Warnings: 18+ smut, explicit but disgustingly tender, somnophilia, praise/possessive talk, desperate sex, PTSD nightmare comfort, unprotected sex, creampie, no use of condoms. [no physical descriptors for reader]
You wake to a heavy, stretching fullness. There is no gentle transition; you are suddenly awake, pinned to the mattress by a solid weight. Between your thighs, a slow, thick friction drags against your flesh, sparking sharp heat straight to your core.
A broken moan escapes your lips, muffled by the pillow.
Above you, Johnny’s frame presses down harder, flattening his chest against your back. A rough, sleep-thickened voice murmurs against your ear.
"Mornin', my sweet lass," Johnny rumbles. His Scottish burr is raw, trembling with a quiet desperation. His breath burns your neck as his lips brush your skin. "Didnae mean to wake ye. I just... the dark was too loud, darlin'. I couldnae breathe without ye."
You shift, sleepily arching your back to meet his weight, a soft sigh catching in your throat. "S'okay, my love," you murmur, tilting your head to give him your neck. "Mmm… Johnny…"
Your body is instantly, sharply awake. You register the scarred planes of his chest and the crushing weight of his arms caging you in. His hand splays possessively across your lower belly, fingers digging in. He is already buried to the hilt, his thick cock stretching you to your limit. He moves in slow, grinding rolls of his hips, fucking you, desperately trying to sink so deep that he can’t tell where he ends and you begin.
"Shh, my bonnie girl," he hushes. His fingers grip your hip bone, pulling you back to bottom out deeper. "S'okay. Just a wicked dream, aye? Thought... thought I was back there. Thought I was gone, and I couldnae find my way back to ye. I woke up and needed to be inside you. Needed to feel your heartbeat. Needed to know you're real."
Your hand reaches back blindly, fingers brushing his stubbled jaw. "I am real," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "And I'm not going anywhere, baby."
His movements are unhurried but heavy, laden with a terrifying hunger. It is the desperation of a man who knows any day could be his last, clinging to his only sanctuary. Each time he pulls back, you feel the empty ache of his absence; when he pushes back in, the powerful stroke fills you so completely it steals your breath.
"Steamin' Jesus, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck, inhaling you as if you are the only clean air he has left. "Always so warm. So soft. My girl. You save me, darlin'."
Your hands are trapped beneath you, useless against the mattress. You can't touch him now. You can only lie there and take this heavy, possessive worship, a man desperately begging for his life through your body. The thought that you are his peace, his only shield against the demons of the field, makes you tremble.
His hand slides down, rough fingers trailing through the slick heat between your thighs before finding your clit. He simply presses down with constant pressure, anchoring you as his cock ruthlessly claims your depth.
"Johnny," you whine, your hips twitching back against him. "Oh fuck, Johnny…"
"Shh, now, darlin'," he soothes, his voice a low, coaxing purr, though his breath is ragged. "Easy. Just feel me. Feel how deep I am, how I'm fillin' you up. I love hearin' my name on your lips when I'm buried in ye. Makes me feel like I actually made it home."
The pace remains relentless. His cock drags heavily against your inner walls, the head of it kissing that sweet, sensitive spot with every deliberate, bruising thrust. You are a slick, hot mess, creating wet, squelching noises that echo in the quiet room, dirty sounds of friction that make your pulse race with a dizzying heat because you are so desperately grateful for his weight.
"You're shakin', hen," Johnny murmurs, his lips brushing your temple, his grip tightening until his knuckles are white. "Am I hurtin' you?"
You shake your head, choking on a sob. It isn't pain; it is the sheer, terrifying volume of him.
Everything narrows down to this exact, suffocating space. You are intensely aware of the rough calluses on his palm anchoring your clit, the heavy, sweat-slicked drag of his chest hair against your bare back, and the faint scent of the field still clinging to his skin. You are being completely consumed by a man who lives on the edge of a blade.
Every heavy slide of his cock feels like a countdown, a desperate imprint of his existence into your very bones. You are memorizing him, the exact thickness stretching you, the dry heat of his throat against your collarbone, the ragged catch in his chest. If he doesn't make it back next time, this is the weight you will have to carry. The thought is sharp, dirty, and devastatingly beautiful. It coils in your lower belly, pulling so tight it aches.
