There’s nothing the 141 boys love more than a fat pussy. Like I’m talking no thigh gap, thick thighs, cushioning and hiding your pussy away nice and snug until they open your legs to eat you up. They’ll thank you for keeping their meal warm too.
Better yet if they’re fucking you. Holding your legs together and pushing your knees to your chest so they can watch your juicy pussy take them nice and deep.
They love when you wear bikinis, tight little shorts, anything that frames your pussy nice and pretty when you bend over.
Pussy jobs 100 percent. They love slotting their thick cocks between your puffy pussy folds and watching how cute it looks getting teased.
You bet they have cheeky little polaroids of you bending over with a cute shy expression on your face showing off your pussy. And don’t be surprised if they share them with the rest of the team 🫣
IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.
Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems
A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.
—
The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.
The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.
In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.
But as always, life in jail still sucked.
You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.
“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.
Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.
The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.
“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.
“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.
Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”
She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.
“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.
“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.
“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”
Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”
“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.
“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”
“And the catch of this job?”
Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”
You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?
“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”
Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.
“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”
Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.
The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.
“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.
“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”
Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.
There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.
“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”
Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”
—
The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.
A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.
“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.
“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.
You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.
“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”
You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.
The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”
You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”
Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”
“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.
The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.
“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.
“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”
“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.
The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.
You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.
“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.
“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.
“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”
“Thought you said I got no money.”
“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.
“And I walk free.”
Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”
You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.
“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.
“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”
“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.
“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.
“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”
Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.
Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.
You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.
“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.
“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.
“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.
You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.
“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.
He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.
You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.
“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.
“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”
You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”
“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”
You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.
The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.
The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.
It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.
“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.
You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.
The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.
Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.
“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.
“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.
She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.
“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.
Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.
“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.
“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.
“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.
Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.
“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.
You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”
COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22
Skin - [John Price x F!Reader]
cw: smut, oral (f recieving), p-in-v, lover boy John Price is my personal fav
There's fucking and then there's loving, and when you'd first started dating John, you thought, personally, that he would be more privy to the former as opposed to the latter.
It was a read, an assumption you made from how he looked: the calloused hands, dark eyes, tall stature, the scars - everything.
Besides, you supposed that you couldn't have necessarily been blamed for thinking that way considering the fact that you'd seen more than enough shitty romance flicks to know what the female gaze seemed to desire when it came to their army men.
If he can fight a war on a battlefield, then he can sure as hell fuck you like the enemy in the bedroom.
So, when the tension in the room hit a fever pitch and his mouth was on yours, hot, paw-like hands grabbing at the flesh of your hips, you thought of the bruises he'd leave. Only, when he picked you up from the sofa and carried you to his bedroom, you were surprised.
He didn't throw you down on the mattress, he placed you down and asked you, 'Are you sure ye ready, luvie?' Your heart melted in that moment, words stuck in your throat, so, you nodded. 'Words, darlin'.'
A command, but so soft, so feathery that you blushed as you nodded your head again, this time saying, 'Yes.'
His mouth was gentle against your skin, taking in the bitter taste of the perfume you'd sprayed before leaving the house as he sunk his teeth lightly into your flesh, earning a stifled breath from you.
Your clothes were pulled off with precision, thrown to the ground and at some point, he peeled his own shirt off before bracing his hands against your knees and pulling them apart. He peppered kisses up your inner thighs, panties pulled to the side as he lick a stripe up your clit.
Your hands threaded in his brown locks, back arching against the bed, bedsheet damp from sweat. No one had ever dared to do anything of the sorts; it was always about them, never about you. But John licked at your clit, fingers pumping in and out of your hole like it was his damn mission to make you orgasm.
And you did with a whine, crying out, 'Oh my God!'
When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on his lips, feel your release wetting your chin as you'd soaked into his beard - it was crude, dirty, but in the moment, it didn't matter, and it still didn't when he pushed his cock into your cunt, thick fingers brushing against your cheek, gentle whispers of 'Let me know when I can move, sweetheart,' and 'good girl,' hot against your ear.
He didn't fuck you, it was loving, the most loved you've felt as he didn't squeeze your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and he told you how pretty you looked.
And for the first time, before the pair of you came, he said, 'I love you.'
