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Flames of Affection

Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Johnny Storm finds himself falling for someone who isn’t afraid of his powers or his cocky attitude. 

It was a warm evening in New York, and Johnny Storm had never felt more alive.

The city’s skyline stretched out before him, with the glow of streetlights below competing with the starlit sky above. But what really caught his attention was you, sitting beside him on the rooftop of the Baxter Building, your legs dangling off the edge, a casual grin on your face.

“You know, you could’ve picked a less dramatic spot,” you teased, your voice soft, yet playful.

Johnny chuckled, his usual smirk lighting up his face. “What’s the fun in that? A rooftop view and a little danger? Perfect combo.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. “You’re impossible, Johnny.” You used to fear heights. But not with Johnny. Not when you knew someone was there to catch you in case you fell.

“Maybe,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “But you like it.” His tone was light but had an edge of warmth, something he didn’t often show to anyone.

You glanced at him, catching the small change in his usual cocky demeanour. “I don’t know... I might be getting used to you, Storm.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Used to me, huh? You sure you’re not falling for my charm?”

You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the stars. “Maybe a little.”

Johnny’s heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. As if they didn’t just see the hotshot superhero but a guy who was real. A guy with flaws and desires and all the things he sometimes kept hidden behind his flames and his hero persona.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just a guy with fire powers and a bad attitude. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m not,” you said, looking at him with a knowing look. “But you’re more than that, Johnny. I see it.”

For a moment, silence fell between you both, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. The sound of the city below was a distant hum.

Johnny’s fingers played with the hem of his jacket. “You know, most people get nervous around me. Think I might burn them alive or something.”

You looked at him, a genuine expression on your face. “I’m not most people.”

Johnny grinned. “I like that about you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, but it was soft, the usual fire in his voice replaced with something gentler. “You really think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re confident, sure, but you’re also...” You searched for the right word. “Real. Like, you have this mask on sometimes, but I can tell it’s not the whole story.”

He was quiet for a second, considering your words.

He never really let people see past the surface. But with you, he felt like he could, because he didn’t have to pretend.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” You smiled at him, your eyes softening. “Maybe. But I like who you are underneath.”

Johnny felt something stir in his chest, something warm that wasn’t fire but felt just as intense. “I think I like you, you know.”

“You think?” you teased, turning to face him more fully.

He met your gaze, his playful grin now genuine. “I know.”

Before you could respond, Johnny’s hand brushed against yours, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

He didn’t pull away, just let his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary. The spark was undeniable.

You looked at him, and there was an unspoken understanding between you both. Johnny leaned in, just a little, and you did the same.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed or fiery like he expected. It was gentle, full of warmth, the kind that made his heart beat a little faster than normal.

His hand cupped the side of your face, and you responded with equal tenderness, your lips soft and inviting.

When you finally pulled away, he smiled, his usual bravado replaced with something sweeter. “Guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

You chuckled, your face flushed. “Neither was I.”

Johnny rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So... what happens now?”

You smirked a hint of mischief in your eyes. “We keep hanging out. Keep talking and keep kissing. And see where this goes.”

“Yeah?” Johnny laughed a little. “I can get behind that.”

You leaned back again, both of you staring up at the sky, now filled with the quiet glow of the stars.

Johnny’s hand found yours, and you laced your fingers together without thinking.

There was something easy about being with him, something natural. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that Johnny Storm was a superhero with fire in his veins.

All that mattered was the connection you shared, one that was just as real as the flames he could summon with a snap of his fingers.

And it was enough.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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Johnny Storm x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Johnny Storm was usually a natural flirt, but something about Franklin's teacher had him losing his mind.

WC: 1.5k

Warnings: female!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Divider credit to @saradika-graphics

Note: Do we want a part two, or should this stand alone?

“Um, hello?” The door to the living area swung open, revealing one furious Johnny Storm and a much more jovial Franklin Richards. 

“First,” Sue arched one eyebrow, taking in the sight of her five-year-old son. “I want to know what is all over Franklin’s face.”

Franklin clapped his sticky hands together. “Uncle Johnny bought me ice cream! In a cone!”

Sue huffed out an annoyed sigh, directing her glare at Johnny. “And why is he eating ice cream now? Now he won’t be hungry for dinner.” 

Reed bit back a smirk as he stretched his arm across the room and plucked a tissue from its box. He wiped the chocolatey residue from Franklin’s mouth before sending him to wash up. 

Johnny rolled his eyes, irritated that his sister thought he needed a reason to spoil his nephew. “The real question is, why did no one tell me that Franklin’s teacher is a total babe?”

The other three members of the team offered up their paltry reasons. 

“Why is that important?” Sue stood up from where she sat next to her husband. She put her hands on her hips, ready to launch into a full lecture about not spoiling Franklin’s appetite, but Johnny already turned his attention to Reed. 

“I’m a married man.” Reed gestured to the band on his fourth finger. “I don’t go around discussing how attractive other women are.”

Ben shrugged, flipping to the next page of the New York Times. “I just wanted to see you get all twitchy.”

Johnny flipped him off, his anger boiling beneath his skin. “Well, a heads-up would’ve been nice,” he grumbled, stalking into the kitchen and grabbing the first box of cereal he could find. 

Bran Flakes. Pass. 

“We’re out of Frosted Flakes,” Sue told him. 

“Ugh.” He shoved the Bran Flakes back into the pantry and flopped down on the closest chair. “Today is not my day.”

Something softened in Sue. Maybe it was seeing her baby brother so upset, or maybe she was feeling less resentful about Franklin’s impromptu snack now that Johnny was missing out on one. 

She gently mussed his blond hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Johnny scowled. Not even a second later, he sprung forward, elbows digging into the table top. “I went to the school, expecting to see some decrepit old lady like his preschool teacher—”

“Wasn’t Mrs. Luft, like, fifty?” Ben quipped. 

As usual, Johnny ignored him. “But then I saw her. She was in this plaid skirt with this shirt that, y’know…she wasn’t showing anything off, but it gave me…ideas.”

“Seriously?” Sue massaged the bridge of her nose. “We don’t wanna hear about your ‘ideas.’ Just please tell me you didn’t get Franklin kicked out of school.”

“Have a little faith in me.” Johnny scoffed. “I just smiled at her. I think. Actually, I might have just…stared?” 

No one missed his visible cringe. 

The room remained uncomfortably silent until Ben spoke up. “You just stared at her? Like…” He mimicked a dead fish, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Did you at least introduce yourself so she didn’t think some random man was abducting Franklin?” Reed asked, tone heavy with annoyance. He turned on the television set, staring at as the anchor delivered the news in black-and-white. “The last thing we need is people thinking we’re under attack.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Johnny rolled his bright blue eyes. “Everyone knows Johnny Storm.”

Even in his panic-stricken state, Reed couldn’t argue with that logic. It wasn’t as though there was another person in New York City who could soar through the air, body ablaze.

Sue let out a long breath. “Well,” she finally said, “looks like Ben will be in charge of pick-up from now–”

“No!” Johnny burst out. “Give me a chance to redeem myself tomorrow. I won’t be weird.”

“Gonna be hard to beat today’s romantic staring contest,” Ben muttered under his breath, not bothering to hide his grin.

Johnny stalked over to where Ben sat reading. Without uttering a single word, he sparked flames at his fingertips and incinerated Ben’s newspaper into an unidentifiable pile of ash.

“Oops.”

The next day at three in the afternoon, Johnny was waiting outside of the school. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans for the fifth time in as many minutes.

He hadn’t looked forward to the sound of the schoolbell ringing since he was a student. And he certainly never felt anxious about it.

Pull it together, Johnny. You’re the Human Torch, for crying out loud. 

But unless his powers suddenly afforded him the ability to flirt with you, his superhero status was a moot point.

Sure enough, Franklin bounded down the steps alongside his classmates. He waved to Johnny with a mile-wide smile.

This is it. Go over there, introduce yourself, and ask her if she’d like to go out for a drink. No, dinner and a movie. Don’t want her thinking I’m trying to get her drunk.

Through his rattling nerves, Johnny managed a smile when he approached you, silently vowing not to screw this up again. He extended his hand, eyeing it to keep it from shaking.

“I’m, uh, I’m Johnny–” he started, but he was quickly interrupted by an overly-enthusiastic Franklin.

“Uncle Johnny! I remembered to tell her about how you got me ice cream, just like you told me to!”

Never in Johnny’s life had he envied his sister’s invisibility powers. Until now.

He didn’t need a mirror to know that the tips of his ears were bright red. He wanted to melt into a puddle and slither down the sidewalk and into the nearest drain.

Yes, he’d bought Franklin ice cream yesterday. Yes, he might have told him to tell his teacher about it. He didn’t expect his nephew to blatantly rat him out.

Note to self, he thought bitterly, teach Franklin the meaning of the word ‘secret.’

“And I told her what you said to Mommy, Daddy, and Uncle Ben, too!”

Johnny choked on his own saliva. There was no way Franklin heard what he’d said last night from his room…right?

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Bud, I didn’t say anything about–”

“Yes, you did!” Franklin insisted. He crossed his arms over his chest in indignation, looking scarily like his mother when she was angry. “You said that she was a total babe!”

Johnny clapped a hand over his nephew’s mouth a fraction of a second too late. The damage was already done.

He forced himself to look at you. You didn’t seem disgusted or even embarrassed; in fact, Johnny could’ve sworn you were fighting back laughter.

“Bud, go play with your friends for a few minutes, okay?”

“But–”

“Go play with your friends,” he hissed, “and I will buy you more ice cream.”

Franklin ran off to the playground and joined his classmates without another argument, no doubt already figuring out how to finagle his uncle for a double scoop.

Johnny shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I am so sorry about him,” he said. “We’re still trying to find his ‘off’ switch, but, uh, no luck so far.”

This time, you didn’t hold back your laughter. “Don’t worry about it. Kids say the craziest things. I never know what’s true and what isn’t.”

There it was–an out. You’d offered it to him on a silver platter; all he had to do was pretend that Franklin made the whole thing up and he’d be home free.

Instead, he swallowed his pride and summoned all of his courage. “I didn’t mean for him to overhear that. I would’ve preferred that the first compliment from me was something a little less…”

“Blunt?” 

“I was gonna say douchey, but that works.” 

You giggled, and Johnny thought he might fall over on the spot. “What kind of compliment were you thinking?”

“Oh, I dunno.” He flashed you one of his signature flirtatious grins. “Maybe that you’re beautiful, or smart, or have the patience of a saint to deal with all of these little gremlins.” He took another step forward. “If you’re free tomorrow, I could tell you more of them over dinner?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Depends.” He coyly pursed his lips. “Are you accepting?”

There was another peal of your delicious laughter as you reached for the pen tucked behind your ear. “Here’s my number.” You took Johnny’s hand, palm up, and scrawled down the most incredible ten digits he had ever seen.

“I’ll call you,” he promised. 

A date. You’d agreed to a date.

Johnny had to pick out an outfit and figure out something with his hair and buy you flowers–but first, he had something more pressing to address.

“FRANKLIN RICHARDS, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT BEING A TATTLETALE?!!”   

--

[defututus]

Ok but consider this:

They were only pretending to break the first two rules. Dave was actually jorkin it, so it’s like

“Even Dave?”

“What about him”

“He was pretending to jerk off the other night, right?”

Dave quickly replies with the mayo in a bag trick before either of the other members can say anything, but Jeff and Gareth are staring at each other in confusion because they never planned that.

They decide it’s better to never speak about it.

Corroded Coffin Fest 2025 - Day 30 - Six Days on the Road

Summary: Eddie Munson experiences the road trip from hell.

Word Count: 999

Rating: M

Warnings/Themes: Boys will be boys, friendship, angst, humor, psychological torture.

Note: The three rules for the van have been mentioned in a previous CCFest entry of mine from the Halloween 7 Deadly Sins Event. I did a little bit of a road trip update for it.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! There's still a couple of days left! <3

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Eddie was the kind of person who liked being on the road.

He liked being behind the wheel and seeing the stretch of open road. His uncle said that it must've been hereditary, since he had been a long haul driver previously.

But after six days on the road with his idiot friends, going from one county fair to another, playing show after show after show, he was getting ready to leave them at a gas station and not look back.

"There are three rules," he told them before they embarked on this trip. "Three. Simple. Rules."

"Eddie, I think we know the ru--" Gareth began but Eddie cut him off.

"No, dingus." He pointed at his friends threateningly. "This is different. You're gonna start to lose your minds. And when that little demon on your shoulder tells you to break my rules, remember that no divine punishment will ever match my wrath."

And wouldn't you know? They broke all three.

1. Eddie would drive, but you had to pay for snacks and gas.

Jeff had gone into the little convenience store with Eddie. When they got to the register and neither of them made a move to pay, Eddie nudged him and gestured to the cashier.

"Well, this isn't like normal," Jeff just shrugged.

"What do you mean? It's my van. I'm driving. Therefore..."

"But this is official Corroded Coffin business."

"And?"

"And the gas and snacks come from our discretional spending fund."

Eddie stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"We don't have discretional spending funds, Jeffy," he hissed. "Is this your way of telling me that you didn't bring gas or snack money?"

"None of us did."

As Eddie fished his wallet out of his pocket, grateful that he'd had the good sense to bring extra cash, he debated turning the van around right then.

But the show must go on. They'd be fine.

2. Everything in the van was fair game, just don't fuck with Eddie's tapes.

This one...this one was an accident. It had to be. Eddie would give that to them.

Actually, it might even have been his own fault. About halfway through their trip, he'd passed his shoebox full of cassettes back to Dave and Gareth and told them to pick something.

"It's between The Ultimate Sin," Dave said. "Or Slide it In. I vote Whitesnake."

"Nuh uh," Gareth scoffed. "It has to be Ozzy. Come on, lemme see that."

Eddie didn't witness the destruction of his precious tapes, but he heard them quarrel and then the hard, plastic crunch.

The air in the van seemed to go cold.

"What was that?" Eddie asked with an edge to his voice.

"N-nothing," Dave replied.

"Really? Because it sounded like something!"

Jeff turned around and Eddie witnessed the fear that flashed in his eyes.

Suddenly Dave was stammering. "I-It was G-Gareth!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Shut up!" Eddie shouted, and they all shut their traps. He breathed in deeply and then gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "It was an accident. It's alright. No big deal. Just pass the box up to Jeff and he'll choose something."

The shoebox was handed up and Eddie winced as he spotted the mangled cassettes.

"Actually, you know what?" he said, voice an octave too high. "We're just gonna drive in silence for a little while."

The third and most sacred rule was broken in the middle of the night before they were due to get home.

3. There was no jerkin' it in his van.

It was Dave who committed the sin.

To save money, they usually opted to sleep in the van. No big deal. They'd done it before. Usually, it was a pretty sound sleep, all of them snug as a bug together. But as Eddie was woken up in the middle of the night to several...suspicious noises, he had to remind himself how much he loved his three best friends.

He could've tolerated one of them crapping their pants and staining his seats.

But this?

The labored breathing, the shuffle, the squelching noises. The van was even rocking a little bit from the...vigor.

There was a moan and Eddie couldn't take it anymore.

"Davey?" Eddie spoke, voice hard and clear.

Everything ceased.

"Y-yeah Ed?" Dave choked out after a few seconds.

"You ok there? Seems like you're having some trouble."

There was a shift and Dave let out a long, barely audible groan. Eddie closed his eyes and resigned himself to accepting that Dave just...

He didn't even want to think about it.

"I'm fine now," Dave replied. "Just indigestion. Gonna go back to sleep now. Night."

"Night."

The drive home was tense. Eddie spoke in clipped tones, trying to keep his cool.

He didn't even say goodbye as they jumped out and headed inside their respective houses. He could scream once he got to the trailer. He could break things. And he would.

Jeff was the last person he dropped off before Eddie drove home. He silently slid from the passenger's seat and started up his driveway. About halfway to the door, he stopped, turned around.

"Hey Ed?"

"Yeah."

He walked back down to the passenger's side door and leaned into the window. He fished something out of his pocket and held it out to Eddie. Eddie hesitantly took it.

It was enough cash to cover the expenses for the week, plus two fully intact copies of the broken tapes.

"We just wanted to prank you man," Jeff explained. "It was all a joke."

Eddie felt his mouth go dry.

"Even Dave?" he asked.

"Some good acting and a plastic bag full of mayonnaise."

His vision blurred, and he felt lightheaded. He dropped the objects onto the seat and then waved Jeff closer. The other boy leaned into the window before Eddie grabbed the collar of his shirt with an unforgiving grip.

"You better get inside now," he started, calmly, then he shouted. "OR I'M GONNA RUN YOU OVER JEFFREY!"