"Good," he rumbles, his hand pressing firmer, driving you ruthlessly over that cliff. "I want you sensitive for me. Let me make you come, darlin'. Just let go."
And you do. Your body arches back against him as the orgasm finally breaks, a violent, sobbing wave of ecstasy that clamps your pussy desperately around his length, trying to lock him inside you forever. You gasp his name, your head thrashing against the mattress. Johnny groans, his hips stuttering, his cock twitching violently as your tight, pulsing heat milks him, holding him captive until you are a whimpering mess beneath him.
"Tha's my girl," he whispers, his voice thick with raw possessiveness. "Always so perfect."
The sleepy haze is entirely gone, replaced by a desperate, aching need to hold him. "Johnny," you gasp, trying to turn. "Please, I need to see you."
With a low grunt, he helps you roll over, keeping his thick length buried deep within your wet heat. Now you are face to face, legs tangled, your hands finally free. You scramble to grab his broad shoulders, your fingers sinking into the hard muscle of his back, before tangling desperately in his mohawk, the proof that he is here, alive, and yours.
His eyes are dark, intense, and shining with tears in the dim morning light. "Fuck, I love it when ye look at me like that," he groans, his hips resuming that deep, rolling grind. "Like I'm your whole world."
"You are," you whisper, pulling his head down.
The kiss is wet, messy. Your tongues slide together in a panting, frantic rhythm. The new angle shifts everything, his cock pressing ruthlessly against a devastatingly sensitive spot deep inside you. Your moans are no longer muffled; they are loud, uninhibited cries of pleasure.
"Johnny, oh my god, Johnny... don't stop, please don't stop."
"Never stoppin', my heart," he rasps, resting his forehead against yours, his gaze locked onto yours with a fierce, burning love. "I want to fill you up so completely. Tell me you want me. Tell me you're mine."
"Yes," you sob, the word torn from your throat as you cling to his neck. "I'm yours. Fill me up, Johnny. Please."
"My beautiful girl," he chokes out, his thrusts turning harder, more purposeful, the bed creaking loudly in time with your bodies. "Gonna leave my love so deep inside you that you'll feel me with every breath you take today. You'll never forget who you belong to."
The dirty, intensely romantic promise throws you over the edge. Another orgasm crashes through you, a blinding wave. You cry out his name as your pussy tightly milks his thick length, your hands scrabbling for purchase on his sweat-slicked back, desperately memorizing the feel of his skin.
"Fuck, that's it, that's it," Johnny growls, his rhythm faltering as your body convulsively clamps down on him. "Come on my cock, sweetheart. Take it all."
He buries his face in your neck, his own groans vibrating against your skin as he lets go. You feel the hot, thick pulses of his release deep inside you, an intimate, searing heat that seems to go on forever. He fills you completely, his body tensing and shuddering with each powerful spurt.
Johnny doesn't pull out. He collapses on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You can feel his cum, a warm, sticky pool inside you, and the sheer, fleeting safety of this moment brings tears to your eyes. You hold him tighter, your arms locked around him as if you could physically keep him from ever leaving.
You run your fingers through the short, soft hair at the sides of his mohawk, tracing lazy circles on his back. He is still inside you, softening but lingering, a constant, comforting presence.
"Bad dream, huh?" you murmur after a long silence, your voice trembling slightly.
He lifts his head to look at you, the tough sergeant completely stripped away, leaving only a vulnerable, raw affection in his eyes.
"Aye, well. Woke up in a cold sweat, thought I'd lost you," he admits quietly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a rough thumb. "Had to make sure you were real. That I was still allowed to love you like this."
You pull him down for another slow, sweet kiss, tasting the salt of your own tears. "I'm real, Johnny," you whisper against his lips. "And I'm yours. Always."
He sighs, a sound of pure, melting relief, and settles back down with his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. "Best fuckin' dream I ever had, then," he mumbles, his eyes already drifting shut.
You smile, stroking his hair, feeling his warmth leak slowly inside you.
He is alive. He is here. Johnny Mactavish. Your Johnny. The love of your life.