It was sincere, and your hands wrapped around his neck, forehead pressing against each other and, as you came down from the clouds, breathless, you said, 'I love you too.'
soap who watches pornstar!reader religiously, he cannot help but want to get his hands on you and show you what a real man fucks you like, instead of these stupid actors. he knows youd never just say yes if a random fan asked you to collab so what does he do?
he makes an onlfyfans too and speedruns his way to the fucking top, to the point it would be stupid of you to decline him.
johnny who doesn't forget about you after he's brought back, but simply remembers things just a little bit wrong.
it's the middle of the night when simon comes to get you. he doesn't apologize for waking you when you crack open the door to your room because he knows you've been having trouble sleeping since johnny was shot. just blurts out that johnny is awake. alive. "he's askin' for you."
before you know it you're speed walking behind simon towards the medbay, cursing his long legs for carrying him so fast. he rounds corner after corner with you on his heels before stopping in front of a door. there's no name on the nametag. you assume he's going to reach for the door handle, but he lets out a deep breath and turns back towards you. "y'should really speak to price before you see him. wait here."
frustration bubbles up in your chest as simon vanishes around the corner. it's been almost a week since johnny was rushed off the helipad by the largest group of medics you'd ever seen for just one person. almost a week of no news, no information on his status, no way of knowing if he was beyond saving or just a step away from recovery. it was truly maddening.
price had been no help, although by the look on his face the many times you had questioned him he didn't know much more than you did. he looked just as tired, just as haunted. he's alive, price had grumbled while staring out his office window, cigar gripped a bit too tightly to be casual. that's all that matters.
it is all that matters, you think to yourself as you bounce on your heels outside johnny's room. its only been three minutes since simon went to fetch price, but as every moment passes your resolve starts to splinter. johnny is right behind that door. asking for you.
you've been desperate to see him. to simply watch him breathe, if anything. since the day you stepped foot on base, he'd bonded to your side like cement - much to your annoyance at first - and had stayed there ever since. within a few months you had to admit that he had officially earned his title as your best friend, again, much to your annoyance. johnny seemed to have a way of worming into people's lives with his charming smiles and thoughtful actions even if they didn't exactly want him to, simon was proof of that. it had been too long without him.
fuck waiting.
you had half expected some kind of code to get in considering the way they'd been keeping his condition under wraps, but the door swings open easily. the room is quiet except for the monotonous beeping of a heart monitor. a single light next to the bed casts a soft glow across the room, illuminating iv poles that almost look as if they're standing guard over their patient - the patient who cracks his eyes open and offers a sleepy yet devastating smile.
"there she is."
a sob threatens to spill out as you stride across the room to the side of the bed, johnny's eyes locked onto you as you move toward him. his smile is one of relief, as if he's the one leaning over your hospital bed to babble about how happy he is you're alive. he looks paler than usual, but you chalk that up to having been stuck in his little fluorescent corner for the past week. there's a bandage on the left side of his head, obscuring the wound that had nearly taken his life. you'd expected him to look different, delicate, perhaps even weak, but the man in front of you looked no worse off than having had a bad case of the common cold. of course johnny would cheat death and still come out looking no worse for wear.
"johnny," you whisper, his name coming out broken and weak. he grins - of course he would, mischief dancing in his eyes even while sitting in a hospital bed - and reaches his hand out to you. there's a slight shake to it as it lingers in the air before your fingers lace with his, pulling johnny's hand to your chest. there's an all too familiar burn behind your eyes, one you don't even notice until johnny tuts, raising his other hand to wipe the hot tears from under your lashes. his touch is calloused yet so familiar.
"stop your cryin' bonnie. m'here." johnny's hand cups the back of your head, pulling you towards his chest. it's all so much, his voice, his touch, the ever comforting smell of johnny on his hospital gown. his arms wrap around you, tugging you up to climb into the bed beside him. he presses your face into his chest, kissing the top of your head. well. that's new.
"you're alive."
"what gave it away?" johnny laughs as you lightly punch his side and the sound makes you feel dizzy. there had been a few days where you had doubted you'd ever hear it again. "don't be pulling your punches on me now, love. if i wasn't bulletproof before i sure am now."