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Centerfold Shit Pairing: Mac (Warfare) x Not-So-Single-Mom!Reader Summary: You have a question about lingerie, and Mac has a surprising answer that is so going to get him laid. Contains: Losers in love, finding beauty in simplicity, ass. Words: 500ish

"Hypothetically," you begin, stroking the soft hair of the head that's resting in the crook of your neck, "if a moderately attractive lady were to shop for something lingerie-adjacent, what color d'you suppose an elderly Marine might like best?"

Mac's shoulders shake as he laughs silently at your hypothetical question, and since you're basically glued together in bed, you shake a little too. He thinks about it for a second, and then he sighs.

"Honestly?"

"Black, white, or red," you cut him off before he can tell you that you'll look great in anything. You know he'll like whatever you buy. But people have preferences, dammit, and you want to know his.

"Green."

"Green?" you question. You weren't expecting green. "Like… Emerald? Forest? Lime? Olive?"

"Jesus," Mac laughs, "whatever you wanna call this." He splays his fingers across your stomach, which is covered in an old green t-shirt he left behind once and you refused to give back. It's plain. There's a hole on the lower right hand-side, from where you once gave him a particularly enthusiastic kiss in greeting, and his brain went haywire and he tried to jam his keys into his pocket through his shirt.

"Hm," you hum, picking at the faded fabric. That's not gonna be easy to match. "I'll look around, see what I can do."

"I don't mean like this," he clarifies, lifting his head and looking up at you finally. "I mean this." He tugs at the soft cotton for emphasis.

"I'm offering you lingerie and you're telling me you prefer a ratty old t-shirt?"

"My ratty old t-shirt, thank you very much," he grins.

"Just because I'm not usually wearing anything under it," you dismiss him with a roll of your eyes.

"I mean… I do enjoy that," he grins, dipping his head down to nudge your nipple with his nose. "But when you're in this, it means you're comfortable. It means it's just us, and we don't have anywhere to be but here. It means you have a house full of your own clothes, but you picked something of mine because it reminds you of me… it's because it reminds you of me, right?" You nod, and he smiles brightly and continues. "Plus, the color makes your eyes look even prettier than they already are. And the way it falls on your hips makes your legs look fucking phenomenal. Centerfold shit. Are you getting the picture, or shall I continue?"

"I think I got it," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes at the contact, and when he opens them again, there's a mischievous glint in them.

"Plus, when you bend over or reach for something, I get a flash of ass, and it's almost always the high point of my day," he grins.

"Wow, thanks," you deadpan.

Mac grins and presses his face into the valley between your breasts. He circles his arms around you and holds you to him while he rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. Your knees find the mattress, and his hands quickly find your ass.

Which, thanks to that old t-shirt that's ridden up, is his for the taking.

[defututus]

Eddie would absolutely have Month Python & The Holy Grail MEMORIZED. You’d be cradling his dying body in your arms he weakly mutters, “it’s just a flesh wound” before he DIES

I'm bothering my friends with theories so I thought I'd bother everyone on here again too. I still want to know why they put all the time, effort and resources into the injuries on Eddie's body if they weren't going to be shown. There isn't a single shot where you see his entire torso except when the bats are holding him down, and at that point he has no bites.

The bites aren't that deep and even though he is bleeding quite a bit, it's still not a life threatening amount. We do see the wound on his neck...but if it was a fatal bite through the jugular he'd be bleeding out and probably not able to speak...right?

I'm just saying...I'm just thinking...I'm just hoping...that they have the makeup mapped out and numbered so *in the future* they can still match the work.

I need a hobby.

[defututus]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: two superheroes, johnny and y/n are sneaking around behind the teams back, assuming their relationship rendezvous are underwraps. little do they know, the entire team already knew!

aka, how the team found out johnny and y/n were dating!

(slight spoilers for fantastic four: first steps! nothing major, just plot points and relationship dynamic but please proceed with caution if you have not watched the film yet!)

johnny storm x fem!reader (wc: 4.0K)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐎𝐑 rather delusion, you and Johnny should have kept your relationship a secret. Sure, you had saved the world multiple times and fought so many interdimensional villains; but it seemed your limit, or weakness was keeping a very private and very real relationship a secret to your team.

At first, you hadn’t intended it to be a secret from the people you loved and trusted so much, it all just happened at the wrong time.

Johnny had planned on casually announcing it at the Sunday dinner, after you had talked him down from the long speech he had written in the palm of his hand. But it so happened to be the night that Ben figured out that Sue was pregnant. And being the unselfish people you are, opted to keep the spotlight on Sue and her pregnant glow and figure out another time to tell everyone.

That other time being when your earth was threatened and on the verge of being destroyed. It appears that the universe did not appreciate the love between the two superheroes.

And from that point onwards, you and Johnny decided that it was the universe telling you to keep your relationship a secret. And so you did.

For about a month. Maximum. 

Apparently being in a relationship with Johnny ‘loves women’ Storm meant you couldn’t keep your hands off each other for less than a minute; because according to him, if he didn’t have his hands on you, he’ll approach supernova and set fire to the earth’s atmosphere and kill all human life as you know it.

His words, not mine.

Which led to one of the worst kept secrets in Earth-828 and being in a house with literal geniuses and the world's smartest man, your private rendezvous with Johnny didn’t remain private for that long.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ④ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sue Storm was the first to find out, she knew her brother well and could tell something was off when he seemed to spend more time in his room than usual and held a shit-eating grin at 8:00 in the morning; his designated time to frown and tuck into his cereal.

She never verbalised it to him, knowing Johnny would throw accusations at her and somehow blame Reed for all of this. So she stayed quiet and in question, allowing her brother to keep his private life to himself.

But by chance, if she happened to walk into something she was never meant to see, then Sue couldn’t say she was actively invading his private life.

“Johnny!” Sue shouted as she stormed towards his room, his door closed and protecting whatever was inside. 

The Invisible Woman groaned as her brother didn’t respond, annoyed that he was clearly still asleep way into the afternoon and still in possession of what she was after.

Sue knocked on the door, “Johnny! You’ve got the baby monitor from last night, can I have it back?” She sighed as the room remained silent.

She knocked harder this time, “Seriously, Johnny! You said you’d give it back yesterday after you put Franklin down!”

The room was void of any response and Johnny, inside the room, made absolutely no effort to move. Sue couldn’t even hear the sounds of the bed cover rustling when she thought Johnny had finally woken up and got the memo, but there was no movement inside Johnny’s room.

Sue grew agitated, yet wanted to allow Johnny his privacy and didn’t barge in (yet). “It’s embarrassing that you’re still asleep at this hour, you know?” She teased from the other side of the door, expecting Johnny to groan and chirp out a witty comeback that would make Sue slap the back of his head; but again, nothing.

“I’m not joking around anymore! I’ll come in and get it myself!” Sue warned and put her hands on her hips, counting to 10 which would allow Johnny to get decent or respond.

“Whatever, I’m doing this myself.” Sue muttered to herself and barged through her brother’s door, eyes scanning the room for her baby monitor.

Sue’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes landed on Johnny’s bed and how he was curled in on his side with his mouth open and little snores escaping them. But it was the woman his arms were wrapped around who shocked her.

She was aware Johnny loved women and he definitely wouldn’t be opposed to inviting one into his bed. But inviting one into the Baxter Building with the entire team a few doors away, surprised her to no end.

Either the woman was the real deal for Johnny and he only brought her in here because he truly trusts and loves her; or that she was a massive fan and when she sits up, she’d be sporting an ‘I Love Reed Richards’ shirt.

“Uhh…” Sue looked anywhere but the bed, embarrassed to walk into the two sleeping figures but she was on a mission to find her baby monitor.

As she searched Johnny’s room, Sue couldn’t shake off the fact that she knew that head of hair on the woman, it felt familiar. There were definitely multiple women with the same hair colour but none identical to the one that laid out on her brother’s pillow, strands twisted in his hand.

Sue squinted her eyes as her footsteps took her closer to the pair on the bed, Johnny’s large bedtime shirt engulfing the mysterious woman while he laid shirtless with plaid pyjama bottoms on that were short at the shin on him.

She recognised the woman. Sure, she had saved the world a couple times and recognised a few faces along the way. But she was different, this woman wasn’t just some person, she felt familiar…

Hell, she even looked like--

“Y/N?” Johnny groaned as he nestled his head into your shoulder.

Sue gasped and quickly turned herself invisible, holding her breath as she watched you turn around and lie face to face with Johnny. 

“Yeah?” You mumbled in response and thread your hands through Johnny's blonde hair, feeling his body grow warmer against you, a habit he had when he felt satisfied.

Sue slowly backed towards the door, baby monitor clutched in her hand. She thanked everything that Johnny was so enchanted by you that he didn’t look over your shoulder to see a floating baby monitor backtracking to his door.

Johnny sighed in content and pressed soft kisses to your neck, “Stay here for a little bit longer.” He mumbled into your skin.

You breathed out a laugh and let Johnny do how he pleased, while your words contradicted his, “No, Johnny. You know I’ve got to meet Reed in the lab soon--” “So? Who cares about Reed?” Johnny shrugged.

Sue’s mouth dropped open slightly, mouthing a silent ‘Me!’. 

“Johnny!” You scolded him and playfully pushed his shoulder, but he didn’t budge and instead propped an arm up to hover above you slightly.

“I need you more than Reed. He’ll make you go over some dumb equation. Stay with your hot boyfriend who needs another hour with you, minimum.” Johnny grinned and brushed stray hairs from your face.

You quirked a brow, “Was that a play on words? ‘Hot boyfriend’?” Johnny smirked, “Maybe. Did you notice?”

“Yes, I did.” You laughed and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and letting his body heat convince you to stay a little while longer. No! No, you had work to do with Reed.

Johnny leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, feeling him smile into the kiss and his other hand cupped your cheek. “Johnny! I have to meet Reed!” You giggled into the kiss, but made no effort to shove him away.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t say my brother-in-law's name while I’m kissing you.” He pulled away with his nose scrunched up, but a quick shake of his head and eyes widening made him lean down to try and kiss you again.

Sue grimaces from across the room. Of course Johnny would say something like that, he might be the Human Torch but he’ll always be Sue’s strange little brother to her.

“We’ll get caught if I stay any longer.” You protested and raised your brows. “You make a good point, beautiful.” Johnny smiled, “But I don’t care.” 

As he shuffled to hover over you completely, Sue cringed and took this as her cue to leave, coming back with a lot more than she had intended.

As she ventured out the room, she walked into Johnny’s record player which screeched uncomfortably against the flooring, causing Sue to freeze her movements as she remained invisible.

Both yours and Johnny’s head snapped towards the sound, lips swollen from the kisses and bed hair evident. Your brows furrowed for a moment but Johnny didn’t seem all that concerned.

He turned back to you and shrugged, “Probably Ben moving around upstairs or something.” He mumbled and went in to kiss you which you intercepted with your hand.

“Now you’re the one bringing up other team members while trying to kiss me!” You laughed and teased his earlier comment, causing him to groan and bow his head into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” Johnny chuckled and moved off of you, letting you begin with your day.

However, neither of you noticed the Invisible Woman quickly dart out the room and didn’t question why the door was open when you swore you shut it before you fell asleep.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ④ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

The way Reed Richards found out was completely out of your control. Partially.

“That’s strange…” Reed muttered as he looked through his data beside him, your arm grasped in his hand as he did his usual checkup, being superheroes and all.

Your head turned to face him, pulling you out of your conversation with Johnny who was sitting on the table behind you, arms crossed against his chest. “What’s wrong?” You tilted your head.

“It’s just… I’ve never seen something like this before.” Reed stood and walked over to his chalkboard, hands moving frantically to try and figure out the cause of this.

“Something wrong with her, Reed?” Johnny stood, concerned and stepped towards you, fingers brushing your shoulder as you stayed sitting in your chair. Reed didn’t answer and repeatedly mumbled to himself, eyes closing for a moment to go over equations and solutions in his head.

Reed shook his head, turning back to face the pair of you, “Not particularly, no.” You and Johnny looked at each other with furrowed brows. “Out of the ordinary, yes. But nothing’s wrong with you.” Reed concluded and sat back down in his seat, shuffling the chair closer to yours so he could give you the debrief.

“So, what is it?” You questioned and crossed your legs over in the chair. 

“Your body temperature is a lot higher than usual.” Reed nodded. You shook your head, “I don’t get it. Is that a bad thing?”

“No! It would be if it was any other person but the slight concern is that your body temperature is far beyond the average. It’s like for a moment your vitals proved you could have reached full body on fire if you were a normal person.” Reed relayed and defended your spot in the team. 

You squint your eyes and felt Johnny tense up slightly behind you, “Huh…” You said quietly. Feeling like you already knew the cause to your body practically turning into the sun’s heat, you stood up to leave, “That’ll be all--”

“I think I’ve determined the cause of your issue, Y/N.” Reed stood just as quick as you, rounding you to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, sheets gripped in his hand and he pointed across the data.

“If you see here,” He pointed at your vitals, “It’s like your body has been exposed to too much heat consistently.” Your eyes widened and you subtly turned your head to see Johnny’s face paling.

“You sure it’s not just a coincidence?” Johnny stepped closer and read your data, laughing nervously and taking a sip of water.

Reed tutted, “Absolutely not, Johnny.” He handed you the data and pointed at your temperature in a bold font, “You’ve experienced this temperature so much that it’s practically becoming part of your DNA.”

Johnny choked on his water and coughed loud enough for Reed’s attention to be turned onto him, “You alright?” He moved closer to him and rubbed his back, glad Reed had missed your bright red face and wide eyes.

The blonde wiped his face and looked at you, “So what? You’re saying if she keeps… being exposed to this heat, we’ll have a female human torch walking down the street?” His voice raised and he flailed his arms between himself and you.

Your mouth opened at Johnny’s not-so-subtle question, “Johnny!--”

“No, you’re the only human torch we’ll have, don’t worry about that.” Reed reassured him, “What on earth could be causing this heat, what have you been exposed to…” He trailed off and turned his back to the couple.

You snapped your head to Johnny and whisper-shouted at him, “Are you kidding me?”

Johnny’s cheeks were flushed and he set his drink back down on the table, “What?” He said exasperated. “Way to make it obvious!” You said to him.

“Not my fault that Reed’s basically said that when we have kids--” “Sorry, did you just say ‘when’?” You cut him off and your mouth fell open.

Johnny chose to ignore you, “That our children will basically be mini superhero versions of us because apparently my super hot DNA - pun intended by the way! - will be a part of our kids!” He breathed out, making wild gestures with his hands.

“That is so not what Reed said!” You laughed and Johnny spiralling. “That’s so what he said!” Johnny’s voice raised slightly but you could see a grin fighting to appear on his face.

Across the room, Reed laughed to himself, “Hey, Y/N.” He called out but you failed to hear him, “It’s almost as if you’re around Johnny too much--”

Reed trailed off as his mind worked faster than his words. Temperature. DNA. Exposure. Johnny is the Human Torch. Johnny exudes heat. 

Johnny was the heat you were exposed to consistently. You were dating--

“Johnny Storm!” Reed said out loud which made you and Johnny snap your heads to him, breaking you out of your mini / private conversation.

“Yeah?” Johnny shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as if his little breakdown didn’t happen and casually pretended that he hadn’t told you he wanted a future with you via Reed’s overanalysed data.

For the first time, the smartest man in the world was lost for words. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised it sooner. He probably should’ve raised questions when Johnny practically sold himself out and brought up his Human Torch persona after a lengthy discussion on your DNA; but Reed was good at science, not relationship! (Sue could prove this point).

“Nothing!” Reed quickly scooped up his work and darted for the lab door, “Need to find Sue for something, got the Storm siblings mixed up!” Johnny furrowed his brows, not believing his brother-in-law. 

“Alright… So, Y/N’s fine?” Johnny asked, standing too close to you and asking about your wellbeing too much for you to be ‘just friends’, it was all coming together in Reed’s head now.

“She’s fine,” Reed nodded and turned to the door, "Especially now she’s with you.” He laughed to himself but Johnny didn’t catch the last part.

“What did you say?” You and Johnny questioned, confused by Reed’s sudden departure, the lab was basically his second home. More like his first home, actually.

“I didn’t say anything!” Reed quickly left the room and made a beeline for his and Sue’s room, finding her curled up on the bed with Franklin on her lap and a book between her hands.

Reed dropped his data and stood in the doorway, “Did you know that Johnny and Y/N are dating--”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ④ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

To some extent, Ben Grimm always knew that Johnny was dating you, being the closest to him and able to see through his poorly attempted lies.

Over the last few weeks, Ben was more observant of you and Johnny, especially on the battlefield.

Being rational in interdimensional fights, Johnny’s actions drove Ben insane sometimes; specifically the times when Johnny would find any excuse to flirt with you while you fought to save their earth.

“Y/N!” Johnny flew down and landed next to you, panting with a smug smile on his face. You turned around and saw your boyfriend approaching in his light blue suit that he wore so well.

“Oh, God.” You groaned playfully as you knew Johnny was up to no good. Ben, a couple feet away from you, watched the Human Torch gravitate towards you as if it was normal.