Love the idea of Sergeant Riley being tasked with educating the new recruits on takedowns and using Lieutenant Price purely as just a ragdoll like this.
Johnny who doesn't think he deserves a love like Kyle's because he's always been "too much" "too angry" "too obsessive" and Kyle sees that and still says "I love you." And Johnny doesn't know what to do with that.
Dingo singing in the car to the heart wrenching final song from a musical Epic, tears streaming down their cheeks, voice cracking in all the right places.
Immediately switching as the intro to “Baby” starts playing, eyes dry like they weren’t just on the edge of breaking down, dancing in their seat and rapping along with Ludicrous.
Pan over to the task force looking at them in concern because Dingo made them feel a deep ache in their chests as they sang only get whiplashed by the switch.
Babes do you have any thoughts on johnny and chubby readers😫 because no one can tell me that man doesnt love himself a pudgy tummy and fat thighs. Would genuinely be offended if you tried to lose weight, being insecure around him would just mean hes gonna fuck the idea out of your head
Johnny Mactavish x fem!reader, fat!reader, body image issues, internalized fatphobia, body shaming, aggressive confidence boosting, dirty talk, body image healing, brief mention of anal fantasy, brief oral
Anon so patient waiting since July I'm sorry
It comes up while you're just lounging on the couch, Johnny having coaxed you back against his chest, arms around you while you both half-watch a reality show. There's a woman on the screen throwing a massive fit about one of the men apparently cheating on her- the camera angles jump around as she screeches and goes off on anyone within arms reach.
You snort softly when she gets to the meat of her upset- that she's too beautiful and sexy to be cheated on. How could someone want to fuck anyone except her when she's physically perfect?
"Thank God you're not like that," you say, and Johnny makes a questioning sound. "With me for my body, I mean. I feel kind of bad for her, she thinks she's only worth anything if she's sexy."
Johnny's hands still where they've been idly rubbing up and down your belly. He does that a lot, squeezing or smoothing the curve of your stomach where it hangs down, the extra folds around your sides, under your arms. You'd not really paid attention unless it tickled- he was a bit twitchy at times, and you have a lot of real estate to fill his hands when he couldn't find a pen to click or fiddle with.
"What do you mean?" He asks.
You crane your neck back to look up at his chin. "You know. At least I know you like me enough to tolerate all this," you wave a hand across your soft stomach, the rippled fat of your thighs. You mean it, sincerely- you're incredibly lucky that Johnny can put up with your physical shape being less than ideal.
Abruptly, you're lifted up, and you yelp in surprise as Johnny drops you onto the seat, nearly crawling on top of you. He's got a weird, frozen look on his face.
"Do you," he starts, and stops for a second, shaking his head. "D'you think I don't think you're gorgeous? Sexy?"
You gape at him, mouth opening and closing a few times. "I mean, it's not....you know. I'm not like, hideous. But you didn't exactly picture yourself ending up with Miss XXXL here, y'know?"
Johnny remains kneeling, his whole face tight, and you curl in a little. You said something wrong, and he's upset. Why? What for? It's a compliment, that he could look past your body, liked you enough to stick around.
Your boyfriend sits back, hands coming to his face. "This is my fault," he mumbles, "I didn't pay enough attention. Didn't say it right. Fuck!" You startle at the outburst, watching him with wide eyes. "You! You think I just- what, lie back and think of Scotland when we're in bed?"
Your mouth is opening and closing like a fish. "Not...really?" You squeak, and wince. "I know you enjoy it, I'm not forcing you to be there, it's just- I don't know!" You really don't, Johnny initiates sex more than you do, but there's a difference between sex with your hot girlfriend, and sex with your fat girlfriend, and only rarely do the two cross together.
Johnny just stares at you, something like anger in his face, and something also incredibly sad. It makes you nervous, tension building up along your neck, and you actually yelp when he stands abruptly, hauling you up with him; he's strong, he can move even your ass easily, and it's something you've always appreciated- that you're less likely to hurt him on accident.
He storms through the flat like he's on fire, all but snorting smoke, and when you reach the bedroom you're actually a little frightened. "Johnny, what the hell?" You snap, and he whirls you around to face the big mirror hanging on the closet door.