"oh, shut up." johnny's arm releases from around your waist and you take the opportunity to sit up, examining his face. the crinkles around his eyes, the faded scar jutting across his chin. the sight of him feels so safe and familiar, and for the first time in almost a week you feel the icy tendrils of fear start to melt from your bones. a warm and calloused hand rests on your arm, his thumb rubbing light circles across your skin. "i don't know how they did what they did," you sniffle, fidgeting with the edge of his blanket, "but i'm so fucking happy you're alive. i didn't know what to do, they wouldn't tell me a thing, and when i saw you on that gurney - "
"hey." johnny's voice is softer than you've ever heard. his hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you blink back at him in surprise. he touches your face gently, seemingly mapping it out with his eyes and fingers as if he's trying to burn the sight into his brain. you've been up close and personal with johnny more times than you could count, squeezed into the backs of trucks and squished impossibly close in pub booths, but he's never looked at you like this. like he was worried he'd never see you again, like it had been all he was waiting for.
something has definitely changed.
"i'm here now, and i've no plans of goin' anywhere anytime soon." johnny's eyes fall to where his other hand clasps yours, twisting his wrist so that the back of your hand faces upwards. a hum rumbles in his throat and he smiles, an almost lovesick smile that makes your stomach drop. "been thinking since i woke up," he says quietly. "and i don't want to wait anymore. it's time."
unease curls in your stomach, simon's earlier warning suddenly echoing like a siren in your mind. you should really speak to price before you see him. johnny doesn't seem to notice the gears turning in your mind as he continues trailing his fingers over your skin, watching the goosebumps raise along your arm intently. he moves down to your hand, your wrist still gripped in his, and pauses ever so slightly as his touch passes over the top of your empty ring finger. "time for what, johnny?" you ask slowly, carefully, gaze fixed on his dreamy expression.
cobalt eyes rise to meet yours. the corners of his mouth lift into a tender smile. "to get married, love."
your mouth goes dry. it feels as though he's knocked the wind out of you, the words slowly sinking into your bones like heat from a fireplace. to get married. to get married. to get married. the shock must be evident on your face, because johnny coos and cups the back of your head, tugging you face first into his chest once more. you're frozen, disbelief and confusion clouding your thoughts like smoke, and you shiver as johnny begins to stroke your hair and mumble quietly about making good on all his promises. "johnny," you stammer out, your voice muffled slightly by his hospital gown. "you know who i am, right? we're not - "
he scoffs, chuckling at you as if you're the one being silly. "of course i know who you are, love. could never forget you, no matter what happens to me." he ignores the way you shake your head at him, concern etching your brow as you sit up. "and i know, i know, we're not even living together yet, but don't worry. price was here earlier and i've already started working on charming him into giving us private quarters. might have to bend a few rules, but you know how good i am at that, don't you love?"
the sound of the door swinging open makes you jump in your seat. price strides purposefully into the room, simon in close step behind him. he stops abruptly when he spots you seated next to johnny, his mouth flattening into a straight line. "i see you got your visitor," he says lowly. he's speaking to johnny, but his eyes don't leave yours. something flashes behind them - concern?
no. a warning.
johnny doesn't acknowledge the unspoken conversation currently taking place in front of him. he continues absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin, grinning at the two men as if he's won the lottery. "and she was worth every second of the wait, sir."
"she couldn't stand to wait either, it seems." price's voice carries no malice, only what sounds like resignation. a chill slithers its way into your bones as your eyes bounce back and forth between your captain and lieutenant. simon stands wordlessly behind price wearing his usual indifferent glare, but his body language is indescribably off. there's tension in his shoulders, a guardedness you've never seen from him, at least not in the company you're currently in. price has never looked so utterly uneasy, his weight shifting from his left foot to his right. he drags a calloused hand over his face before taking a few steps forward, his hands resting on his hips. you barely register the feeling of johnny's lips pressing against your hand, too focused on the look of pure pity price is sending you.
what now? help me, your eyes plead.
the only response you get is an ill-boding sigh. "i really wish you'd listened to simon."
a/n: this is me hitting the post button and then flinging my laptop across the room and running away bc im nervous - hello hello! this has been in my drafts for 74 years and i'm not sure if i hate the way i ended this, i'm sorry if it feels a bit rushed. the concept of johnny coming back wrong makes my brain go brrrrr i'd like to do a part two if anyone is interested! i hope everyone is having a lovely day (despite, yknow...everything)
synopsis— Johnny tells you the truth of what happened to your seal friend. Some other truths come out as well.
warnings— No big warnings.
wc— 2.4k words
NOTES— I hope I do this moment justice :)
NAVIGATION MASTERLIST || AO3 PROFILE || TAGLIST GOOGLE FORM
FIRST PART || PREV || NEXT || MORE JOHNNY
OKAY, MAYBE JOHNNY WAS A LITTLE IN OVER HIS HEAD.