“Let’s play truth or dare?” Johnny smiled and his height towered over you. You looked up at him as if he’d grown two heads, “Seriously, Johnny! We’re in the middle of a fight!”

The blonde shrugged as if it was nothing, “So? Hasn’t stopped us before.” You rolled your eyes and started walking to Ben who was helping your earth while also eavesdropping on your conversation with Johnny. “You’re impossible.” You laughed as Johnny jogged to keep up with you before standing in your way.

“Just ask me.” He winked. You looked up at him and tutted, “Fine. Truth or--”

“Dare. I’ll do dare.” Johnny interrupted you which made you scrunch up your face and your mind couldn’t come up with one to satisfy Johnny’s risk-taking approach to life. “I don’t know!” You gestured, “I can’t come up with one right now, ask me later.” You tried to walk past him and continue protecting your earth.

“I’ve got one!” Johnny exclaimed. You wondered if Johnny had known this whole time what he wanted to do, maybe even while he was fighting, bored out of his mind that it spiralled into this. “You should dare me to take down this guy in under three minutes.”

You tilted your head, “Why would I do that?” 

You watched Johnny scan the area, obviously not thoroughly because he failed to see the bright orange Thing in the corner of his eye, before he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “If I do it then I believe I deserve a reward tonight.”

You raised your brows, “And what would that reward be, Johnny?” A smile crept up onto your face as Johnny looked at you as if the answer was obvious.

“I think you know, Y/N.” Johnny winked and you nodded at him, agreeing to his dare. He chuckled and looked back at you one more time before flying off to complete his mission; only suggesting it in the first place because Johnny knew he could do it in under three minutes.

If he was being honest, he could do it in under one minute. But he had to stay humble, for once.

Ben shook his head at Johnny who chose the wrong time to flirt, but confused by his proposal. Would your reward to him be those personal cookies you made so well that had everyone in Baxter Building asking for more. They had the recipe, it just didn’t taste as good as yours.

Ben’s train of thought was cut short as more threats came his way, deciding to prioritise the earth’s safety over Johnny and his painfully obvious flirting with you, but of course, you would never date him!

Sure, the reward was personal as Ben had suspected. Just not the… type of personal he had initially thought.

And Ben would find that out later that night as he sat with Herbie and tasted the sauce the pair had made. “Is that too strong?” Ben turned to Herbie, his chirps and beeps a valid enough answer for him.

He lifted his head as he saw you and Johnny burst into the building, not seeing The Thing in the kitchen part of the room. 

Johnny’s arm was slung over your shoulder and you were lent into his side, clearly just coming back from the debrief after the mission. “So, I did it in under three minutes.” Johnny’s hand twisted into your hair and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“That’s right…” You hummed. “Can I cash my reward now?” Johnny licked his lips and watched as you pretended to deliberate on the question. “You know you can.” You whispered.

Across the room, Ben heard your answer and shuffled stuff on the kitchen countertop to make room for you and your ingredients, still thinking you were about to offer Johnny your famous cookies.

Ben turned around and his smile was wiped off his face as he saw Johnny lean down to connect your lips, ducking down and catching the back of your thighs as he picked you up. You kissed Johnny back and threaded your hands through his blonde hair and smiled as he groaned into your mouth.

Herbie practically malfunctioned from across the room as Johnny placed your back on the couch and hovered over you. Ben felt like this really wasn’t the time or place for you and Johnny to make mini superheroes, so bravely spoke up, “Guys!”

You and Johnny separated in rapid time, “Ben?!” The pair of you gasped and flung yourself to opposite sides of the couch.

Ben held back a smirk at your flustered expression and how pale the Human Torch had gone, making a mental note to mock him for it afterwards. “What were you two doing?” Ben knew exactly what they were doing, he just wanted to have a little fun with the situation.

Your mouth opened and closed, “Johnny was just…” You shook your head for an excuse, “He was just checking my temperature! I haven’t been feeling good the last few days.” You lied and widened your eyes at Johnny, urging him to follow along.

Johnny flicked his eyes between you and Ben, trying to understand what you were doing. ‘Oh!’ He mouthed, “Right, I was just checking in on my girl-- the girl!” He corrected himself and shuffled closer to awkwardly place the back of his hand against your forehead.

Ben nodded slowly, “Did you check her throat aswell?” Johnny looked at you and shook his head, “No, of course no. Why?”

“Well, you had your tongue stuck down it so I thought it would be a double feature.” You choked on nothing as Ben laughed. Johnny’s face grew bright red and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That’s… Yeah, I was…” Johnny stuttered out, realising there was no recovery in this situation.

You stood up from the couch and walked towards Ben, “Hey, do you mind not telling anyone about… this? Us?” 

“We already know.” Reed and Sue laughed as they walked into the room.

Johnny jumped from the couch and stumbled over to you, “I don’t think we were all that good at hiding it now that I’m thinking of it.” You rolled your eyes and elbowed him lightly, but him being dramatic, yelped.

Reed and Sue entered further into the room and went to sit on the couch, before the pair of them cringed at the reminder of what you and Johnny were about to do on the exact seat, and decided to sit on the chairs tucked into the dinner table.

“You guys are just the worst at keeping secrets.” Sue laughed as she bounced Franklin in her arms. Reed agreed and coddled his baby.

“I don’t know, they managed to keep it a secret for more than an hour, that’s impressive for them!” Ben shrugged and continued working on his sauce.

Johnny furrowed his brows, offended, “Come on! We weren’t that bad!”

Ben raised his eyebrows, “Flame Boy, you proposed that you and Y/N should get married when you’re older when we were fighting Galatus!” Johnny groaned and threw his head back, watching you laugh with them now, “Don’t encourage them, Y/N!” He whined.

“I can’t help it!” You chuckled and shuffled closer to him, settling your body into his. As everyone relayed their previous experiences about you two, you looked up at your boyfriend who you could proudly show off now, and vice versa. After everything, you were happy.

yipee hope u liked my first johnny fic! would u like more?

[defututus]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: two superheroes, johnny and y/n are sneaking around behind the teams back, assuming their relationship rendezvous are underwraps. little do they know, the entire team already knew!

aka, how the team found out johnny and y/n were dating!

(slight spoilers for fantastic four: first steps! nothing major, just plot points and relationship dynamic but please proceed with caution if you have not watched the film yet!)

johnny storm x fem!reader (wc: 4.0K)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐎𝐑 rather delusion, you and Johnny should have kept your relationship a secret. Sure, you had saved the world multiple times and fought so many interdimensional villains; but it seemed your limit, or weakness was keeping a very private and very real relationship a secret to your team.

At first, you hadn’t intended it to be a secret from the people you loved and trusted so much, it all just happened at the wrong time.

Johnny had planned on casually announcing it at the Sunday dinner, after you had talked him down from the long speech he had written in the palm of his hand. But it so happened to be the night that Ben figured out that Sue was pregnant. And being the unselfish people you are, opted to keep the spotlight on Sue and her pregnant glow and figure out another time to tell everyone.

That other time being when your earth was threatened and on the verge of being destroyed. It appears that the universe did not appreciate the love between the two superheroes.

And from that point onwards, you and Johnny decided that it was the universe telling you to keep your relationship a secret. And so you did.

For about a month. Maximum. 

Apparently being in a relationship with Johnny ‘loves women’ Storm meant you couldn’t keep your hands off each other for less than a minute; because according to him, if he didn’t have his hands on you, he’ll approach supernova and set fire to the earth’s atmosphere and kill all human life as you know it.

His words, not mine.

Which led to one of the worst kept secrets in Earth-828 and being in a house with literal geniuses and the world's smartest man, your private rendezvous with Johnny didn’t remain private for that long.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ④ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sue Storm was the first to find out, she knew her brother well and could tell something was off when he seemed to spend more time in his room than usual and held a shit-eating grin at 8:00 in the morning; his designated time to frown and tuck into his cereal.

She never verbalised it to him, knowing Johnny would throw accusations at her and somehow blame Reed for all of this. So she stayed quiet and in question, allowing her brother to keep his private life to himself.

But by chance, if she happened to walk into something she was never meant to see, then Sue couldn’t say she was actively invading his private life.

“Johnny!” Sue shouted as she stormed towards his room, his door closed and protecting whatever was inside. 

The Invisible Woman groaned as her brother didn’t respond, annoyed that he was clearly still asleep way into the afternoon and still in possession of what she was after.

Sue knocked on the door, “Johnny! You’ve got the baby monitor from last night, can I have it back?” She sighed as the room remained silent.

She knocked harder this time, “Seriously, Johnny! You said you’d give it back yesterday after you put Franklin down!”

The room was void of any response and Johnny, inside the room, made absolutely no effort to move. Sue couldn’t even hear the sounds of the bed cover rustling when she thought Johnny had finally woken up and got the memo, but there was no movement inside Johnny’s room.

Sue grew agitated, yet wanted to allow Johnny his privacy and didn’t barge in (yet). “It’s embarrassing that you’re still asleep at this hour, you know?” She teased from the other side of the door, expecting Johnny to groan and chirp out a witty comeback that would make Sue slap the back of his head; but again, nothing.

“I’m not joking around anymore! I’ll come in and get it myself!” Sue warned and put her hands on her hips, counting to 10 which would allow Johnny to get decent or respond.

“Whatever, I’m doing this myself.” Sue muttered to herself and barged through her brother’s door, eyes scanning the room for her baby monitor.

Sue’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes landed on Johnny’s bed and how he was curled in on his side with his mouth open and little snores escaping them. But it was the woman his arms were wrapped around who shocked her.

She was aware Johnny loved women and he definitely wouldn’t be opposed to inviting one into his bed. But inviting one into the Baxter Building with the entire team a few doors away, surprised her to no end.

Either the woman was the real deal for Johnny and he only brought her in here because he truly trusts and loves her; or that she was a massive fan and when she sits up, she’d be sporting an ‘I Love Reed Richards’ shirt.

“Uhh…” Sue looked anywhere but the bed, embarrassed to walk into the two sleeping figures but she was on a mission to find her baby monitor.

As she searched Johnny’s room, Sue couldn’t shake off the fact that she knew that head of hair on the woman, it felt familiar. There were definitely multiple women with the same hair colour but none identical to the one that laid out on her brother’s pillow, strands twisted in his hand.

Sue squinted her eyes as her footsteps took her closer to the pair on the bed, Johnny’s large bedtime shirt engulfing the mysterious woman while he laid shirtless with plaid pyjama bottoms on that were short at the shin on him.

She recognised the woman. Sure, she had saved the world a couple times and recognised a few faces along the way. But she was different, this woman wasn’t just some person, she felt familiar…

Hell, she even looked like--

“Y/N?” Johnny groaned as he nestled his head into your shoulder.

Sue gasped and quickly turned herself invisible, holding her breath as she watched you turn around and lie face to face with Johnny. 

“Yeah?” You mumbled in response and thread your hands through Johnny's blonde hair, feeling his body grow warmer against you, a habit he had when he felt satisfied.

Sue slowly backed towards the door, baby monitor clutched in her hand. She thanked everything that Johnny was so enchanted by you that he didn’t look over your shoulder to see a floating baby monitor backtracking to his door.

Johnny sighed in content and pressed soft kisses to your neck, “Stay here for a little bit longer.” He mumbled into your skin.

You breathed out a laugh and let Johnny do how he pleased, while your words contradicted his, “No, Johnny. You know I’ve got to meet Reed in the lab soon--” “So? Who cares about Reed?” Johnny shrugged.

Sue’s mouth dropped open slightly, mouthing a silent ‘Me!’. 

“Johnny!” You scolded him and playfully pushed his shoulder, but he didn’t budge and instead propped an arm up to hover above you slightly.

“I need you more than Reed. He’ll make you go over some dumb equation. Stay with your hot boyfriend who needs another hour with you, minimum.” Johnny grinned and brushed stray hairs from your face.

You quirked a brow, “Was that a play on words? ‘Hot boyfriend’?” Johnny smirked, “Maybe. Did you notice?”

“Yes, I did.” You laughed and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and letting his body heat convince you to stay a little while longer. No! No, you had work to do with Reed.

Johnny leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, feeling him smile into the kiss and his other hand cupped your cheek. “Johnny! I have to meet Reed!” You giggled into the kiss, but made no effort to shove him away.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t say my brother-in-law's name while I’m kissing you.” He pulled away with his nose scrunched up, but a quick shake of his head and eyes widening made him lean down to try and kiss you again.

Sue grimaces from across the room. Of course Johnny would say something like that, he might be the Human Torch but he’ll always be Sue’s strange little brother to her.

“We’ll get caught if I stay any longer.” You protested and raised your brows. “You make a good point, beautiful.” Johnny smiled, “But I don’t care.” 

As he shuffled to hover over you completely, Sue cringed and took this as her cue to leave, coming back with a lot more than she had intended.

As she ventured out the room, she walked into Johnny’s record player which screeched uncomfortably against the flooring, causing Sue to freeze her movements as she remained invisible.

Both yours and Johnny’s head snapped towards the sound, lips swollen from the kisses and bed hair evident. Your brows furrowed for a moment but Johnny didn’t seem all that concerned.

He turned back to you and shrugged, “Probably Ben moving around upstairs or something.” He mumbled and went in to kiss you which you intercepted with your hand.

“Now you’re the one bringing up other team members while trying to kiss me!” You laughed and teased his earlier comment, causing him to groan and bow his head into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” Johnny chuckled and moved off of you, letting you begin with your day.

However, neither of you noticed the Invisible Woman quickly dart out the room and didn’t question why the door was open when you swore you shut it before you fell asleep.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ④ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

The way Reed Richards found out was completely out of your control. Partially.

“That’s strange…” Reed muttered as he looked through his data beside him, your arm grasped in his hand as he did his usual checkup, being superheroes and all.

Your head turned to face him, pulling you out of your conversation with Johnny who was sitting on the table behind you, arms crossed against his chest. “What’s wrong?” You tilted your head.

“It’s just… I’ve never seen something like this before.” Reed stood and walked over to his chalkboard, hands moving frantically to try and figure out the cause of this.

“Something wrong with her, Reed?” Johnny stood, concerned and stepped towards you, fingers brushing your shoulder as you stayed sitting in your chair. Reed didn’t answer and repeatedly mumbled to himself, eyes closing for a moment to go over equations and solutions in his head.

Reed shook his head, turning back to face the pair of you, “Not particularly, no.” You and Johnny looked at each other with furrowed brows. “Out of the ordinary, yes. But nothing’s wrong with you.” Reed concluded and sat back down in his seat, shuffling the chair closer to yours so he could give you the debrief.

“So, what is it?” You questioned and crossed your legs over in the chair. 

“Your body temperature is a lot higher than usual.” Reed nodded. You shook your head, “I don’t get it. Is that a bad thing?”

“No! It would be if it was any other person but the slight concern is that your body temperature is far beyond the average. It’s like for a moment your vitals proved you could have reached full body on fire if you were a normal person.” Reed relayed and defended your spot in the team. 

You squint your eyes and felt Johnny tense up slightly behind you, “Huh…” You said quietly. Feeling like you already knew the cause to your body practically turning into the sun’s heat, you stood up to leave, “That’ll be all--”

“I think I’ve determined the cause of your issue, Y/N.” Reed stood just as quick as you, rounding you to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, sheets gripped in his hand and he pointed across the data.

“If you see here,” He pointed at your vitals, “It’s like your body has been exposed to too much heat consistently.” Your eyes widened and you subtly turned your head to see Johnny’s face paling.

“You sure it’s not just a coincidence?” Johnny stepped closer and read your data, laughing nervously and taking a sip of water.

Reed tutted, “Absolutely not, Johnny.” He handed you the data and pointed at your temperature in a bold font, “You’ve experienced this temperature so much that it’s practically becoming part of your DNA.”

Johnny choked on his water and coughed loud enough for Reed’s attention to be turned onto him, “You alright?” He moved closer to him and rubbed his back, glad Reed had missed your bright red face and wide eyes.

The blonde wiped his face and looked at you, “So what? You’re saying if she keeps… being exposed to this heat, we’ll have a female human torch walking down the street?” His voice raised and he flailed his arms between himself and you.

Your mouth opened at Johnny’s not-so-subtle question, “Johnny!--”

“No, you’re the only human torch we’ll have, don’t worry about that.” Reed reassured him, “What on earth could be causing this heat, what have you been exposed to…” He trailed off and turned his back to the couple.

You snapped your head to Johnny and whisper-shouted at him, “Are you kidding me?”

Johnny’s cheeks were flushed and he set his drink back down on the table, “What?” He said exasperated. “Way to make it obvious!” You said to him.

“Not my fault that Reed’s basically said that when we have kids--” “Sorry, did you just say ‘when’?” You cut him off and your mouth fell open.