He's got your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. His bulk is mostly hidden behind you, but he's got his face pressed against your head, holding your gaze.
"Starting at the top," he snaps, and his hand comes up to tug a lock of your hair, gentle despite his harsh tone. "Love this, perfect to get my hands in and tug when I want to fuck you harder. Know you love it too, the way you moan for me." You gasp, startled by the sudden vulgarity, and Johnny just drops the lock to instead get a fistful at the back of your head, pulling the way he likes. You're weak, and your neck arches with a moan.
"Now here," he continues, and bites your earlobe, "are these pretty little ears for me to say all sorts of fucking filth into. Like how hot you look creaming around my cock and begging for more." His teeth shift to your cheek. "Fucking love these fat cheeks. Yes, fat-" he'd felt you stiffen "-I'm not fucking blind. Perfect to get my teeth into." He nips at your skin, and in the mirror, you see the red mark blooming on the curve of your cheek, only slightly darker than the blush already taking over your face.
One of Johnny's fingers hooks into your mouth, tugging so your lips part. He grips your jaw with his other hand. In the mirror, he looks half wild, turning your face to look at him straight on. "This mouth, I'd fuckin' write sonnets. Taste good, feel good, so pretty when you smile and when you get that tight little throat around my cock. The way your lips look when you're being kissed." He kisses you then, hands cradling your cheeks, deep and full and overwhelming. Your knees are wobbly, and you pant as he sucks your bottom lip, rolls his tongue across yours, swallows the half-baked protests and confusion from you. He stops only when you actually get lightheaded, dizzy, spinning you to look at the mirror again.
"Next stop, shoulders. Arms, these soft things that hold me so fucking good- I come home and the first thing I want is your arms around me." Johnny rubs his hands down your arms, gripping your wrists. "You're ticklish too, in the elbows, which I've never heard of until you, and then I can get these sweet little hands on my body- fuck, feel that?" He grinds against your ass. "Think about your hands all the time. Soft and pretty and so nice on my cock, tugging my hair." He lifts one hand to his mouth, and sucks at two of your fingers, releasing them just to nip and tongue at the sensitive underside of your wrist.
You're breathing hard, still several steps behind, your skin flushed and hot from the sudden jump into this wild sort of, what, confidence boosting? Dirty talk-cum-motivation? Brain aneurysm?
Johnny bites harder at the soft curve of your forearm, yanking you from your thoughts. "Now," he says, growls, and your breath catches at the dark force of his eyes, "get this fucking shirt off, or I'll tear it off."
Oh fuck, he means it, and each word goes right to your pussy.
You yank at your T-shirt, and before it's even out of your hands, Johnny is pressed up tight to your back. His cock is hard against your ass, his chin tucked down over your shoulder, and all his attention is on the big, soft curves of your breasts as he lifts them up, squeezing them together.
He moans, eyes closing for a moment to nuzzle at your throat. Thumbing your nipples makes you shiver, and he does it again, flicking the soft, sensitive flesh until they perk up. "Oh, these, I could write a fucking book about your tits, love. Soft and warm and so big, just perfect in my hands. Look so nice when you aren't hiding them under all that shit." His grip shifts abruptly, and you moan when he pinches your nipples between thumbs and forefingers. It's maddening, firm pressure spreading heat through your breasts and down into your belly, between your legs, pussy heating up as your brain scrambles.
He tugs, harder, like he's milking you, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, that's good- and Johnny sees it, grinning when you bite your lip. "Love watching them bounce when you're on my cock. Could smother myself in these tits, want to leave marks on them all fucking day. Want to see how big your nipples can get, if I spent enough time on them." He tugs again. "Would you like that love? Suck on these girls until you're crying?" He pinches sharply then releases your nipples, groping the soft flesh of your breasts as they sag back down. You flinch a little, seeing it, but Johnny moans and sucks a mark under your ear.
He keeps playing with your breasts, lifting and caressing them, teasing your nipples as you squirm against him. He keeps lifting and dropping them, and his face is intent, hot, watching as each breast bounces and jiggles in his hands.