In his defense, he had been alive for a long time. Long enough. And he was just now finding the sweet, bonnie thing he deemed his mate. He felt it deep in the rusted corners of his hybrid body--where his seal and human met and discussed humanity. His seal was strong, instincts stenching up his nose and making his brain hum.
He had almost completely forgotten what it was to be human. There were so many rules. Morals that he had to remember when all he wanted was to wade in the water, let waves crash over his slippery form, and sink his teeth into a willing mate.
Maybe he'd get a few pups. Always had a soft spot for them. He got quite sappy, really. He just wanted to cuddle up to something completely his. Protect. It was his role, one he hadn't been able to alleviate the desire for in a long time.
He just wanted a pod.
He wasn't built for a solitary lifestyle.
It wasn't intentional when he heaved himself onto your boat. Just like the fear that coursed through him wasn't a common feeling. He was almost seal chow to some large creature out in the vast ocean. Unfortunately, he had just gotten too careless.
Yet, when you extended a hand, mindful of the new presence on your boat, he couldn't let it go. So he came back. Over and over. Until he burned when he was away, a deeprooted yearning to show you all his cards.
You could be friends with the seal, would it be the same for the human?
He had a creeping suspicion that you were his mate after two meetings with you in his human form. He loved how sweet you smelled--sensing it long after he slinked into the ocean for the night. He loved the beating of your heart, the way you were quick to respond to his stupid jokes. All of it. His brain screamed at him.
Mating season was coming.
The thought of the possibility of not being alone this time, of having those pups he always craved, made Johnny restless. Desperate. He was impulsive when he slipped his pelt beneath the grooves of your boat and kept himself in his human form. To all other Selkies, parting with their pelt was a crime and potential torture. It was a vulnerability not to take lightly.
The wrong person would keep him powerless.
You wouldn't do that, though.
He ignored the nausea in his gut when he was without his pelt. Taking on the form of his human counterpart, Johnny, was an odd feeling. He felt like he was in bones far too big, a disconnection from the culture of humans. He spoke fine, he downed fish and ale like it was his only purpose, but it wasn't completely who he was.
He slept in a hotel, back aching as his mind screamed for him to go back to the beach, nab his pelt, and sink into the ocean and return at first light. He'd woo you as Johnny. Slowly introduce the idea of his Selkie blood only when he trusted you completely.
But he worried that if he didn't seize the opportunity, you'd be lost soon.
He wouldn't be alone. Not another season. He was going to go insane, become depressed and wither away. It happened to another in his old pod. The poor Selkie mourned the loss of his mate so deeply he disappeared into the coral reefs and never came back.
Now that he had a friendship with you, he was determined to perserve it all.
But how could he explain that you'd always have to live by the sea if you took him on as a mate? He could lie with you in your bed, cherish you the way you deserved, but there would always be a point where he had to merge with the saltwater. To dip below and fill his gills.
Would you understand? What if he had so much hope only to find you couldn’t live with that compromise? He wouldn't survive. He had never put himself out for the sharks like this, and now his body was thrumming relentlessly.
He feigned nonchalance when you revealed you found the pelt. His brain was heavy, spiraling as the bill came due. He wasn't ready. He thought he'd actually have more time to figure out a plan.
Yet, now you were staring at him expectantly after he said he had an explanation and his tongue was dry. He needed to get back in the water, but that'd be pathetic right now. Plus, it would look like an escape attempt.
Right now, you were holding him hostage for a murder suspicion. This is why he stopped interacting with humans a long time ago. It twisted his heart with far too much anxiety, and he hated that he felt that around you. You were his chosen mate. He shouldn't be worried about losing you.