Johnny chose to ignore you, “That our children will basically be mini superhero versions of us because apparently my super hot DNA - pun intended by the way! - will be a part of our kids!” He breathed out, making wild gestures with his hands.

“That is so not what Reed said!” You laughed and Johnny spiralling. “That’s so what he said!” Johnny’s voice raised slightly but you could see a grin fighting to appear on his face.

Across the room, Reed laughed to himself, “Hey, Y/N.” He called out but you failed to hear him, “It’s almost as if you’re around Johnny too much--”

Reed trailed off as his mind worked faster than his words. Temperature. DNA. Exposure. Johnny is the Human Torch. Johnny exudes heat. 

Johnny was the heat you were exposed to consistently. You were dating--

“Johnny Storm!” Reed said out loud which made you and Johnny snap your heads to him, breaking you out of your mini / private conversation.

“Yeah?” Johnny shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as if his little breakdown didn’t happen and casually pretended that he hadn’t told you he wanted a future with you via Reed’s overanalysed data.

For the first time, the smartest man in the world was lost for words. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised it sooner. He probably should’ve raised questions when Johnny practically sold himself out and brought up his Human Torch persona after a lengthy discussion on your DNA; but Reed was good at science, not relationship! (Sue could prove this point).

“Nothing!” Reed quickly scooped up his work and darted for the lab door, “Need to find Sue for something, got the Storm siblings mixed up!” Johnny furrowed his brows, not believing his brother-in-law. 

“Alright… So, Y/N’s fine?” Johnny asked, standing too close to you and asking about your wellbeing too much for you to be ‘just friends’, it was all coming together in Reed’s head now.

“She’s fine,” Reed nodded and turned to the door, "Especially now she’s with you.” He laughed to himself but Johnny didn’t catch the last part.

“What did you say?” You and Johnny questioned, confused by Reed’s sudden departure, the lab was basically his second home. More like his first home, actually.

“I didn’t say anything!” Reed quickly left the room and made a beeline for his and Sue’s room, finding her curled up on the bed with Franklin on her lap and a book between her hands.

Reed dropped his data and stood in the doorway, “Did you know that Johnny and Y/N are dating--”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ④ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

To some extent, Ben Grimm always knew that Johnny was dating you, being the closest to him and able to see through his poorly attempted lies.

Over the last few weeks, Ben was more observant of you and Johnny, especially on the battlefield.

Being rational in interdimensional fights, Johnny’s actions drove Ben insane sometimes; specifically the times when Johnny would find any excuse to flirt with you while you fought to save their earth.

“Y/N!” Johnny flew down and landed next to you, panting with a smug smile on his face. You turned around and saw your boyfriend approaching in his light blue suit that he wore so well.

“Oh, God.” You groaned playfully as you knew Johnny was up to no good. Ben, a couple feet away from you, watched the Human Torch gravitate towards you as if it was normal.

“Let’s play truth or dare?” Johnny smiled and his height towered over you. You looked up at him as if he’d grown two heads, “Seriously, Johnny! We’re in the middle of a fight!”

The blonde shrugged as if it was nothing, “So? Hasn’t stopped us before.” You rolled your eyes and started walking to Ben who was helping your earth while also eavesdropping on your conversation with Johnny. “You’re impossible.” You laughed as Johnny jogged to keep up with you before standing in your way.

“Just ask me.” He winked. You looked up at him and tutted, “Fine. Truth or--”

“Dare. I’ll do dare.” Johnny interrupted you which made you scrunch up your face and your mind couldn’t come up with one to satisfy Johnny’s risk-taking approach to life. “I don’t know!” You gestured, “I can’t come up with one right now, ask me later.” You tried to walk past him and continue protecting your earth.

“I’ve got one!” Johnny exclaimed. You wondered if Johnny had known this whole time what he wanted to do, maybe even while he was fighting, bored out of his mind that it spiralled into this. “You should dare me to take down this guy in under three minutes.”

You tilted your head, “Why would I do that?” 

You watched Johnny scan the area, obviously not thoroughly because he failed to see the bright orange Thing in the corner of his eye, before he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “If I do it then I believe I deserve a reward tonight.”

You raised your brows, “And what would that reward be, Johnny?” A smile crept up onto your face as Johnny looked at you as if the answer was obvious.

“I think you know, Y/N.” Johnny winked and you nodded at him, agreeing to his dare. He chuckled and looked back at you one more time before flying off to complete his mission; only suggesting it in the first place because Johnny knew he could do it in under three minutes.

If he was being honest, he could do it in under one minute. But he had to stay humble, for once.

Ben shook his head at Johnny who chose the wrong time to flirt, but confused by his proposal. Would your reward to him be those personal cookies you made so well that had everyone in Baxter Building asking for more. They had the recipe, it just didn’t taste as good as yours.

Ben’s train of thought was cut short as more threats came his way, deciding to prioritise the earth’s safety over Johnny and his painfully obvious flirting with you, but of course, you would never date him!

Sure, the reward was personal as Ben had suspected. Just not the… type of personal he had initially thought.

And Ben would find that out later that night as he sat with Herbie and tasted the sauce the pair had made. “Is that too strong?” Ben turned to Herbie, his chirps and beeps a valid enough answer for him.

He lifted his head as he saw you and Johnny burst into the building, not seeing The Thing in the kitchen part of the room. 

Johnny’s arm was slung over your shoulder and you were lent into his side, clearly just coming back from the debrief after the mission. “So, I did it in under three minutes.” Johnny’s hand twisted into your hair and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“That’s right…” You hummed. “Can I cash my reward now?” Johnny licked his lips and watched as you pretended to deliberate on the question. “You know you can.” You whispered.

Across the room, Ben heard your answer and shuffled stuff on the kitchen countertop to make room for you and your ingredients, still thinking you were about to offer Johnny your famous cookies.

Ben turned around and his smile was wiped off his face as he saw Johnny lean down to connect your lips, ducking down and catching the back of your thighs as he picked you up. You kissed Johnny back and threaded your hands through his blonde hair and smiled as he groaned into your mouth.

Herbie practically malfunctioned from across the room as Johnny placed your back on the couch and hovered over you. Ben felt like this really wasn’t the time or place for you and Johnny to make mini superheroes, so bravely spoke up, “Guys!”

You and Johnny separated in rapid time, “Ben?!” The pair of you gasped and flung yourself to opposite sides of the couch.

Ben held back a smirk at your flustered expression and how pale the Human Torch had gone, making a mental note to mock him for it afterwards. “What were you two doing?” Ben knew exactly what they were doing, he just wanted to have a little fun with the situation.

Your mouth opened and closed, “Johnny was just…” You shook your head for an excuse, “He was just checking my temperature! I haven’t been feeling good the last few days.” You lied and widened your eyes at Johnny, urging him to follow along.

Johnny flicked his eyes between you and Ben, trying to understand what you were doing. ‘Oh!’ He mouthed, “Right, I was just checking in on my girl-- the girl!” He corrected himself and shuffled closer to awkwardly place the back of his hand against your forehead.

Ben nodded slowly, “Did you check her throat aswell?” Johnny looked at you and shook his head, “No, of course no. Why?”

“Well, you had your tongue stuck down it so I thought it would be a double feature.” You choked on nothing as Ben laughed. Johnny’s face grew bright red and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That’s… Yeah, I was…” Johnny stuttered out, realising there was no recovery in this situation.

You stood up from the couch and walked towards Ben, “Hey, do you mind not telling anyone about… this? Us?” 

“We already know.” Reed and Sue laughed as they walked into the room.

Johnny jumped from the couch and stumbled over to you, “I don’t think we were all that good at hiding it now that I’m thinking of it.” You rolled your eyes and elbowed him lightly, but him being dramatic, yelped.

Reed and Sue entered further into the room and went to sit on the couch, before the pair of them cringed at the reminder of what you and Johnny were about to do on the exact seat, and decided to sit on the chairs tucked into the dinner table.

“You guys are just the worst at keeping secrets.” Sue laughed as she bounced Franklin in her arms. Reed agreed and coddled his baby.

“I don’t know, they managed to keep it a secret for more than an hour, that’s impressive for them!” Ben shrugged and continued working on his sauce.

Johnny furrowed his brows, offended, “Come on! We weren’t that bad!”

Ben raised his eyebrows, “Flame Boy, you proposed that you and Y/N should get married when you’re older when we were fighting Galatus!” Johnny groaned and threw his head back, watching you laugh with them now, “Don’t encourage them, Y/N!” He whined.

“I can’t help it!” You chuckled and shuffled closer to him, settling your body into his. As everyone relayed their previous experiences about you two, you looked up at your boyfriend who you could proudly show off now, and vice versa. After everything, you were happy.

yipee hope u liked my first johnny fic! would u like more?

[defututus]

⋆˙⟡ 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄, whose brand of loving you can be surmised in one, simple word: sloppy. sure, he's capable of sweet, short kisses, of placing a hand in your back pocket without squeezing your ass, exchanging affectionate words when your only company is the rising sun. but, where's the fun in all of that?

eddie likes kissing you lazily, languidly, like you have nothing else to do in the world than exist in the here and now, with his lips against yours and his tongue in your mouth. his hands roam, of course, squeezing and grabbing at any part of flesh he can, delighting in the squeaks and giggles he can elicit from you. makeouts with eddie always result in drool-slick chins and hot cheeks, of hazy eyes and laboured breathing.

and the best of those makeout sessions end with eddie's cock buried deep inside of you, hitting that spongy spot that makes you see stars time and time again. his thrusts are relentless, hair growing damp with sweat, and he ensures to mark every patch of skin he can get his lips on. half of the time, he's not even kissing your neck and chest, settling for mouthing lazily at your warm skin, licking and suckling at the flesh, covering you in spit, and budding bruises.

eddie's love is sloppy, because being able to let his guard down around you, to go with his basic desires and instincts, shows that he's in deep.

[defututus]

TEAS'N PLEAS'N — E.M.

summary… eddie is a man who possesses a lot of musical talent. lucky you, his fingers’ capabilities extend far beyond plucking the strings of his prized guitar [1.6k]

becca’s notes… a rewrite of a super old fic posted onto my other blog !!!

warnings… fingering, dirty talk

𝐆𝐎𝐃, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 a terrible person. 

eddie had been wanting to show this to you all day. he’d practically dragged you back to his trailer the second he’d picked you up, all so he could lead you into his bedroom and grab his precious guitar from her place on the wall. 

despite his excitement, he’d still taken the time to place a pillow against his headboard to ensure that you would be comfortable as you watched him. sure, it was flat, not too cushioned at all, but the sheer thought was more than enough to make your stomach flip over.

the caring nature of his affections toward you made your heart swell, and the broad grin he’d shot your way as you sprawled out across his mattress, ankles crossed over each other, only intensified that feeling.

now, as he stood a few feet away from you, mastering a particularly tricky riff with little difficulty but a lot of vigour, you couldn’t even focus on appreciating the sheer talent that it took.

it’d probably taken him days, weeks, possibly even months of endlessly listening to his ‘dangerous toys’ cassette and following along, aiming to nail every last tab. it wasn’t only a means to impress the other members of corroded coffin, no; eddie’s main objective of learning the song was to impress you. and yet, you weren’t even fully paying attention to him. 

no, your eyes were locked on to the way eddie had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, an expression you’d bore witness to many times before, but under a very different circumstance. 

instead of gripping the neck of his guitar, his hand would typically be around your throat as he fucked into you fast and deep, filth and praise falling from his bitten lips like liquid gold as he approached his high and spilled into you. 

it definitely didn’t help that his head was thrown back, exposing the column of his throat, and in turn, the faint smattering of purple and blue that you had left a few days ago. 

his ring-adorned fingers travelled up and down the guitar’s neck with such speed and dexterity, pads of his fingers dancing over the fretboard so quick that it should be considered criminal. the action caused the deep blue veins of his arms and hands to stand out beneath his skin, begging you to follow their path with your eyes, or better yet, your tongue. 

there was one factor that absolved you of some guilt. eddie’s eyes were closed, the deep, coffee brown irises obscured from your vision thanks to his lids. it allowed you to continue your lustful admirations without the looming fear of being caught.

now, your imagination could run wild, and eddie had always praised you for your active mind. 

whilst eddie was no doubt running through the tabs in his mind, letting his fingers follow muscle memory and learned rhythm, you were picturing something far less pure. that guitar was the least of your concerns, and you squeezed your thighs together in an effort to generate some form of friction, rocked against the heel of your foot. 

with such a mesmerising sight in front of you, it was only natural for your mind to go somewhere else. 

countless times before you’d watched eddie’s large hands repeat similar movements between your legs, calloused fingertips brushing over your sensitive clit, dipping into your dripping cunt and curling at just the right angle, enough to make you see stars.

he was gifted with his hands, and the smug little shit knew it, and god, you had to end this train of thought before it got too dangerous for you.

for once, it seemed fate was on your side. 

with a lot of willpower, you managed to pull yourself back to your senses just as eddie played the final few notes. his eyelids fluttered open to reveal the doe eyes that you had come to adore, and the smile on his face was impossibly infectious, causing a cocktail of love and guilt to build in your stomach, thick and curdled. 

“well?” he asked, grinning toothily. “what’d you think, sweetheart? am i on my way to becoming the next van halen or what?”

you grasped for something to say, begging that your mouth would form some appropriate response to his question, spit out a compliment that proved you were definitely paying attention to the music, and not daydreaming about his fingers being knuckle deep inside of you. 

“hellooo?” eddie waved a hand in front of your face, soft chuckles escaping his lips as he raised a curious brow. “earth to y/n? did you like it?”

you blinked slowly, clearing the fog from your mind as you finally caught up to what eddie was asking you. before you could formulate a proper, composed sentence, your mouth produced the first think your lust-addled brain could think of.

“that was hot as fuck.”

shit.

that was not at all like what you wanted to say. was so, wildly, insanely far from it, actually. how hard was it to simply tell him that it was impressive? coo and ‘aw’ over how talented he was, butter him up and fuel his ego with sweet words? curse you and your stupid brain for being so impossibly horny right now. or, really, curse your brain for letting you think with your pulsing core, instead. 

eddie’s playful grin was quickly replaced by a smirk, the corner up his lip ticking upwards as he moved towards you. the flip of a coin, eddie had switched from playful to predatory, and with a surprising amount of grace, he slotted himself in between your legs, lips ghosting your own as his knee bullied its way between your thighs. 

just as you moved to connect your lips, to convey everything you had wanted to say before your lack of filter had betrayed you, eddie pulled back with a tsk.

“ah, ah, not so fast, princess.” the words dripped with condescension, teasing yet incredulous. “you weren’t even paying attention to me, were you?”

your mouth opened, but no words came out. pathetically, you closed it once more, floundering as you attempted to remain calm, to keep up your rapidly crumbling composure. 

the lack of response told eddie everything he needed to know. silence buzzed around you both, alight with tension that lingered with the intensity of a budding thunderstorm. 

“huh,” he grinned, cat-like and smug. “so, how about you tell me exactly what you were thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?”

as he spoke, his fingers danced up the length of your thighs, tiptoe-ing impossibly closer to your wanting heat. you shook your head in an act of defiance, trying to buy more time, but it was no use.

rough fingertips made contact with your chin, and one firm tug forced your wide eyes to meet his deep brown ones. 

“don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart. not after you’vepractically eye-fucked me for the past five minutes.”

teasing you was fun, yes, but eddie was also only human. holding off on pleasing you also meant holding off on pleasing himself, and where was the fun in neither of you getting off?

finally, his bitten lips pressed against your own, rough and wanting, locking into place like magnets held apart for too long.

one hand cupped your jaw, cradling your face with a hold that was surprisingly tender considering the levels of adrenaline shooting through his veins. the metal of his rings was cold against your hot cheeks, the contrast delicious, and his other hand dropped down to your chest, eagerly rucking the fabric of your shirt up to expose the band of your bra.

granted a new expanse of skin to play with, his fingers moved tantalisingly slow, trailing from your sternum to your navel, fingertips teasing the waistband of your skirt.

“let’s see how y’really felt about the show, hm?”

not allowing you to speak, eddie’s fingers slipped underneath the hem of your skirt, nudging the fabric of your panties to the side. in one, smooth motion, he slipped a finger into your wet heat, finding no resistance as your hole practically sucked in the digit. 

"so fucking wet f'me, shit. been wanting this the whole time, huh? wanted my fingers on you instead of that guitar?”

all you could do was whine, bucking your hips up in an attempt to meet his hand, seek your own gratification. eddie merely tutted as he removed his finger and swatted at the flesh of your thigh, shaking his head as he looked up to meet your eye. foolish idea, really. eddie hardly ever let you take the reins, especially when you were as wound up as this.

"ah, ah, babe. you gotta ask for what you want." his hands trailed up and down your skin with a featherlight touch, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his warm palms. "want to hear you say all of the dirty little things you want me to do to you.”

never breaking eye contact, he sucked the finger that was once inside of you into his mouth, tongue collecting up every last drop of your slick with an obscene groan, playing it up with the intention of riling you up further. 