He smacks one, down across the top, and you moan instead of yelp- the hit does something new, sends heat deeper into you, and he does it again, smacking across each tit, until your skin is flushed. You cling to the arm across your waist, Johnny taking your weight, as steady at your back as ever even as he groans and sucks a mark into your throat.
"Fucking amazing," he pants, licking a stripe to your ear. "Been dying to fuck these tits of yours, did you know that?"
You shake your head, gasping as his hand cups your breast gently again, thumbing the nipple, playing with it.
"I want to do it all the fucking time, because you're so fucking sexy I can't stand it. You drive me insane just standing around, soft and fat and gorgeous," and he catches your chin again when you whine and try to look away from the mirror. "No, don't you dare. Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are, just as you are," and everything goes very blurry.
Johnny's arms come together around your waist, cleaving you to him. His cock grinds against your ass, but it's secondary to how he cradles you, presses his face against your cheek. "Oh, love, don't cry. I just wish I'd known to say it before. I thought you knew, I really did," and your whole body flares, hot and wanting, when Johnny twines your fingers into his and drags your hands together down your belly, across the full round fat pad over your mons and to your clit.
"Fat here too, and I love it," he groans, and you blink away the tears as he gropes your belly, one hand squeezing and stroking the flesh, down your hips and where your thighs curve out, the other working with yours to rub swift and light over your clit.
You get a smack to your thigh that makes you spread them, and Johnny moans and kisses your cheek again. "Watch, love, see that?" He smacks you again, thigh rippling. "So fucking soft. Big curvy legs between mine in bed, thighs I keep asking you to smother me with- oh, there you go," because your cheeks are flaring with new heat as you recall how often Johnny grips your thighs as he eats you out, tugging on them to try and bring you closer in around his head. You'd always resisted, anxious about suffocating him, about the way your stretch marks feel under his hands.
He's still teasing your clit, using your own fingers to circle around it, making you whine and roll your hips. He laughs, sweet and low, and abruptly dips a finger inside you; you're so wet he goes right in easily, and brings it back up to his lips shining with slick. He licks it off, moaning around the digit, as your fingers slow awkwardly, unsure again. His hands go back to your belly, and he moans into your ear and sucks at your throat, rubbing over your stomach, the rolls on your sides, finding each dip and crease of flesh, and just- the way he touches you, his fingers delving into and under your belly, stroking with the same focus he gives your pussy, like it turns him on just having his hands on the literal biggest insecurity you have. "Love this too. I see you try to hide it, I don't want you to, I want you to show off all this big soft body. I want you in fucking nothing this summer, one of those little things, so small I can't even tell if you're naked under this- fuck, baby, I'll lose my mind."
He nudges a leg between yours, pushing your feet further apart. "Even love these little things, the way your toes curl when I get my cock right where you want it," and you wobble and fall forward, palms slapping the mirror, when Johnny kneels, lifts your ass, and licks a wet stripe from clit to hole.
You shake and cry out, off balance, still trying to catch up mentally to everything he's saying. Johnny doesn't lie to you, but you'd always just...brushed off his compliments. Said thank you with a smile but never took it more than skin deep. Why would you, when every partner before Johnny had made it so clear your fat was either a deal breaker, or something to be ashamed of? When every magazine page comes with "curvy" models that barely hit double digit pant sizes, when ordering meals gets you side eye and smirks for asking for an extra serving, when clothes are hard to find and harder to look good in?
When going out with Johnny and seeing the looks, the derision, the clear question on everyone's faces, why is someone like him, with someone like her?
Johnny bites hard into your ass cheek, and you yelp, the lust faded. When he stands, tucking his chin over your shoulder, his lips are wet; he twines his fingers back with yours again to keep them pinned. His eyes are so dark, so heated, and you barely breathe when he locks his gaze to yours and presses his lips to your ear.
"I love that fat fucking ass, the way it moves, the way it feels. I love that even your pussy is round and soft and I can play with it when you let a dog like me get into you." He nips at you, growling, a half-hysterical giggle bursting forth before he makes you gasp with his fingers on your clit again. "I'll spent half my life just on this gorgeous fucking ass, the way I want to come on it and bite it and fuck it- oh yes, love, I'm getting my cock into this ass someday, and you're going to bounce on it until you come." You whine, imagining it as he strokes you firmly, watching the way your lashes flutter and cheeks burn. Your pussy aches for something in it, and his cock is stiff and hard at your back, rubbing a damp trail over your ass. His other hand leaves yours still against the mirror to come down and grope at it, lifting and bouncing the way he did your breasts, smacks and pinches that make your hips squirm.