He could explain this in five seconds. You'd probably laugh in his face when he called himself a Selkie, but all he had to do was throw that pelt over himself and show you. Your seal friend and him went hand-in-hand. You enjoyed the company of all of him, so maybe that would help his odds of surviving this whole ordeal.
He had been alone for so long. He had almost forgotten what it was to have conflict. It all started with the orca. He had gotten careless, something he never did. Survival instinct saturated deep in his mutated bone marrow. He should’ve known better.
Then he faltered and flocked to you like you were some deity be had long searched for. The need to pack was far too ingrained in him, and maybe that was the issue. He was safe before he went out poking for more meaning.
"Ye… ah…" Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. Jump in the water, Johnny. Escape. Retreat. Don't mess with this. The words of his pod rang in his head. They were wary of humans. Of trusting, really. "Do ye ken about Selkies, bon?"
You blinked. Stared at him for a long time. You had quite the disarming stare. In any other situation, he would've praised you for that. Fierce, bonnie thing. His mate. His gums were aching from waiting so long for you.
"The mythological creature?" You answered.
"Aye," he hummed. "Isnae fictional, doe."
Your eyes narrowed, and he swallowed. He knew you didn't believe him. He had all the proof, and yet he felt as if he didn’t. He was thrown out naked as some shameful punishment, and he absolutely despised it.
What if he bore his soul and admitted the truth, and he still lost you?
"Give me the pelt, doe," Johnny curled his fingers as a sign to do as he said. You held the pelt tighter; protectively.
"No."
"Please? Let me show ye what ah mean."
You hesitated. He swallowed thick phelgm in his throat as he watched you decide his fate. He hated this feeling. If you kept his pelt, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. A trapped Selkie. It wasn't an ideal place to be.
Even if he longed for you.
He still wanted the free will to exist how he wished. Take on the form that most suited him for the occasion.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, you handed the pelt over to Johnny. His body hummed as his hand enclosed around the blubber again. It was therapeutic, a relief burrowed in his bones when he realized his connection to the sea was in his clutch again.
"Thank ye, doe," he spoke sweetly.
He gripped the pelt with reverence. He felt a bitter discomfort healing as soon as he held this part of him. The knowledge that he could slip away again slackened his shoulders immensely. The call of the sea was great.
"Aye..." Johnny breathed. "Lemme just..."
Slipping into his pelt felt like nothing. It was so innate to him that he didn't exactly predict how startling it might've been for someone--especially a mere human who had obviously never encountered the make-believe.
Johnny chuffed, nostrils flaring as he adjusted to being closer to the floor. His whiskers tingled as he processed all the sharper senses that came with this form. The air felt clearer. He could identify the finer grains of the ocean in more depth. The saltiness clung to his tongue, big eyes blinking around.
He hobbled on his belly, bouncing closer to you. He nuzzled your leg, slapping his flipper against his side, and finally looked up at you. Maybe if he acted cute, the way you reacted would be a lot more pleasant.
He couldn't read your face. Your eyes were wide, hand gripping at the side of your boat. Were you even breathing? He wasn't sure if the stillness was a positive or if he was about to have his worst fear confirmed.
He let out a little purring noise. It vibrated against his chest. He sniffed the air, nudging you softly again as his eyes slowly blinked.
He wasn't often scared, especially in this form. He was used to confidence in everything he did. He was a skilled fisher, survived well on his own, and navigated a world on two legs. But he had never quite been put out on display like this, stripped bare and sharing a sacred part of him to someone whom he wasn't even sure wanted him.
Right as he grew impatient, you finally spoke.
You reached a delicate hand out, fingers twitching just shy of his snout. He chuffed and pressed into your hand desperately, churring quietly.
"It's you..." you whispered.
Johnny needed to be able to speak. He bounced back and shed his pelt in record time. Human eyes met yours, eyes soft and anxious as he regarded you. The fact that you had reached out as opposed to something else made him flutter.
"Doe..."
"I just..." You stammered now, standing up and stepping to the other edge of your boat. Johnny watched you, heart being pulled in all kinds of directions. "Holy shit. Okay... I need to process this."
Johnny swallowed, "What do ye need from me?"
You looked back at him, biting your lip in thought. "I just need a moment...can you..." You vaguely gestured to the water.