“want you,” you whimpered, unsure of whether to part your thighs further in invitation or clamp them together in an effort to grant yourself some friction. 

later, when your brain wasn’t leaking out of your ears, you’d make eddie pay for turning you into an absolute puddle. 

“oh you’re gonna get me, baby,” eddie purred, spreading your legs as wide at they would go. “gonna get everything you want and then some, i promise. i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

promises were sacred to eddie, sacred especially when made to you. and god, did he fulfil his promise.

[defututus]

cw. porn with no plot.

yes, the idea of reader getting used as a fleshlight is fantastic, but what about reader using him as a dildo? not worried about his pleasure. you're only fucking him because he's a loser with a huge cock.

you're stuffing your panties (lacy, soaked through, reeking of your perfect pussy) into his face in a failed attempt to stifle his loud, unabashed moans. he definitely hasn't been fucked before, if so, not like this. due to his inexperience, he's probably came way too many times already inside you, and so you're bouncing on his fat, slimy cock with cum sloshing inside you and leaking with every bounce onto his pelvis.

"oh fuck- shut up, will you? i'm t-trying... mmnh... to focus," you manage out. trying to sound stern is basically an impossibility when you've got his cock smushed inside you to the hilt.

his hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling beneath you as you sink down on him and then rock your hips back and forth while completely stuffed. this method doesn't give him as much pleasure as it does for you, but you don't care. this isn't for his pleasure, or your connection. all you care about is how deep he hits when you sink all the way, how your cunt's clenching so tight he can't stop shaking.

"f-fuck-!" he whines again pathetically through the lace in his mouth, drool soaking the crotch of your panties where they're pressed over his mouth and nose. his eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on the place where you meet him. it's humiliating how desperate he looks.

"you like getting used, huh?" you pant, beginning to bounce again so the overstimulation hits once more. you let his big, drooling cock drag and catch with each rough bounce. it makes that slick, wet sound every time you move.

"ah- ye-yeah, like it soooo much," he moans so loud it vibrates through your soaked panties, tries to say something, but you shove your panties harder into his face so you don't hear what shit he has to say. his cock pulses again and you can feel more warmth spill out of you, overflowing from the tip, dripping down to his balls in glooping heaps. "such a -shit- big fucking cock wasted on a nobody like ngh! you. y-you don't deserve it."

your voice cracks halfway through but you don't stop or pretend this is anything but using him like he's just a toy that happens to twitch and moan and cum without your permission. your hands are braced on his chest for balance, his skin hot and slick under your palms from how hard he's sweating, poor thing.

you push the underwear just enough to see his eyes, which are teary and rolled back. his eyes clamp shut when you drop down especially hard, and his whole body jerks like he's seizing. his stomach tightens under your hands but the second you grind down again deep, slow and mean, he lets out a strangled sob into your panties, soaked through with spit and the sharp scent of your cunt.

"mmnh, fuck, look at you," you breathe out, "you're crying, sweetheart. is it too much?" you coo mockingly, dragging your hips up until just his swollen tip is nestled at the edge of your cunt, nearly pulling out. the area where his cockhead enters you is smeared in cum and slick. he scrabbles at your arms, needing to be back inside you. then, without warning, you slam back down, clamping hard on him.

he screams behind the fabric. legs kicking. you begin grinding down hard as punishment until you feel another twitch inside you, his cock thickening, spurting another weak, creamy load. his fifth? sixth? doesn't matter.

[defututus]

The Fluffy Thief

David Corenswet! Superman x Female Reader

Warning ⚠️: brief smut, mostly fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Word Count:~650

A/N: This was so random, I don’t remember how the idea came to me 🤭, Happy Reading ❤️

-//-

Dinner is long forgotten — the only thing that matters now is the way Clark’s mouth trails fire down your throat, how his hands roam your bare skin as he lowers you onto the couch. He hovers over you, warm and solid, kissing you so deeply you forget how to breathe. His hands cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until you’re gasping, your hips rolling up to meet him. He presses kisses lower — wet, open-mouthed, down your neck, over your chest — pausing only to suck a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling until your soft moans echo off the walls.

Your fingers fumble at his pants, desperate to feel him. He laughs breathlessly against your skin, then helps you tug them down and toss them aside. When he slides your panties off, he kisses his way down with them — leaving a trail of warmth that makes your whole body shiver.

He settles between your thighs, spreading you open so easily it makes your cheeks burn. His mouth lowers, tongue tasting you in slow, deep licks that have your back arching off the couch. You whimper his name, one hand buried in his hair as he groans low in his throat, savoring every sound you make.

When your thighs tremble and you fall apart for him, gasping his name in a soft cry, he doesn’t give you a chance to come down. He kisses his way back up your body — soft, hungry pecks along your stomach, between your breasts, up your throat, his lips finding yours again just as he slides inside you in one smooth, deep thrust.

You moan into his mouth, your nails dragging down his back as he starts to move — slow, steady strokes that get faster, deeper, until the slap of skin on skin fills the room. He whispers your name between kisses, his breath ragged when you clench around him.

Your soft cries build again until you’re trembling under him, walls fluttering around him as you come a second time, a choked moan on your lips. That’s all it takes — he pushes in deep, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, his mouth buried against your neck as he pants your name.

After, he slips away just long enough to grab a warm cloth and clean you up gently, pressing kisses to your cheeks every time you flinch from how sensitive you are. Then he pulls you under the blanket, both of you curled together on the couch, your leg thrown over his hip, your cheek resting on his chest.

The living room is a mess — clothes scattered everywhere, soft TV glow flickering across the walls. You’re half-asleep, drifting in the warmth of him, when you feel him shift under you.

He squints over your shoulder, brow furrowing, “What you got there, buddy?” he mutters, suspicion creeping into his voice.

You peek over, stifling a giggle when you see the dog standing proudly with your bra clenched between his teeth. He wags his tail, gives it a tiny shake like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand over his face. He shifts out from under you, the blanket slipping off his hips as he stands.

You giggle, tugging the blanket tighter around you as Clark steps off the couch, half-naked and still flushed.

He tries, “Hey, Krypto, buddy…” but Krypto just takes off behind the coffee table, your bra flapping like a victory flag in his mouth, “Kyrpto, No! Drop it.”

You bury your face in the blanket, shoulders shaking as you watch your gorgeous, half-naked boyfriend running circles around the living room, muttering more empty threats while the dog wags his tail like it’s the best game in the world.

“Give it back, Krypto!”

You wouldn’t trade this ridiculous moment for anything.

—————————————————————————-

Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️

[defututus]

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭

You like to rush things. Clark takes things slow until he can’t anymore. (Or, you attempt to seduce your coworker in a series of little skirts, and while Clark falls in love with all of you, the skirts don’t hurt.) 4k words, fem.

˚‧꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s mildly manipulative, what you’re doing to him. Subtle seductions stretched far and wide between weeks of work, your eyes alighting a moment too long on his lips and his neck and his arms. 

You don’t flirt. That’s important. You don’t tell him how handsome he looks when the cold has rosed his cheeks. Won’t mention the poor fit of his gray suit, how it’d look far better on a bedroom floor, or draped across a bathroom stall. Nothing severe. You’re… teasing him. 

For no reason, really. It might be frustration, but wow, wouldn’t that be introspective? You know you could never land a guy like Clark, so you pretend. Blah blah blah, it’s all very boring and your skirt is very short. 

Alright, it’s not that short. It’s the illusion of the thing. The idea that he could get a glance at something, even though the skirt has an inner lining. 

You’re not, you know, obvious about it. Clark might not be looking. But you place your hand on the counter as you reach up with the other for a mug, and you know there’s a stretch of thigh on show if nothing else, heat of a real or imaginary eye on the backs of them as you sigh softly. You genuinely can’t reach. 

You settle back on your heels and turn to find Clark not too far away. “Hey, would you help, please? If you can reach it.” 

You can’t glean any overt interest from his expression, but he says, “Sure,” with warmth on his lips, like he’d gone to say something else and let it fizzle out. 

Clark opens the cabinet door wider and reaches in for a pink mug. It has ‘sweetheart’ written on the side in white, textured font, though the script is elegant. 

“Here, sweetheart,” he says. 

You laugh, mostly to see his satisfied smile. “Thank you.” 

“Can I make it for you?” he asks. 

Clark could hang you upside down and shake you for spare change if he wanted. “You know how I like it.” 

Teasing aside, you spend the afternoon sipping at your coffee with Clark a desk away, Lois adjacent, listening to the click of tens of keyboards and the scritch of shuffled paper on the edges of desks. You work on your small cooking column in relative silence. Three recipes a week, minimum. If you do especially well, Perry lets you slide a conversational piece across his desk for reviewing. You’ve had a couple on the third page. Clark has taken the front page again this week —an exclusive interview with Superman about the Jelly-Mecha that attempted to swallow the WGBS building. 

You’re leaning back with a leg over your knee, your eyes dedicated to the little clock in the corner of your monitor, when somebody hooks the empty chair in the desk beside yours and wheels it over. Clark is sitting next to you before you can protest, a dark-sugared donut in his hands. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Are you sharing?”  

“Obviously.” He grins, pulling the donut in his hands apart. Sugar crumbles down into his lap, and the smell of it erupts between you. Apple-cinnamon, miraculously warm when he presses it to your fingers. 

“Thank you.”

Your quiet doesn’t perturb him. He matches your tone, “Yeah, don’t mention it.” 

“Where’s this from?” you ask, taking your first bite.

He takes his own, covering his mouth with his hand as he answers. “Beanies.” 

“That explains why it’s still warm.” 

He shrugs. You don’t get what it means but you don’t care to argue, savouring each mouthful of dough and sugar. You lick the crumbs from your fingers and the corners of your mouth. Clark ate his own half fast, ‘cos he’s a giant with an appetite you envy and revile; in your most humble opinion, it is both impressive and audacious to watch Clark house a BLT in half a minute. 

“Was that good?” he asks quietly, his eyes on your shining fingertips. 

You wipe them on the edge of his napkin. An achy heat eats at your stomach. “You’re spoiling my appetite.”

“Do you have big dinner plans?” 

“Huge! I’m testing something new tonight. Snow mountain garlic and pea risotto, for health week. It’s not particularly healthy,” you confess. “But snow mountain garlic has all these supposed special properties. Doesn’t matter if it’s true, though.” 

“Why not?” 

You like his tone. “It has more allicin. That’s what makes it taste good.” 

“Allicin is antibacterial,” he says. 

“Brilliant. Antibacterial risotto.” 

He holds your eyes for a moment, his own big and especially blue behind his straight frames. “I hope it goes well,” he says. 

It’s a measured sentence, like he’s crafted each word carefully as he said it. 

“I’ll bring you some if it does.” 

“I’d like that.” 

You hide how warming it is to be spoken to like that, carrying the feeling home with you to unravel against the stovetop. If you try harder than usual to make a good meal, it is nobody’s business but your own, and Clark’s, who sits waiting and ready at his desk the following morning. 

“Clark Kent on time?” you tease, letting the handles of your handbag fall into your elbow. “Who would’a thought we’d ever see the day?” 

“I can be punctual,” he promises. 

“Can you? Aren’t you on probation?”

“That wasn’t for tardiness, it was for sick days, and no. I’m no longer on probation.” He smiles with white, shy teeth, a peek of them from between his lips. “I’m on the straight and narrow.”

You imagine the hardness of them against your own lips as you lean in for a kiss, for a split second. The clack you’d inevitably make as your teeth knocked into his, as you hooked your arm behind his neck and dragged him down to you for some light force. 

“‘Cos you’re a good boy,” you murmur, mumble, more to yourself than him (though he is definitely meant to hear you). 

Clark’s face is still. His hands less so, a fist curling against his thigh. His smile is remarkably genuine. “Coffee?” 

Calling Clark a good boy might be flirting. Or not! What’s important is the way it softens him for the working day. How quietly awed he sounds as you unveil a Tupperware container full of risotto for him. He tells you it’s good between big bites. You want to nibble on him, taken by the curve of his bicep each time he brings up his fork, and the tip of his tongue darting out to catch a grain of rice. He’s killing you. You’re dying at the Daily Planet. 

Dramatics aside, he compliments your risotto egregiously, returning the Tupperware with a pristine shine. You don’t play short-skirt with him for days. 

When you do, the skirt is a delicate thing that isn’t as short as you’d expect considering the name of the game, but it’s nearly sheer. Standing in the right light, your hip smushed to the pillarway near his desk while Jimmy tells you about a new kind of giant slug they found living in West Africa, you assume you’re displaying what you’d seen in the mirror that morning. Given enough sunlight, the lavender fabric of your skirt goes translucent. Anyone in looking distance can make out the barest hint of your legs, their shape, a shadow of your thighs and the neat little underwear you have on beneath. You aren’t trying to harass him, but, this is Metropolis. It’s not the most conservative place when it comes to fashion. It isn’t much different to wearing a pair of daisy dukes. 

They’re cuter than denim shorts, though. Velveteen paisley overlaying plain panties. 

It’s not entirely a sex thing. It’s to feel sexy, sure, as an arm to feeling beautiful, desired. You want to know that Clark (handsome, kind, beautiful Clark) sees it, that he wants it, even if it’s a fleeting flash of lust and nothing else. 

And Clark —he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t say a word about it, doesn’t clench his fist or take in a sharp breath. 

You decide you like that just as much and return to your desk, happily ashamed. 

—

The pasta you made yesterday is far better today. The mushroom sauce has soaked into the fusilli. With a scratching of fresh cheese, you lay it over a fresh bowl of rocket and watercress, coat the entire thing in lemon juice, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and flaky salt, and eat it enthusiastically behind your computer. 

“That smells amazing.” 

You lighten at his dulcet tone. “It’s pretty good. D’you want some?” 

“I’m trying to keep you fed, sweetheart,” Clark says, placing down your ‘sweetheart’ mug and a small plate, “not the other way around. Thank you.” 

His thank you is diligently gentle. He must work at it, to sound so docile. It has to be practised. 

The small plate homes two cupcakes. One has golden cake with a great dollop of fresh cream and cut raspberries atop it, and the other looks like a darker flavour. Ginger? The buttercream is thick and caramelised, with cookie crumbs between its peaks. 

“What have I done to deserve all this?” you ask. 

“You don’t have to do anything at all. It’s your afters. Your dessert.” 

“I haven’t done anything?” you ask. 

He shakes his head kindly. “It’s inherently deserved.” 

If he’s charming or teasing, you can’t tell. 

His eyes fall from your face. You get distracted by his details, the clean hills of his cheeks, his dark brows, sweet mouth and a sweeter nose broad enough to take a kiss or two, and you almost miss the stroke of his gaze lingering on your collar. His fingers twitch. “Can I?” he asks. 

You follow his finger. One of your straps has fallen down, leaving the simple pale elastic of your bra alone. You couldn’t have faked it better. “Sure,” you say under your breath. 

Clark hears it regardless, slipping a fingertip up your arm, a backwards tumble that threatens to send tattle-tale goosebumps over your skin. He hooks the strap under his fingers and brings it over your shoulder, pulling at it enough to make your eyes widen. Then his touch is gone, leaving a strange sensation in its place. 

“You’re dressed really pretty, today,” he says. 

You smile at the joke before you’ve said it. “As opposed to every other day,” you say. 

“This is beautiful. You look beautiful.” 

You duck your head. Sincerity in the face of your sarcasm inspires an amazingly dizzy feeling in the stem of your neck. You have to force back a smile. 

“Thank you, Clark. I’m… glad you think so,” you say eventually. There’s emphasis there for him to take or leave. 

You can see his hesitation, then, a palpable pause while he makes a decision. 

“It’s a nice skirt,” he says quietly. 

There’s nothing imposing in his tone, but there doesn’t need to be. He isn’t tall, dark, and handsome, he’s incredibly, scarily brilliant. He’s smiling at you like you’ve given him a compliment. 

“It’s a little brave,” you say. 

“Bravery suits you. Anyways,” —he touches your arm briefly— “don’t let me keep you. Eat your lunch. Hopefully your coffee won’t be too cold to enjoy when you’re finished.” 

You wish he’d press you up against a wall. He did notice the skirt. He has the self control to leave it alone, or at least to wait for you to bring it. And… yeah, that’s working for you, actually. Really working. You stood in the sunshine to give him an explicit view of your legs and he brought you cupcakes to say thank you. 

—

Apparently, there are limits to Clark Kent’s self control. 

