, bones cracking as they break and reform in the span of only seconds. You don’t understand how he manages the pain of his entire body re-writing itself, and now with his face contorted into something no less than fury, you remember at once just how deadly the werewolf above you truly is.
Mere moments, before Soap’s muzzle elongates and his fangs drip with pooling, hungry saliva onto your face, his shoulders drawing close, growing to accommodate his massive size, claws forming from his fingernails near your head. His gear and clothes shred as he shifts, ribboned into rags by his towering form.
“Stay.” Is all he tells you, his voice ringing clear in your mind as a trembling growl drops deep from the hollow of his chest. It’s the only warning you get before he launches himself in the direction of your attackers, and there’s screams at the sudden massive form that snarls and hurdles towards them with the intent of utter destruction.
It’s only when you try to shift and follow that you notice the bloody gash in your leg, rendered by a bullet that you couldn’t quite miss. You hiss at the pain, draw the leg up to your chest even as blood stains the fabric of your pants, pools across your gloved fingertips. It’s enough to distract you even as the radio erupts with chatter from Price and the others, pounding in your ears as you attempt to press down on the wound.
You don’t even notice the rest of the jungle go quiet until a looming shadow falls across you. You look up to see Soap’s huge yellow eyes, the blood caking his maw as he nudges at you, scruff still bristled with a still coiled energy from his carnage. You raise a bloody hand to the side of his face, and your wolf makes a little whine at the touch, concerned, upset, frenetic.
When there’s a rustle from the bushes, Soap snarls, the sound entirely feral, animalistic like the untamed creature that he is. Paws plant on either side of your form, shielding you from view as he turns in the direction of those that dare approach. Head hanging low in warning, blood dripping from his fangs, Soap issues only one, savage warning to those that venture too close to his injured mate.
“Mine.”
#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#werewolf soap#drabbles#requests
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prompt from @dhampiravidi
“I've read lots of Werewolf!Soap, but what about him meeting Vampire!Ghost? Especially when Simon's recently turned & supernaturals are still a secret to humans?”
-
Just when Simon thought he couldn’t get any more alone in this world, he discovers that he is now immortal, and with a bloodlust that is decidedly not normal.
It’s just his luck, really. Between being tortured, buried alive, losing his family, being legally dead—somehow this has to be the worst of it all. Because it means living with his faults forever, and that has to be just the picture perfect idea of his kind of hell.
Who would have thought that this was the universe in which vampires—or some semblance of them—are real? Certainly not Simon.
And as he barely learns to cope with his newfound appetite and the abilities that come with it, he wishes he could have remained a little more ignorant, and a little more human.
Because becoming a vampire, as it turns out, meant barely scratching the surface of everything supernatural he had never been privy to, in his multiple decades on earth.
*
Born and raised a werewolf, John has always been well-immersed (and versed) in the world of the supernatural.
And being so, John thinks it’s very possible he realizes that Simon Riley is a vampire before the man himself does. Or, at the very least, John is first to understand what Simon is.
Because, in all honesty, Simon carries himself like someone who doesn’t quite know how to consume blood more so than spill it. That, and he stinks like the undead to John’s sensitive nose.
So, meeting him is quite an… event.
But it’s also a pleasant coolness to a bright heat, two fanged grins even when one is obscured. John can imagine Simon’s nose wrinkling beneath his mask at the werewolf’s scent, as if he’d never realized there was anything unlike him that wasn’t human.
It’s funny. Comical, even, when John indulges Simon in the otherworldly. But the naivety is also sweet in the way someone as imposing as Simon has no right to be.
And if a little later down the line, John tells Simon that werewolf blood is better than anything a human could provide, then, well. It’s no one’s business but John’s, and Simon’s enthusiasm about not having to find strangers to get himself fed.
#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#soap mw2#ghost x soap#ghoap#soapghost#ghostsoap#vampire ghost#werewolf soap#writing
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me when,,,,,me whenenn mw hehn im obsessed with werewolf!Soap hgnnnghnh
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghost x soap#werewolves#werewolf soap#cod ghost#cod soap
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Thanks to @deadbranch and her ridiculously amazing series lore on 'Midnight in a Perfect World', I am now imagining Soap as a full-blooded Scottish werewolf.
And I'm going fucking feral.
Jesus turning into a pterodactyl and flying off a cliff Christ!
#deadbranch#why you do this to me#i could drain the great lakes with my thirst right now#werewolf soap#johnny soap mactavish#john mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish
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More puppy Soap.
#sketches#his wolf is a certified therapy dog#there are no thoughts behind those eyes#werewolf soap#cod#johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghost#soap#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#cod mwii#call of duty#modern warfare ii
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Got some spice up on my twt.
Werewolf Soap and cat hybrid Ghost :3c
(might have to be logged in to see it, twt is being weird)
#fanart#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghostsoap#werewolf#hybrid#shameless smut#call of duty#cod mw2#modern warfare#werewolf soap#cat ghost
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Had to draw the pups from my fic Called Home to the Depths of the Forest
Also bonus puppy pile
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Monster 141 where Soap is a werewolf and hunts food for his Vampire lover Ghost as a courting ritual only for Price to watch a news segment about dozens of farmers livestock going missing over the previous few months.
#john soap mactavish#modern warfare#ghost x soap#captain price#werewolf soap#vampire ghost#monster 141
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can you expand on werewolf!soap a bit more please 🥰🥰🥰
Okay so I can't say much more without mentioning "Blood Like Salvation" by Bennyhatter on Ao3. It's part of a VERY long CoD Shifter AU but gods above it has painted the way I see werewolf 141.
Soap craves violence, licks it clean off his fingers and savors the taste when he's allowed to unleash his wolf. There's a hunger there that can't be quenched, and in his wildest state he drinks down the blood of enemies to slake his thirst. He's a force of nature, feral, primal, a thing that can't be tamed. He subsists on adrenaline, on the crunch of bones and the deafening roar of explosions which makes his eardrums pop from the force. It glimmers in his eyes, shows in the wild grin that reveals his fangs. He's almost manic with it, uses the thrill to dry and drown the persistent ache inside of him.
Yet then there's you, no less feral in some regards but more fragile, breakable in the way he is not. It forces a tenderness from you he wants to bury himself in, tilting his head into your open palm and drooping his huge, furry head onto your lap. When the adrenaline fades, when he comes crashing down, you catch him, hold him as he sighs into your skin. Johnny swears there's a wolf inside you also, with your glimmering gaze and hungry eyes. He tastes it in the harsh clack of your teeth against his, the half-moon crescent dug into his shoulders, the bruises that litter his chest when he leaves your bed. Yet there's a gentleness you reserve only for him, because in your heart you too are a creature of violence. You're the same, two things only half completed, seeking a path of carnage as a way to tame the wildness in your hearts.
#werewolf soap#soap x reader#werewolf!soap#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#x reader#Just some thoughts#drabbles
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Wanted some genuine horror for Halloween sooo werewolf Soap propaganda with reverse transformation. What if instead of the wolf bursting out from within you, You crawl into its Skin?
One of us One of Us One Of Us...
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