Johnny didn't want to go, but he also wanted to respect you. He nodded stiffly, becoming the seal once again. He flared his nostrils for a moment, eyes watchful towards your form for a moment before he yielded and dived into the water.
He just hoped you let him return.
Johnny spent his time fishing. Chasing fish was as easy as breathing, his form gliding through the water with a refreshing speed. Humans could try and recreate this with artificial creations, but nothing topped the born ability to dive. He had missed it.
Johnny kept nearby your boat, but far enough where you wouldn't notice him. He found his mind mostly focused on you, never being this distracted before. His mind had always been in the game, never on hinged on what another was doing.
He abandoned fishing after a while, just settling for gliding at the bottom of the sea floor. He went through the coral reefs, swam beside a school of fish, and just contemplated.
Why was it that your decision felt just as worse as when he wasn’t tied to his pelt?
He needed to go back. He had given you enough time, right? How long had it even been? In the sea, he didn't really need to tell time the same way. It wasn't like the sun dipping changed much. For you, he needed to reach you before you decided to slink back onto the shore. Because what if you didn't return?
He was almost frantic as he closed on your wooden ship. His gums ached when he poked his head out of the water, startling you who had been leaning over the edge. He recoiled as a reaction to your reaction, letting out a small chuff of air.
He waited. Letting you deal the cards, even if it was torture.
You sighed, patting the boat. "Get up here, you big blubbery fool."
Happiness was too mudane of a word to describe what Johnny was feeling. It wasn't an acceptance of being his mate, as he hadn't even gotten to that point yet, but you still wanted his presence. For a lonely seal, that was everything. He knew he was your only real friend as well. You two needed each other.
Johnny threw himself onto the boat, immediately shedding his skin.
"Why…" you seemed at a loss for words at that moment. "Why'd you stash it?"
Johnny heated, confidence waning as he was confronted. He knew it was going to come eventually. It was odd behavior. One that made you believe he had poached the seal originally.
He was just grateful you let him explain before you murdered him.
"Ah…" Johnny rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "It's…ah want ye as my mate, doe."
Silence.
He wished the ocean would swallow him whole. Maybe silence was normal, but he wasn't completely accustomed to how humans were. He knew enough to get by, but not the actual habits because he always wound up scraping the ocean floor.
That was home. His seal was home.
And up until he met you, human interaction was not a thing for a long time.
"Mate?" You rasped finally.
Johnny nodded. "Aye. Ah feel drawn tae ye. The pelt… it's the most vulnerable part of us. Tha's our marriage. We're bound tae who holds it. Cannae shift unless it is gifted back tae us. Some people use it tae trap Selkies. But ah…ah was bindin' myself tae ye on my own. If ye wear the pelt…yer the Selkie's mate."
You looked down at the pelt and then to him. You looked overwhelmed but calmer than when you made him leave originally. Still, he was coiled tight from anticipation.
"I…" you opened and closed your mouth. "Does it work?"
Johnny cracked a small smile, "Aye, bon. Ah'm still part human. Ah can court ye like ye do if ye'd like tha'."
You swallowed—contemplative.
Maybe he'd hit you with the mating season and all that later after you processed this reality. He had you hanging on, but he worried he would actually scare you away if he divulged too much too soon. He'd ease you into it, hopefully before he went into a rut.
He held out his hand in small offering. Take the bait, or don't. He'd swim away with a broken heart, but he'd respect your decision.
You took his hand after a stressful beat, letting his fingers curl around your working hands.
you weren't quite sure how you ended up in this predicament. you and johnny had been sparring, just trying to let out some energy, and here you were, his large hand pressing your face down into the mat while he drilled in and out of you faster and harder than you could ever imagine, nor do yourself.
you couldn't tell how many orgasms you had, nor how many times he had made you cum. had he? you couldn't tell if it was sweat or his cum mixed with yours that was running down your thighs.
your moans started to grow weaker and quieter with how badly your throat hurt from calling out his name. someone walking in wasn't even on your radar, all you knew was that you wanted more of johnny.
you could tell that his thrusts were slowing down, getting sloppier and harder. his hand finally lifted from your head, moving to your other hip that wasn't currently being held by him. with a few more sloppy thrusts, he finally stopped, not before pumping you even fuller of his cum.
he pulled out, letting your body lightly fall to the ground as he rolled over and laid on his back.