You’re lavishing in Centennial Park under a gorgeous sun. It’s barely seventy two degrees, a tame heat for July in Metropolis, and yet the sun is hitting you just right, kissing at your skin, leaving you sated and heavy under its weight. Clark has rolled up his sleeves (a contributing factor, perhaps, to the contentness you’re carrying) and loosened his tie, sitting where you’re laying down, a sweet hand held to your knee. Today’s skirt is a bias-cut midi dress made of a dark sage green. There are bell-sleeves like petals and a neckline you aren’t worried about, not when he’s guarding you like this. You shift on your back to better feel the sun on your face, and he pulls the skirt along the inside of your thigh. Keeping it in place to protect your modesty, setting every nerve-ending you have aflame with pleasure. 

“Tell me if you feel too warm,” he says. 

“I’m not worried about the sun.” 

“What are you worried about?” 

“Oh, the usual. That some weird space creature is gonna break the atmosphere and kill us,” you croon. 

He delights in your tone, his thumb sweeping a line into your leg. “I won’t let anything kill you.” 

You’d kissed his cheek in the elevator because the line of his nose had looked rather unkissed, and his cheek had been the politer option. You hadn’t expected the quick turn of his head, or the complete lack of nonchalance about him as he’d smiled and laughed and pressed that same cheek to your temple as he’d hugged you with one arm. 

So now you’re here in the park because you hadn’t wanted him to stop touching you. The summer dress wasn’t part of your seductions but it seems to be working all the same. You’re hoping you’ll get a kiss of your own to settle the score before the sun goes down. With where his hands are resting, you aren’t sure where you want one most. One hand on your thigh, one on your knee, his body turned to you like it’s the natural thing to do. He could be generous and give you a kiss beneath both palms. You think you’d quite like that. 

“Do you worry about that a lot?” 

“Hm?” 

“The aliens… The space creatures, do you worry you’ll get hurt?” 

“Not really. We have a great protection detail, don’t we?” you ask. 

He’s quiet for a bit. “What do you think about him?”

You don’t ask, Superman? Of course he’s talking about him. “He’s extremely handsome.”

Clark laughs boisterously and shakes you by the leg. “Alright. Knock it off.” 

“Or what?” 

“Or nothing. Just knock it off.” 

He makes everything sound so satiny. 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he adds. 

“Promise?” 

Half a joke. Clark pushes his glasses up onto his nose and finally leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your elbow where your arms are crossed over your chest. “Yeah. I promise.” 

You let him walk you home. That night, one of the star-shaped superaliens appears in the air near your apartment and then there’s a breathless Clark on the line asking if you need some company. You tell him no, ask if you can see him tomorrow when the dust settles, and he promises you that his Saturday was all yours. He actually says it, says, “I think you could ask me for anything after today and I’d try to do it for you.” He’s laughing to diffuse the weight of it, but you take it to heart. 

A Saturday turns to Sunday. A week turns to two. You and Clark trade careful kisses anywhere but the mouth and he doesn’t mention your little skirts. You keep wearing them, especially the velveteen lavender one too sheer for summer, layered over a short silk underskirt to protect your own wits. You’ve seduced him (have you?) but now you’d really like to keep him. 

It’s a Tuesday morning with little to give. The air is already warm, the tram platforms are full. You commute to the Daily Planet for another day of dedicated journalism. 

Jimmy begins the morning with praise. “I made your honeycomb macarons. I actually made them.” 

“And?” 

“And? They were amazing! You’re such a goddamn genius,” he says. 

He gives you a macaron from a tin shaped like Yoda. The cookie is sweet with that perfect, delicate crunch, and the honeycomb ganache is better than your own. You take another one from his tin, giving him a congratulatory pat on the elbow. “They’re amazing!” you say, shells and honeycomb pieces thick in your mouth. 

“What’s amazing?” 

You remember where you are urgently. 

“I made macarons,” Jimmy says. 

Clark doesn’t make fun of his pride. “Really? That’s awesome, man. Can I try one?” 

You swallow the lump in your mouth, washing it down with a quick swig of coffee. 

“Morning,” Clark says. 

“Hi. Good morning.” 

“Hi,” he says, fond. “How has your day been so far?” 

You lick your lips without thinking, sweetness lingering in the stick of your lipgloss. “It was good, yeah. The tram was hot.” 

“You look good.” 

Jimmy wrinkles his nose. “Guys, we talked about this.” 

“‘Bout what?” Clark asks, finishing his macaron in one bite. 

Jimmy is kind enough to roll his eyes and leave it alone, wandering off with his tin clutched to his chest. Clark rolls his eyes too, a secret gesture that has you laughing through your nose. 

“You do look good,” he says again. 

You look down in mild bewilderment. “It’s laundry day.” 

You’re in a pair of black slacks that threaten to slip off your hips at any moment and a button up that should be tight to the waist but unfortunately isn’t. You’d saved the outfit with a necklace and a handful of jewelled rings, but it’s nothing like the stuff you’ve been wearing as of late. Of course he’d notice. 

“This…” He raises a hand to your hip but doesn’t touch.

“What?” 

His thumb presses to a slip of skin so small you hadn’t noticed it was visible. His brow creases like he’s been burned, yet his hand remains where it is. After a heavy second, he squeezes, and he says something too quiet to hear to himself. 

“Clark?” you ask tentatively. “You okay?”

“You have no clue… no clue what you do to me.” 

His eyes are all on you. Deep, indigo-blue. 

Heat leeches up your neck. Your heart capers suddenly. “What do I do to you?” you ask, your tentativeness turned to silk.  

“Don’t.” 

“What do I do, honey?” you ask, nearly whispering now. “I don’t have a clue, right? So tell me, then, what I do to you?”

“What am I supposed to do?” His fingers adjust against your hip. “Why would you do this here?” Clark’s voice breaks with a put-upon heartache. He’s still smiling. “What am I supposed to do, here?” 

“Take me somewhere else.” 

His hand falls away from your hip. You can feel where his fingers had shaped your skin for minutes afterward, following him with a poorly faked casualness to the elevator. 

He hits the button for the basement as you step in. 

“I think they’re still printing,” you say. The mock-up copies get made in the basement, and it’s an all day affair. “It’ll be as busy there as it is–”

No sooner has the elevator started moving than Clark is hitting the emergency stop. 

“Clark!” you say. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He doesn’t laugh. You lean away from him to take in his long body, his grey suit and red tie and the wetted run of his bottom lip. He has honeycomb in the very corner of his mouth. 

You raise your hand to wipe it away. 

“Yeah, okay,” you say, tilting your chin up slowly. 

Clark grabs two great, heaping, greedy handfuls of your back, long fingers spread out and guiding you in for a kiss you aren’t expecting. There’s genuine hunger there, your teeth clicking as you’d always imagined, a voracious sort of meeting that quickly gentles. He lets out a sigh against your lips and melts against you like a stick of butter over a flame, lax, a hand traversing upward and over and– and his mouth, his kisses are these open, warm mouthings you meet with a stammering heart. This isn’t the slip of control you’d imagined it to be. 

Clark’s kissing you without an ending in mind. You can feel it in the tenderness of his open palm, seemingly laid to sleep at the small of your back. 

“How long does that work?” you ask in a murmur, your lips happily stung. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never done that before.” 

“Really?” 

“When would I have had reason to try?” Clark asks, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You’re so pretty.” He steals another quick kiss. “Do you know that?” 

“I can’t believe this is what got you to crack,” you laugh. 

His eyebrows pinch. “What?” 

“This,” you gesture to your clothes. “Of all the things I’ve worn.” 

“I don’t understand.” Though it’s dawning on his face quickly. “Oh. You– The… Oh.” 

His neck goes all shades of rose. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. 

He tips your head back nicely. “For what? I would’ve cracked anyway. You could’ve worn anything, but… The little purple skirt, that was for me?” 

You press your flushed face to his chest, arms crossing lazily behind a strong neck. “Clark…” you mumble. 

He digs his face into your neck to kiss the softness beneath your ear. You’re surprised he doesn’t whine your name back to you, what with the mood he’s in, but Clark’s got a propensity for sweetness that won’t quit. 

“On purpose,” he whispers, vindicated. “I knew it.” 

The elevator chugs back to life. 

—

You are delightfully, blissfully human. There comes a time when you need saving, and it just so happens that Metropolis brags its very own (and very only) Krypton superbeing. One minute you’re being squeezed in the fist of a raspberry-furred mega fox thing, and the next you’ve been freed and grabbed and propelled through the air in arms that feel oddly familiar. 

“Miss, are you okay? Miss? Miss, are you alright?” 

You look down at the ants of your city and nearly puke up your dinner. “Oh my fuck,” you squeeze out. 

“I’m sorry! I’m taking you back down. There’s a girl, breathe in for me. Deep breaths.” 

You can hardly breathe at all, but your shallow breaths earn you a thank you and a proud pat on the back. Your legs are shaking so hard at touchdown that Superman has to physically arrange them beneath you, his arm glued to the small of your back when you list unsteadily. 

“You’re okay,” Superman assures you. 

His little curl is ever so darling. “Like Clark’s,” you say unthinkingly, wrapping the short strands of hair around your finger. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, generously ignoring your moment of delusion. 

“I thought I was gonna die.” You blanche, glancing back over your shoulder for signs of the megafox. “Fuck.” 

“Everything’s fine, now. I promise you.” 

You take a deep breath. Superman holds you by both shoulders, forcing you to copy a second, deeper breath, then a third. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. 

Too much like Clark. “My boyfriend, he was–”

“Everyone’s safe.” 

You let out a shaky breath. The last of your panic ebbs from your shoulders. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, thank you. For saving me. Thank you so much.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” he says. His voice goes bendy and weak. 

“I really do. If I died in this skirt, my boyfriend would never forgive me.” 

Superman gives you an appraisal, up and down. Heat flares in your stomach and refuses to cool as he smiles. “Wouldn’t wanna ruin a skirt like that,” he says knowingly. 

You shake your head, not without fondness.

All boys are the same. 

˚‧꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed <3 and thank you Bec for reading it twice at different times

[defututus]

sometimes you can't tell if clark is talking to you or himself when he eats you out. his chin is well past damp, soaked with the slick that he lathers back onto your folds with a flicking tongue. he keeps mumbling "oh, my god," just under his breath like he can't believe what he's tasting. like he can't believe the sight of you laid out before him, legs spread and clit swollen in its spit-soaked shine.

smacking his lips around your nub, clark rambles. about how pretty you are, how stunning. that he absolutely positutely–yes, those exact words–loves being able to lick you like this. to slurp into your slit and hold you while you squirm. mumbling about the sweet tang of your juices between each sloppy kiss. lines of spit hang from his mouth when he inches away, the draping drool guiding him back to you with phantom calls and a mesmerizing shimmer.

looking up at you, clark blinks with attentive eyes. hands caressing where he's cradling your sides with his palms, he speaks low and wondering.

"s'at feel good? 'm i doing okay?"

grinning at the nod you gift him, clark sinks his mouth in a smooth return onto your drench lips. toiling his jaw with even harder, deeper licks and mastered suckles, the warm muscle of his tongue relentless in its quest to free your release.

he's hungry. starving, truthfully, and babbling garbled strings of sentences you can't even understand. the words vibrate straight onto your center, which he consumes until you yank at his hair with heavy pants. forcing him to stare at your moaning writhes with hooded eyes and lick the mess of you from his lips.

not quite full. but willing to wait until you catch your breath to finish his favorite meal.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[defututus]

I know it's only July, but I'll be traveling for work in August + September, so I need to start planning my 3-year blog anniversary in October. And since I'm incapable of making a decision, I'm humbly asking for opinions.

Do we want an event where I take special requests (like last year's Meet? Cute.), an event where I provide prompts for my followers (like Flip Flopped), or should I just continue writing LAM and the Superhero!Steve AU with @corroded-hellfire?

[defututus]

sweet girl

6.6k | mechanic!Eddie Munson x coworker!Reader | Smut

Eddie's trying to rebuild his social life, with little success. When he finally has something to celebrate, he invites you and some guys from the shop out for drinks - his treat. When you're the only one who shows up at the bar, he finds himself seeing you in a new light.

anon asked: Eddie goes out one night and sees the funny kind but not attractive girl from work at a club. He sees her in a new light. NSFW idea

Notes: Reader is a little insecure. Soft dom!Eddie/needy sub!Reader. Gareth makes an appearance, but I (the author) am not very nice to him. Or his grandma.

Eddie's always been a little bit of a flirt. Nothing too crazy - he's always considered himself pretty good at reading the room - but sometimes just enough to get himself into trouble. Between that and his bad reputation, there's a reason his boss normally has the girl at the front desk handle all his transactions with customers.

Working at Kovach's took some getting used to at first. He's a social person, freak or not, and his coworkers… Well, they're outgoing in some ways, but they're not much like Eddie. Not nerdy, not big into his kind of music. And while he's been able to skate by with coworkers in the past by being charming and funny, the coworkers who've liked him the most are usually women. And, well, there aren't a lot of girls working at Kovach's Auto Repair. As a matter of fact, there's only one: you.

While Eddie knows his way around a car, he doesn't always know how to handle the sausage fest that is Kovach's. He's not an unmanly guy, but he's not exactly one of the boys, either. So more often than not, when Eddie's feeling social, he finds himself leaned against the front desk, teasing you about little things. How carefully you write when you total up parts and labor, the way you've actually got a preference for brands of copy paper.

Today's been a good day. Eddie's made a fair bit of cash from wrapping up a big repair - uninsured driver, hit a deer - and all that work has paid off. He's going out tonight to celebrate, and of course, you're invited.

"Me?" you ask, brow furrowing in disbelief as he plucks a cupcake out of the Tupperware dish beside you.

If Eddie notices your surprise, he doesn't mention it. "Yeah, duh," he says flatly. "You ever been to Crafter's?" It's a little brewery that opened up in the center of town. It's not the Ritz, but it's a little classier than The Hideaway. Over the last few years, Eddie drinks a lot less than he used to, so he prefers a quality drink when he does, instead of whatever glorified nail polish remover will get him drunk the fastest.

He's got no shame as he crams about two-thirds of the cupcake into his mouth. It's yellow cake and blue-dyed buttercream frosting. Eddie wouldn't just kill for the sweets you bring in on Fridays - he'd die for them. You gave up a long time ago on expecting Eddie to stick to one, so you've started bringing a little extra. For the whole crew, of course. Just in case.

You shake your head. "No, I've never been."

"Well, consider it a date," he says casually as he licks icing off his hand. "You, me, Gareth, and whatever other unlucky schmucks here don't already have plans for the night."

It doesn't go unnoticed by you that Eddie just assumes you don't have plans. Unfortunately, he's right, so it's hard to be mad. It's been a while since you've gone out anywhere, so you really can't blame him.

"Alright," you shrug.

Eddie throws a little side-eye your way. "'Alright'?"

You laugh at that. "What do you want me to say, Eddie? 'Oh, benevolent overlord, thank you for this blessing. I'd never be invited anywhere without you.'"

His grin is worth the teasing, and he throws a wink your way. "Now, that's more like it," he says, pointing in your direction. Then, he leans back in to snatch another cupcake, and you swat his hand away. He heads back into the shop with his hands up in surrender, wicked grin all but promising he'll be back to try again.

Surprising absolutely nobody, none of the guys from the shop come. Eddie's been trying to get to know his coworkers better, but it's been an uphill battle. Not everyone is keen to be seen associating with him in the first place. Plus, most of them have worked there since the shop opened. They're all somewhat older than Eddie and usually have wives to get home to or some sportsball event on TV.

But Eddie's been working hard to keep an open mind and an optimistic outlook. It's hard to do - harder than ever - but it's also more important than ever. Somewhere in the aftermath of all the shit that's gone down in Hawkins, he realized the only way he was ever going to have a life was to start acting like, one day, he might have one.

So he tries to let it roll right off his back, like a duck in water.

Gareth showed up, which is at least better than no one. And you should be here any minute now, assuming you keep your word. And he doesn't take you for a liar.

"What's this girl's name again?" Gareth asks, frowning at his cider. He doesn't love meeting new people and isn't very good at remembering them, either. He's already met you once, when he brought his car into the shop, but Eddie supposes maybe he wouldn't remember your name, either, if he'd only ever interacted with you once at the checkout counter.

It's not that there's anything wrong with you. It's just that he wouldn't exactly consider you memorable. You're punctual and diligent. You do a good job working the front desk, but Eddie's not sure what would even make a receptionist stand out in a place like Kovach's, or what would qualify one for employee of the month.

You're not what Eddie'd call a knockout, either. The guys at work don't make up excuses to come and lean against the counter all casual-like, just so they can lay eyes on you. They don't ask you out for dinner, or offer their "services" - the single employees or the customers. It's not like someone would take a look at you and run for the hills, but you're just… a regular person. Exactly the kind of girl Eddie would expect to see working the counter at Kovach's.

So no, you're not exactly memorable. But you are cool, in a sense. Your uncle runs the shop, so you're not afraid of making fun of the other mechanics with Eddie when you've got downtime. (What's he gonna do? Fire you?) And you're always willing to help Eddie squeak in last-minute orders for parts, even when you should tell him to wait until tomorrow. And the thing that makes you the coolest is that you look at Eddie like he's somebody, which is a lot better than he gets from anyone else at the shop, except for Kovach himself.