"Do you want my cock in you?" He breathes, and you nod helplessly. "Good girl," and you're spun around, hair pulled tight to force your head back as Johnny kisses you like a dying man, tongue and heat, swallowing the moan you give him, and then before you have a chance at your normal protests- Johnny groans and lifts you, back to the mirror, thighs spread open over his arms as he drops you down hard onto his cock.
You shout at the sudden stretch, and he grins, muscles bulging in his arms and shoulders. Your own slip against the mirror, damp with sweat. Fuck he feels so good, the thick full stretch of him, the way your pussy flutters and clenches down before accepting him in, taking his cock deeper.
"Johnny- no, I'm too big-"
"Impossible," he spits, and draws his hips back only to slam them forward again, making your head swim at the double impact, his cock in your pussy and his groin to your clit. "Get fatter, actually!" He does it again before you can speak, cutting you off with a moan, and the mirror is clattering behind you, as you clutch around his shoulders and take the pounding he's giving you. "Give me more of you to love," and you wail as he bends somehow closer over you and presses a kiss to your open mouth.
"I do, you know," he says, not slowing down at all, just ruthlessly fucking you against the door. Your whole body clenches tight, winding up, pussy so wet and throbbing you can hear the wet slap of hips together. "I love you. I love you for your kindness and your smile, for your gorgeous fucking body and the way you make me feel like I'm home." His eyes are very bright, and yours swim with tears again. He physically can't bend you any further, breasts and belly all squeezed up between your bodies, but he manages to get his forehead to yours, locking your eyes together. Your heart aches in your chest, your pussy clenching and fluttering, as his cock rolls across your throbbing g-spot, your clit slaps against his groin.
"I love you," he repeats, "and I'd love you if you were thin, but I wouldn't love you more," and you burst into tears and come for Johnny with his name on your lips, shaking, all the soft fat parts of you bouncing as he moans and clings to you.
You're holding him tight, hands in his hair and over his shoulders, and you moan into his mouth with a kiss as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, hips bouncing off your fat ass and thighs, each smack a reminder of your weight and shape and- and how much Johnny loves it, loves you, the mountains and rolls of your body not tolerated but- enjoyed, wanted, craved.
Johnny groans and staggers backwards to the bed, falling into it with you still in his arms. As his back hits the mattress, you whine, the angle of his cock shifting inside you, and with your legs still caught up in his arms you can't brace yourself. You fall fully onto him, weight dropping down over his lap, no hovering or fretting, and you see Johnny come like an explosion. His eyes roll and his hips buck up under you, not enough leverage to lift fully, caught in the hot wet clutch of your pussy, and you bite your lip and bear down, letting him feel the full rippling pulse around his cock.
Johnny wails, and you swear you feel a fresh burst of come inside you, as he groans and pants and limply releases your legs. You can't let go of him yet, still too fragile, something old and broken in you melting down between your bodies and gently being set back into place.
You curl over him like a snails shell, dropping little kisses onto his cheeks, blinking back the tears still dragging at your lashes. He grins, red faced and sweating, and tilts his chin up for a kiss he turns slow, soothing, indulging in your lips as much as your body, the sweet tenderness of his mouth on yours and his hands gently cradling your hips making your heart ache again.
"I love you too," you finally manage, gasping, and burst into more giggles. "God, I love you so much." I'm sorry. I'm trying to believe you. I think I might be able to now.
"I love you too," he says, and rolls you both to your sides. Your leg slots between his as his cock slips free, pressing wet and sticky against your belly, still warm and cradled securely against your body. You're sexy. I want you to see it. You deserve to know you're beautiful.