"shit, bonnie. might have to spar more with ya, huh?"
and who were you to say no to a sparring session with johnny?
hello! i’m new to your blog but wanted to send in a lil ask :)
could we get a lil blurb where (gn, please) reader is a student and has a rough day bc an exam went bad which led to a breakdown and the 141 boys comfort them through it w lots of hugs and tucking them in close? you can choose anyone, im not picky
thank you so much and i hope you’re taking care of yourself 🤍
Hello!! Welcome to my blog, I'm happy you're here! I can definitely do that for you :):) I hope you're doing well, too! I'll do you one better! I'll do one for my two favorite boys!
Johnny Soap MacTavish
Today was fucking terrible. You've had exams all week. Not only have you had exams all week, but you've failed your exam in your most important class. So, when you get home, you collapse on the couch and start crying. It's not loud, or great, big gasping sobs. But you do cry, because today has been shit.
"Hello?" your boyfriend calls from the front door. "Baby, are ye here?"
"Yeah." Your voice breaks. "Yeah. I'm home."
"What's the matter?" He immediately softens. Johnny sees you curled up on the couch with his mum's quilt. "Hey. What happened?"
"I failed my bloody exam," you say, glancing up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I'll have to take the fucking class again next semester."
"Oh, sweet thing," Johnny purrs, scooping you up into his lap. He wraps you in the quilt, holding you as tightly as he can. "It's not the end of the world."
"I did so well in all my other exams," you cry into his shoulder. "I was doing so good..."
Johnny rubs soothing circles on your back. "That's alright," he says, kissing the side of your head. "You're so smart. You'll get it next semester, aye?"
"I won't!" you exclaim, clutching his shirt. "I won't. If I don't get it now, I'll never get it!"
"Hey, hey, none of that, duckie," he scolds. "You will get it. I know you will. But right now? Just let me hold ye."
"I'm a bad student," you whine. "I don't ever fail exams!"
"That doesn't make you a bad student. It's okay to fail an exam here and there," he hushes you, still kissing the top of your head. "Everyone fails every now and again."
"But Johnny-" you whisper.
"Don't 'But Johnny' me," he says. "Things will be okay."
You rest your head on his shoulder, shuddering breaths escaping your lungs. "I'll be here another year at this rate."
"Oh, you hush," Johnny presses another kiss to the side of your head. "Let me hold you for a while. Things will be alright. And I'll take ye out for dinner later tonight, okay? A nice date. Does that sound good?"
You sniffle. "That sounds good, baby."
Simon Ghost Riley
You are trying not to cry. Really, you are. You've kept a brave face on the whole walk across campus to Simon's car. But the moment you close that car door, the dams break. Your trembling lip gives you away to Simon before you even start crying. "What's the matter?" he asks, his gruff voice as soft as he can possibly make it.
"I think I failed my exam today," you admit. "It's something I'm supposed to be good at, too."
"Do you know for sure, yet?" Simon puts the car in drive. He reaches for your hand. "You could have done very well."
"I know I bombed it." You wipe your face with your free hand. "I bombed that shit. My grade's going to be a goddamn D for the rest of the year!"
"Listen, luv, you're leagues smarter than me in things like this," Simon says, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. You know he doesn't really know how to comfort you in these kinds of situations. He's not an academic, not in the sense you are. But he's trying, and that makes you feel a little better. "I'm sure everyone's failed an exam before. And maybe your professor will curve it, eh?"
You shake your head. "Everyone else I talked to thought the test was easy."
Simon sighs, glancing at you for a moment before turning his eyes back on the road. "It's okay to not be good at everything," he tells you. "In the grand scheme of life? This is so insignificant that it'll barely be a blip in your story, yeah? You won't even remember this test in a year, you know?"
"No, I'm- I'm a failure!" Your voice breaks right down the middle.
"Because of one little exam? No, luv, this is nothing, you hear? Nothing," Simon promises.
You give him a weak little nod, though your eyes are glazed over with tears. You don't believe him. But you'll try. "It's just one exam," you whisper.
"That's right. One exam. Now, how about you and I go out to supper tonight? Get your spirits up," he says, patting your thigh. "Get your mind off it, too."
"That sounds really good," you say with a soft, albeit a little broken, smile.