Eddie reminds Gareth of your name for the third time since he invited him to Crafter's in the first place. Says it nice and slow, then spells it for good measure with a mocking tune.

He never even sees you coming when you pull the barstool away from the high-top and climb onto it. One second, there was no trace of you, and now, here you are, in all your glory (or lack thereof).

"You spelled it wrong," you say by way of a greeting. You don't look directly at him, but you're not looking at Gareth, either. Instead, you lean slightly toward Eddie, bending over at the waist to place your purse on the ground between his seat and yours. Your hair brushes his arm, and he pulls back, trying to give you some space.

When you sit up straight, you flash Eddie a half-heartedly apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that." Then you look across the table. "You must be Gareth?" you ask.

Eddie blinks, realizing he's fumbled the intro already. "Oh, yeah." There's something about your arrival that's thrown Eddie off-kilter. It's probably just that he expected he'd see you walk through the door - that's part of why he chose this table in the first place.

Gareth, for his part, doesn't seem fazed at all. He just says "yep," as though having a bit of personality might actually kill him.

"No Greg?" you ask Eddie.

He shrugs. "They all said no, except for Michael, who said maybe, which means no."

Gareth whistles lowly at that and shakes his head, taking a big swig of his cider. Eddie wrinkles his nose in response. Gareth's never learned how to savor anything. He drinks to get drunk. Eddie used to, too; now, he doesn't remember what he enjoyed about it.

"Wow, Ed," Gareth drawls, "your social life is reaching new heights every day."

Eddie doesn't even dignify Gareth with a response. There's plenty he could make fun of Gareth for, but he knows this game well. Eddie's got the advantage of knowing both of his guests, and you and Gareth don't know each other at all. Leave it to Gareth to try and build a bridge by making Eddie the butt of the joke.

He doesn't mind, not really. It's probably better than Gareth ignoring you all night.

So instead of reacting to Gareth's stupid jab, Eddie looks at you intently. "Want anything to drink?"

You cock your head to the side and look at the glass he's got his hand wrapped around. "What are you drinking?" Your voice is soft; he can just hear you over the low thrum of guitar and voices of regulars.

Eddie's been experimenting with mixed drinks since he started coming to Crafter's, and he's challenged himself not to drink the same thing twice all summer. It started as a bid to make conversation with the bartender on duty during his first visit. Now it's turned into a collaborative quest to test the limits of what Bartender Nick can do with the supplies available to him. Eddie's had some real stinkers as a result - last week, it was some atrocity that had the consistency of egg drop soup - but this one's not bad at all.

"Coffee and Coke," he tells you, like that's a normal thing to be drinking.

You don't seem impressed. Even worse, from your expression, you're a little revolted. "Seriously?"

"Well, yeah. It's like an espresso martini but with Coke." You don't seem convinced. "Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it. I'll buy you one if you'll give it a chance."

"I think I'd rather have a drink menu."

Eddie sighs theatrically, but like a diligent host, he pushes his barstool back and stands. "Your loss," he says, waggling his eyebrows. "Food menu, too?"

"Yes," Gareth chimes in, looking bored as usual.

"Be nice," Eddie warns Gareth, signaling that he's keeping an eye on him before weaving through bodies and chairs to the bar. That's all he needs, is Gareth scaring you off before you can even settle in.

For better or worse, before Gareth even receives the appetizer he ordered, his mom calls the bar, asking for him, and he has to leave. Grandma had a fall, and his mom had to take her to the hospital but forgot all of Grandma's meds at home. Eddie asks if he's going to be okay, but Gareth doesn't let on like he's worried. He says it doesn't sound too serious, and despite how much Gareth pretends he doesn't care about anything, Eddie knows he's a Grandma's boy through and through. If it was a big deal, he'd be acting like it.

"Poor Grandma," you say with a contemplative frown after Gareth leaves.

Eddie'd never given a lot of thought to the prospect of getting older and what that must be like until '86. He never really thought he'd live to be old. Now that he's determined to do so, that kind of stuff weighs on his mind more than he'd like. He makes a mental note to take some flowers to Gareth's grandma tomorrow, after sleeping off whatever level of hangover he leaves Crafter's with.

As if like clockwork, one of the servers brings out the appetizer sampler. Eddie asks her to put Gareth's purchases on his tab. Gareth tried to insist on paying for himself earlier, but Grandma's unfortunate fall means that he isn't there to stop Eddie from covering the bill.

You and Eddie split Gareth's appetizer, and you chat a bit about you. While you're always friendly at work, you don't talk about yourselves much at all - just small talk and the like, and those awesome desserts you bring. You talk about how you moved back to Hawkins after college, that your family had lived here for a while when you were young, and then when you struggled to find a job after college, your uncle agreed to hire you. You tell him about your little shoebox apartment above the general store on Main Street.

He tells you he plays guitar, and that he and Gareth used to be in a metal band together, called Corroded Coffin. You talk about music quite a lot, comparing notes - the unexpected things you have in common, the funny differences in your tastes. Eddie's softened up a little in the last several years and has been trying to expand his musical horizons. He confesses that he's got a soft spot for Madonna.

It's when you laugh at his admission that something shifts in his mind. When you arrived, you sat between him and Gareth at the circular table, meaning you're directly to his left. You're sitting so close, he hasn't actually gotten a good look at you - although, he guesses he wasn't really trying. But when you laugh, he sees up close the way your eyelashes flutter, the way your smile touches your eyes. And your eyes - they're full of affection instead of judgment.

Eddie's seen you nearly five days a week for months now, and talked with you at least once each of those days, and yet, he's never really noticed you. Not the way he's noticing you now. He can't help but smile at the sound of your laugh, and against his will, his eyes follow the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. You feel impossibly close. He didn't even see it before, the way your shoulders are tilted in towards him, and the way he's also turned slightly on his barstool, leaving you only a few inches apart.

When you place your elbow on the table and support your cheek with your hand, he sucks in a breath and leans back, blinking. He's been drinking, but he's not drunk. Not drunk enough to cause the warmth in his belly and chest, or the muddled feeling in his mind.

"I'm gonna go grab another drink. D'you want another one?" he asks with a nod toward your empty glass.

"Oh," you say, perking up, "sure!"

"Alright, what do you want?"

You're already sliding off of your barstool behind him. "I'll come with you. I don't trust you with my drink." Eddie's brow furrows at that before you interrupt his train of thought with another laugh. "Not like that - I don't remember what's on the menu, and you clearly have bad judgment," you say, waving a hand at what used to be his drink.

Bartender Nick had called it a Monkey Gland, whatever that means. Eddie's not even sure what was in it, just that it was a lot in the flavor department.

Eddie lets you lead the way to the bar, and oh, man, that was a mistake. Now that he's more than a foot away from you, his curious eyes are quite busy, and that's not a good spot to be in when trying to keep up in a crowd.

You've done your hair, is the thing - not like you do for work, but something softer and more feminine. He noticed your makeup earlier, your striking eyes, but he failed to notice the hair. Or your dress, for that matter; it's a tight little thing that ends at your mid-thigh. It fits like it was made for you. He's never seen you out of uniform, or wearing anything but non-slip tennis shoes. Your strappy heels draw his attention, glinting gold in the overhead lights.

You look like you dressed up, is the thing. Yeah, your outfit is cute. Yeah, you're more relaxed tonight than you ever are at work - and more conversational. But you look like you tried. Do you try like this for all your social events? Did you dress up for Eddie?

Did you come to Crafter's with the intention of going home to a place you've never been? Or do you have an "afterparty" he's not been invited to attend?

By the time you reach the bar, he's sweating, and it's not just his hair. It's you.

"I thought you weren't having anything you've already had this summer," you tease as you climb back onto your barstool. You just got a refill of your usual, but Eddie's changed from some obscure cocktail to a piña colada.

"Maybe I've never had a piña colada before," Eddie says, raising his eyebrows at you.

"I don't believe you."

Eddie simply sips through his straw in response, pink lips wrapped nicely around the black plastic.

You're feeling warm from the alcohol, and making conversation with Eddie is as natural as anything. Eddie's always a little bit of a charmer at work, and sometimes you struggle not to blush, but this is different. His not just charming tonight - he's flirtatious. You wonder if he's like this with all of his friends. Although, you can't imagine he'd flirt well with Gareth.

After a little while if shooting the shit, Eddie's posture grows a little more stiff. He leans back on his barstool and rolls his shoulders. "Thank you for coming out tonight," he says, just loud enough for you to hear him over the music, but low enough that you have to lean in.

"Yeah, of course," you say with a smile, surprised at the gratitude. "I wouldn't have missed it." Although, it's just now occurring to you - none of the guys from work came, and Gareth had to leave early. If you hadn't come, Eddie'd be spending tonight at the bar all by himself. The thought reminds you of birthday parties from your past, the ones where everyone said they'd be there but nobody showed.

Eddie's so genuine and so lively, you can't imagine him sitting in a bar all by his lonesome, waiting for someone to come who never will. Maybe it's just your little crush talking, but Eddie is… He's friendly and witty and oh my God, he's even hotter with his hair down. Someone like Eddie - it's baffling to think he could ever be stood up, by friends or otherwise.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Heat rushes to your cheeks as soon as you say it, and Eddie's brown eyes widen a little. You didn't exactly mean to ask. It just came out as soon as the thought crossed your mind. But you don't retract the question.

Clearing his throat, he says, "No, I'm not seeing anyone. Why do you ask?"

You feel a little bold, although not quite assertive. You look down at the table as you say, "I was just curious if anyone else would be coming to meet up with us."

After a beat of silence, Eddie's fingertips graze your thigh, just above the knee. When you look up at him, his brown eyes are warm like caramel. "It's just us."

Eddie doesn't know how it happened. It's like his fingers moved of their own volition, but he could swear he feels a spark when his skin meets yours. Your eyes haven't left his, but you take a sip of your drink through the little black straw, and then he feels you press into his touch, ever so slightly.

Every time Eddie's ever talked to you, he's noticed how kind you are, and how funny. But he's never before noticed the exact shade of your eyes, or—Jesus Christ—the scent of your hair. It's coconut. The smell is intoxicating, and it leaves him wanting more. So much that when his chest brushed against your shoulder at the bar, the only thing he could think about was coconut. He opened his mouth to ask for a lemon drop and ended up ordering a piña colada instead.

"Do you—" Eddie cuts himself off abruptly. For a moment there, he was almost so lost in your eyes that he forgot himself. You're his coworker. Your uncle owns the company he works for. The first place that's really given him a chance. It's a terrible idea.

But he doesn't miss the way your jaw drops, lips parting just slightly. "Do I what?" you ask. Slowly, you lift your leg up and cross it over the other, leaning just a bit closer in your seat. And Eddie can see it. He can see the way you want him, too. It's in your eyes. It's in your touch as you lay a soft hand on his forearm. It's in the flutter of your lashes as you look up at him, like you're waiting for him to give you something. Something he'd love to give.

Earlier today, Eddie had only ever thought of you as a friendly coworker, a buddy, maybe a confidant of minor indiscretions. Tonight, he can feel the charge of the static between you, can almost see the desire rolling off of you in waves. He knows what it feels like because it's vibrating at the same frequency of his own.

Eddie's been keeping a slow pace for his drinks, slower than he thought he would. His intention tonight was, despite his usual attitude, to get absolutely plastered. But he's been so caught up in chatting with you that he's only had three drinks, and it's been two and a half hours. And he's not even finished the third.

You're on your second, and he doesn't know your tolerance, but your eyes aren't glassy and your movements aren't that languid, too-slow pace of someone who's beyond tipsy. No, you're both a little tipsy at worst.

Your thumb brushes over the mottled scarring of his bat tattoo, and his breath catches in his throat. Finally, against his better judgment, he asks, "Do you wanna get out of here?"

Eddie's presence in your apartment is almost unnerving, with just how aware you are of him. You haven't had a guy over since you moved into the place six months ago, so for it to be Eddie, the funny guy from work who's way out of your league, is mind-boggling.

There's an awkward density to the air. It's surreal, is the thing. He's hanging his leather jacket up at the front door beside your raincoat, and your eyes are zeroed in on your feet as you undo the straps of your heels. Eddie takes his time unlacing his combat boots beside you. If he's as nervous as you are, he doesn't let on.

His hand brushes against your hip as you stand, ready to support you if you were to stumble. When you look up at him, he pulls you in close, one hand resting at your waist, and the other delicately cupping your jaw. His touch is gentle, like he's afraid you might shatter, or worse, run away.

You don't miss the way his gaze flickers to your lips and his own part slightly with anticipation. He leans in just an inch or two before stopping himself, big, brown eyes looking into yours. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice a low murmur.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is the way you get out of this awkward feedback loop in your head, you think. The overthinking, the wondering what changed for him, why he suddenly wants this when he's never seemingly looked at you twice. This is how it ends - by you taking his cues. You've thought about touching Eddie close to a hundred times, at this point, and now that you've got the opportunity, you don't know how to close the deal.

So you nod quietly and follow his lead.

For all that Eddie's fingers are calloused from working on cars and playing guitar, his touch is gentle. He strokes the pad of his thumb over your cheek, his breath warm on your skin as he presses his lips to yours. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes close, and you try to relax into him, hands finding his waist. His lips are softer than you would have expected, and he kisses you like…

It doesn't feel like an easy score or a one night stand, really. He moves slowly and methodically, but not without urgency. When he pulls back just enough to breathe, his lips find yours again quickly, and you inhale the scent of his cologne through your nose - bergamot and cinnamon. Your lips part slightly as his fingertips graze the soft skin behind your ear, and when they do, you feel his tongue brush gently against yours. It startles you a little, and you pull away, cheeks burning.

Eddie leans back to see you better. "You okay?"

Embarrassed, you nod and bite your lip. "Yeah, I'm fine. You just surprised me is all."

Cocking his head to the side, he asks, "Good surprise, or bad surprise?"

"Not bad."

His eyes search yours, and he cradles the back of your head with his hand. "You're sure you want to do this?" When you hesitate to respond, Eddie tips his head toward the couch behind you. "Why don't we go sit down and talk it out?"

As he leads you to the sofa, you complain, "I don't think we need to talk, really."

He shoots a look your way that says he begs to differ. "Honey, we're not getting anywhere if you can't talk to me about how you're feeling." When he sits, he turns his body to face you, one leg pulled up onto the couch and the other hanging off of it. Uncertainty all over your face, you mirror him, dress riding up your thighs.

Eddie politely pretends not to notice, instead taking your hand in his and leveling you with a look of genuine curiosity and a hint of concern. He hesitates to begin, not sure which route to take to steer the conversation in the right direction, but after a second, he finally just asks, "Are you attracted to me?"

Your cheeks burn hot at the question, but you nod. "Yeah, I am."

"Okay," he says, drawing out the second syllable. "Do you like me?"

Your brow furrows, like you're not sure why he would ask. "Of course I like you."

He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb and asks, "Okay, so what's going on? You seem nervous." After a beat, he says, "Is it because of Kovach?"

You wrinkle your nose at that. "Don't talk about him," you say quickly, like you're trying to put your uncle out of your mind as quickly as possible. "No, it's not that; it's just… are you actually, like, into me?" Eddie's taken aback by your question. You can tell from the way he blinks in response, so you continue. "You've never acted like you had any particular interest in me before, and then tonight, it's like something has changed, but—Do you actually want me, or do you just want someone?"

There it is, Eddie thinks, the big question.

He lets go of your hand and sits up a little straighter before asking, "Have you ever been somewhere before, like a neighborhood you drive through all the time, and thought it was a nice neighborhood but never thought too much about it?" When you make a face, he says, "Seriously, just humor me. Think about it."

Even though it's silly, you try to do as he asks. You imagine your drive to and from work. It's a short one. You follow Main Street, and then go out toward Maple, and then on to the edge of town. And between Maple Street and Kovach's, sure, there are some pretty nice houses, and some average ones, but overall, it's a decent neighborhood.

"Yeah, I guess so," you say hesitantly.

Eddie perks up a little at that. "Okay, so you're driving through this neighborhood that you go through every day, and part of what makes the neighborhood nice is all the individual houses. So you pass the first house, and it's decent, you know, you like the house alright. And you pass the second one, and it's pretty good, too. And you start thinking, okay, this must be an alright neighborhood. And then on down the street, there's, like, this beautiful house. It's got nice siding and brick, and the lawn is manicured really well, like the people who live there must really care about their house. It's got the white picket fence and everything. It's the American dream."

You laugh, a little awkwardly. "Eddie, I really don't understand what you're getting at here."

"You're the neighborhood," he says quickly, as though that makes perfect sense. "And it's like all the houses in the neighborhood are parts of you that I've seen before. But it's like, today, I saw this fucking beautiful house in the neighborhood, on a street I'd never gone down before, and all I could think about was how gorgeous that house is - and how much I like this neighborhood."