You hold him like that for a while, time slipping away, just feeling his heart against your chest, whispering back and forth the harder secrets of what you think about yourself, Johnny catching them and sending them away like butterflies, like smoke, until you fall asleep together with his arms around you, for once not worried about being too big to hold.
anon in my inbox said fanfic writers who wrote about dark and taboo topics were not “real writers” because of what they wrote about.
reblog if you believe anon is wrong and writers are writers, no matter what they write about. no matter how they portray these taboo topics.
reblog if you believe art can be about topics that are controversial, taboo or outright disturbing, and artists who create controversial, taboo or outright disturbing art are as valid as artists who create art of conservative values.
thinking about f!reader who was engaged to Johnny. Thinking about how after Johnny dies, Simon moves in because you’re both the closest thing to getting Johnny again. Thinking about how you guys are instantly trying to fuck your grief away, both too lost in pleasure and sadness that you don’t hear the other moaning Johnny’s name.
Thinking about f!reader going to the doctor alone to find out she’s pregnant but it’s possible it could be either Johnny’s or Simon’s. Telling Simon the news and his heart cracks open in a new way when you say that you hope it’s Johnny’s baby.
The makers of Kinktober 2025 are back again with a brand new list! The graphics are once again created by latte-cucumber. Check out our AO3 collection, or keep reading for more information.
More information
Kinktober is a kinky October prompt challenge that’s been running in one form or another since 2016. There are three prompts for each day in October, and the challenge is to use one (or more!) of the prompts to create something for that day. If you don’t want to use any of the three daily prompts, you can swap them out for the bonus prompts at the bottom of the prompt list.
If you have any questions, check our FAQs. Unfortunately, due to personal commitments, we won't be opening our askbox for questions this year. We've made it as rules-light as possible, though, so if your question is "Can I do this?", the answer is almost certainly yes!
Price: *looking up from his tea* Should I even ask?
Simon:
Price:
Gaz: Suds was doing that cinder block cross pull while shirtless from the Arrow tv show. Simon was watching him.. not where he was going. And cracked his ankles on the trailer hitch.
Simon: *grumbling* Was not
Gaz: You could literally count the sweat beads glistening off his back muscles
Simon: Twenty five
Price:
Gaz: Excuse me?
Simon: It’s twenty five beads of sweat
Price: Funny how you can do math on that but can’t protect your ankles Simon
Johnny’s kid gets the red hair from his dad’s side.
And Simon’s kid? Simon’s kid has his eyes, hair and nose. When they were born the hair was darker and eyes blue while the nose was 100% Simon. He was happy that was the only thing the kid got from him. Until they got older. Their hair grew out, leaving dark tuffs on the ends of wispy blonde hair. Their eyes turning to that dark brown like he had. He hated that. Not that he hated his kid, god he could never hate his kid. He just hates that they look like him, look like his dad.
Your tiktok feed has been filled with spouses packing lunch for their husbands, making neat little meals. You thought it would be fun to film your own!
"Come pack my husbands lunch for a fourteen hour shift!" You happily narrate, ready to show off the meal for ghost that you have down to a science.
One container of last nights leftovers for him to eat in the morning when he gets in. A fresh sandwich with sauce on the side to avoid soggy bread. Beans, rice, and steamed veggies in another box. Of course, the insulated thermos gets some hot soup to keep him warm throughout the day. Two electrolyte drinks, two water bottles though you know he always forgets to drink them.
As always, you make sure to fill it with snacks for him to pick at through the day. Crisps, trail mix, those gummy worms he loves to much.
All that is topped with a hand-written note, though you don't let the camera see that. It's private between you and ghost!
You post the video and move on with your day, only to become upset when you see the comments on it a few days later.
"No way he eats all that!"
"That's just for show. Totally unrealistic! No one needs all those snacks!"
"Do you not expect him to come back for three days??"
The solution? Responding with a video of your beloved husband at dinner that night.
Ghost, a giant of a man hunched over his plate and scarfing down pasta. It's a bit difficult to film, seeing as He's holding your hand like the clingy man he is. Still. You think the sheer size of him and the hunger he has speaks for itself.
The comments after that seem to come to a consensus
"Actually? Absolutely valid. Keep feeding him."
After that, you occasionally post the food you cook for you and your husband and watch in delight as people comment in awe.
Inspired by a chat with @cod-enthusiast and @quarterlifekitty in the discord chat <33