You make a face.

"Seriously," he says, leaning in a little closer. "I see you every day, and you know what? I like it when you bring cupcakes, and I like it when you make fun of the other guys and shitty, asshole customers with me, and the way you let me get away with putting in last-minute parts orders, and the way you get embarrassed when I catch you reading, and—"

He can see it in your eyes and the little crease between your furrowed eyebrows - he sees the way it's dawning on you now, but he says it anyway.

"I didn't realize how much I like those things, but tonight, when I got to see you really just be yourself instead of who you have to be at work - I loved that. And I love seeing you dressed like this, and acting a little more confident, but it's not just about the way you look. I feel like, for the first time, I'm really seeing who you are. And this isn't just a decent neighborhood to me anymore. I just realized tonight that this is a really nice neighborhood, a beautiful one, and I'd move there if one of the houses were up for sale. But before tonight, I just hadn't seen enough of the neighborhood to know."

Your voice is smaller, softer when you look up at him through your lashes. "Eddie…"

He licks his lips, brown eyes searching yours, and then he asks again, "Can I please kiss you?"

This time, you feel it - that electricity that binds you, the same spark that simmered in the current between you both at the bar. You don't bother answering him, just raise up onto your knees and close the gap between you. Your fingers slot themselves into Eddie's hair, that soft, curly hair you've been dying to touch for ages, and as your lips meet his, he pulls you in closer, standing to his feet. On paper, it looks like you're following his lead, but Eddie feels the insistence in your touch as your press your hands to his chest, guiding him backwards to the bed in the corner of the room.

When the backs of his legs connect with the mattress, you slide your hands up to the hem of his shirt and begin tugging it up his torso. Your lips part from his just long enough to pull the shirt over his head, and then you're back on him, pushing him down by the shoulders until he gets the memo to sit down at the foot of the bed.

A moan escapes you as your hands find his abdomen, palms pressed flat against the firm muscles you've only seen in glimpses at the shop. Eddie laughs at the needy sound that spills from your mouth, and he hooks one leg behind your knee, rolling over to pin you to the mattress. "Oh, honey," he coos, all sticky sweet sympathy. "You've been wanting this a long time, huh?"

If it was anyone else, you'd probably feel patronized, probably take offense. But you know Eddie, and instead of offending you, it only makes you want him more. Nodding emphatically, you tug him closer by the belt loops. "Think about you a lot," you confess, your breath catching at the end as he presses a soft, languid kiss to your neck, beneath your ear. Hitching your leg higher up his waist, you press your hips against his, searching for relief.

"Mm, do you?" His hands roam your body, caressing the outside of your thigh with one and hiking up the hem of your dress with the other. His smile is a little smug. "What do you think about?"

You don't think you could feel embarrassed right now if you tried. Your response spills out of you of it's own accord, on a breathy sigh, as he lowers the strap of your dress and kisses along your collarbone. "Think about your - mm, your fingers," you whimper. "Filling me up, getting me ready for you."

"Yeah?" he pulls you onto his lap, then. With his hand, he cups your heat through your panties. "These fingers?" he murmurs, stroking you through the thin fabric.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you brace yourself for his touch, hips squirming slightly to give him better leverage. You're on fire now, pulse thrumming hard and fast in your throat. "Eddie, please."

"Oh, honey," he says, looking into your glassy eyes, "you don't have to beg. I'll give it to you, I promise."

You can't help it - when he hooks his fingers into the side of your panties, pulls them aside and grazes his fingertips against your clit, you whine and dig your nails into his back. This isn't just sensitivity after a dry spell. You need his touch like you need to breathe. Now that you have it, it feels so surreal that it's painful.

"Let me take these off, sweet girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You do as he asks, and the maneuvering is a little awkward, but the anxiety is gone. When you settle back into his lap, he strokes the hair at your hairline and pulls you to his chest, letting you slump against his shoulder.

Eddie presses the pad of his thumb into your folds, and he listens to your sounds to help guide him. After just a couple of seconds, he finds your clit again - confirmed when you whimper and spread your thighs a little farther apart for him.

"That's it, baby," he coos, sweeping a broad circle around your clitoris before using his middle finger to trace a trail all the way down from your labia to your hole. Your walls clench at the sensation, and he must feel it because he hums soothingly when you do. Then, just as he presses one fingertip to your entrance, he asks, "D'you touch yourself like this?" You nod against his shoulder, shame and embarrassment completely absent from your mind. He dips his finger inside you, just to the first knuckle, before pulling out again. "You imagine it's me touching your pussy like this?"

He doesn't wait for your response before sinking his finger deep inside you, all the way down to the chunky, silver ring at his third knuckle. You cry out in response, thighs already shaking with anticipation. "Eddie," you whine, lifting your hips up to fuck yourself on his finger.

"You should have said something, baby," he says, syrupy sweet. "I'd have taken care of you a long time ago if I knew you needed me so bad."

Normally, his cockiness might be sexy, but right now, it's more frustrating than anything. You grit your teeth as he works another finger inside of you. The stretch is so delicious, you lose your train of thought for a moment, walls clenching tightly around him. It's made even more difficult to think when he resumes rubbing little circles into your clit with his thumb. For a few seconds, the only thing you can do is surrender to the pleasure and moan into his shoulder.

Just when you're starting to adjust, he curls his fingers forward, toward your pelvic bone, and you gasp at the sensation. He tries different angles, but it's only a matter of seconds before he finds that spot, the one that fills you with blinding, white-hot pleasure. Before long, you're chanting his name like it's a life-saving incantation, and you're barely able to get a grasp on what's happening before your climax hits, hard and fast and way too soon, and suddenly, you're cumming all over his fingers. When you cry out his name, your voice sounds ragged to your own ears, like it's coming from someone else entirely. Your hips buck against his hand, silently begging for both more and less at the same time.

He works you through your orgasm, tells you what a great job you've done, how beautiful you look while taking his fingers. Wrenching a sob from your throat with one hand, he uses the other to rub your back, soothing you with touch and praise.

When you finally finish, you push his hand away half-heartedly, clitoris too overstimulated to handle anymore of his ministrations. Eddie laughs and eases you down onto your back, then presses a soft kiss to your temple as you try and catch your breath.

He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, gentleman-like, as though he didn't just make you cum all over his lap merely seconds ago. Your brain is seemingly stuck in overdrive, thoughts incoherent.

When his hand grazes your thigh, you look over at him, where he lies beside you, and his expression is serious - the most serious you've ever seen it. "Can I touch you again?" he asks, and your mind races at the thought.

Of course he can touch you, you think, but you don't know if you can handle it. "I-I'm sensitive," you say, looking into his eyes for any hint of disappointment.

"Sensitive… here?" He taps a finger just to the side of your clitoris, and you nod, curling into him. When you do, he asks, "What if I don't touch you there? You think you could handle that?"

Headlights shine through the window above Main Street and ricochet off the walls, casting Eddie's face in just a glimpse of light. In that moment, you can see it highlighted all over his face, the desire smoldering in his big, brown eyes. And you know you'd give him anything he wanted, even if you felt like you were going half-insane with over-stimulation.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. "What do you wanna do?"

He walks his fingers across your arm and pulls you closer. His voice is low as he murmurs, "I wanna take my time with you… wanna see how pretty you look when you cum on my cock."

Normally, that kind of talk might make you feel embarrassed from it's crassness, but instead, it's the flattery that makes you bite back a smile. "I'm not pretty," you say. Your voice holds no conviction.

Eddie's fingers cup your jaw, tilting your chin up so you can't look away when he says, "You're beautiful to me."

[defututus]

[defututus]

I’ve been picturing this about the AYW universe, about Luke or Ryan’s friend having a little crush on reader and Eddie gets a little overprotective in a jokingly way…. (Not really) 😖😖

+ Just read through AYW and I loved it and the blurbs. Was thinking about how Ryan and Luke would handle having a young mom, like when Ryan brings guys over as a teenager and after is suddenly against having any friends over, being rude to reader. She starts getting really upset about it and Eddie investigates because it’s just so out of character, just to find out it’s because the guys keep making comments about how hot she is or how she’s a MILF, lol. Eddie tries to lighten the situation by saying it’s clear she likes ‘em older anyways, but Ryan’s still apprehensive.

+ We’ve gotta see more of the boys friends finding reader hot in AYW! shes young(er) than Eddie and cool and Eddie getting protective when he finds out in your hockey fic is so funny

+ Hey! I just binged the AYW series and I can’t tell you how obsessed I am with it. Not sure if you’re taking requests but I’d love something set when Ryan and Luke are in high school and maybe one of them has their friends over and reader and Eddie overhear the friend call reader a MILF lol. I just feel like Eddie’s reaction would be hilarious and the boys would be so quick to fight their friend.

I'm obsessed with this idea and everyone reacting to it. I am so glad others wanted to see it too lol

Words: 2.6k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The breeze blows in from the kitchen window above the sink as you wash out the bottles that you used to feed the twins this morning. The hot late July afternoon was a killer, even with the air conditioning pumping out cool air as fast as it can. You wipe your forehead off with your wrist, careful not to get any soap on your face. 

Despite the heat, Eddie comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, placing a series of kisses against your neck. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side.

“Isn’t it too hot to cling to me?” you ask.

“You’re too hot for me not to cling to.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head in amusement. 

“I’m just glad my old clothes fit again after giving birth,” you say. “I didn’t have any maternity shorts, so thank God I’m back to pre-pregnancy with twins.”

Eddie’s hands slide down your sides and grab your ass.

“They’re pretty short. I like it,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I’m glad you approve,” you reply absentmindedly as you dry off a bottle.

“Boys home yet?” Eddie asks, placing one more smack to your ass before going to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. 

“I don’t think so. I feel like we’d hear them.”

“True,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Speaking of hearing our loud children, Eliza down for her nap, too?”

“Yes,” you breathe out with a sigh. “A true miracle to get her to sleep at the same time as the babies.”

The sound of Eddie’s car rumbles into the driveway, and you know the quiet time in the house has come to an end, especially if Luke and Ryan brought their friends back with them from the lake. And by the sound of heavy tread and multiple voices shouting over one another, it sounds like they have.

“See ya,” Eddie says with a laugh before ducking down the hallway.

“Leave me to the wolves,” you mumble under your breath as you pick up another bottle to wash.

The front door opens, and you brace yourself for the teenage boy stampede.

“But that was so not on purpose!”

“No, it totally was!”

“Oh, shut up, we know it wasn’t.”

You chuckle to yourself, wondering which one of them wiped out and tried to play it off. The herd approaches the kitchen, which means you’ll soon be out of food and need to head to the grocery store.

“Hey, Ma!” Luke calls as they walk in.

“Hey, guys.” You look over and see your sons with four of their friends. Some look more familiar, like Ryan’s friend Owen, who comes over all the time to play video games with him. Another is Ben, you believe. You know you’ve met the other two before, but they look very similar to you, and it’s hard to remember who either of them is.

Ryan comes over and presses a kiss to your cheek before grabbing a glass that you had washed a few minutes ago. He pours himself a glass of lemonade and snatches it away from Owen when he tries to steal it. 

“Get your own, zit head.”

You grab another glass and turn around to hand it to Owen.

“Here you go,” you say, slightly patronizingly. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Munson,” Owen replies, giving Ryan a pointed look. “At least someone in this house likes me.”

“Hey, Mrs. Munson,” one of the unknown two says.

“Hey, how are you?” You give him a smile.

“Good, how are you?” he asks. 

“Sweaty,” you say with a chuckle as you turn back to the sink.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees the friend who just spoke, Jordan, let his eyes roam down your figure, lingering on the shorts covering your ass. Your younger son makes a sound in the back of his throat and bumps his shoulder against Jordan’s as he walks to the fridge to get a drink.

The next week, you’re getting groceries out of the trunk after you and Eliza return from shopping. She’s happily walking into the house with one bag in each hand, proud of her contribution. There are a few bags too many to make one trip into the house, but you can’t justify making two. You try to balance one bag on another when it starts to wobble. 

“Whoa!” Suddenly, a pair of hands grab the precarious bag and saves it from falling. 

A tall figure comes into your line of sight, and you see the boys’ friend Jordan. That’s it, right? You’d asked Ryan after the boys left last week. You learned to tell the difference between him and Miles because Jordan uses an unhealthy amount of gel in his short brown hair.

“Oh, thank you,” you say. “That would’ve been bad.”

“No problem.” Jordan gives you a smile, a little friendly for you barely remembering his name, you think. “Here, let me take some of these.” Jordan takes most of the bags in your arms and situates them in his.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, despite the relief you feel.

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Munson.” He flashes you another bright smile. “Just got here to pick up Luke to go play basketball. Perfect timing, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so,” you say, closing the trunk. 

You take a step towards the house, Jordan apparently waiting to follow behind you, when Ryan steps out of the house. His eyes go from you, to Jordan, to the bags in his arms, back to you. “Uh, hi,” Ryan says, brow furrowing a little. “I was just coming out to help.”

“Guess I beat you to it,” Jordan says, walking past him with the bags.

“Yeah.” Ryan watches as both you and Jordan walk into the house, his brain trying to figure out what just happened. He tries to shrug it off and heads into the house, closing the door behind him.

“You could lift me,” Eliza is saying to Jordan as Ryan walks into the kitchen. It’s obvious his little sister was admiring how many bags his friend could carry at once—considering she never took more than two at a time. 

“I could,” Jordan says with a chuckle. 

There’s a bump to Ryan’s shoulder and Luke walks past him into the kitchen, nodding at Jordan when he sees him. “Hey. I’m ready, just grabbing a water,” Luke says.

“No rush,” Jordan replies, eyes never fully leaving you unpacking the groceries on the table.

Ryan and Luke share a look, a silent acknowledgment that they know what’s going on with Jordan and they do not like it. 

“Could you lift Mama?” Eliza asks Jordan, looking at him with wide eyes.

Jordan chuckles at her question and the sound burrows beneath Ryan’s skin.

“I sure could,” Jordan says, a slimy, smarmy quality to his voice. “With no problem at all.”

“Alright, Hulk.” Luke claps Jordan on the shoulder, harder than necessary. His other hand clutches at his water bottle and he tries to steer his friend out of the kitchen. “Let’s go to the park.”

“Okay,” Jordan says, doing a doubletake at Luke, almost like he forgot he was there. 

“Bye, Jordan!” Eliza says with a grin, waving at him. 

“Bye, Eliza,” Jordan says. His eyes go from the little girl to you, and Ryan notices how his gaze intensifies. “Bye, Mrs. Munson. Have a good day.”

You look up from where you’re taking boxes of cereal out of a bag and give him a quick smile.

“Thanks, Jordan. Bye.”

Ryan is the only one who notices Luke practically drag Jordan out of the kitchen.

Eliza watches them go, moving towards the hallway to keep her eyes on them, and Ryan quickly snatches his sister up in his arms.

“Hey, you,” Ryan says, loud enough for Luke and Jordan to hear before they walk out the door. “We don’t stare at people in this house.”

A few days later, Ryan, Luke, and their gang of four friends are sitting in the living room, two boxes of pizza between the six of them. Some action movie is on television, and they’re all engrossed in it. You are very aware of the mess that will inevitably occur, so you grab a roll of paper towels and stroll in to toss it to one of your sons. Eliza is right on your heels, curious as always about her big brothers and their friends. 

“Hi Owen! Hi Ben! Hi Miles! Hi Jordan!”

“Hi, Eliza,” comes back a chorus of four teenagers.

“Liza,” Luke whines.

“Don’t worry, she’s coming with me,” you say, bopping Luke on the head with the paper towels before dropping them in his lap. 

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Jordan asks, looking over at you.

Across the room from one another, Ryan and Luke share an annoyed look. This is when it clicks in your head as well. Jordan had been nice to you from the start but so had the other guys. This was more, though. This had a layer of awkwardness beneath it that you couldn’t wait to escape. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “You guys are having fun together, I don’t wanna intrude.” Jordan opens his mouth, probably with a rebuttal, so you also add, “Not my kind of movie, either. And Eliza and I have plans.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Jordan says. “What’re you up to?”

“Dude,” Ryan groans. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to watch a movie,” Luke snaps.

It’s rare to hear your younger son sound so annoyed. It even catches the attention of Eddie as he passes by the living room. He comes to a stop, takes a step in, and casually lays his arm across your shoulders.

“Everything good?” he asks.

“Ryan and Luke are being mean to Jordan just cause he’s trying to talk to Mama,” Eliza says.

Eddie’s eyes slide over to Jordan, and he immediately notices the way the high schooler avoids his gaze. It seems like Jordan is looking anywhere but at him. Eddie turns his head to look at Ryan, making sure to keep Jordan in his peripheral vision, though. That’s when he catches the flirty look that Jordan sends your way. 

You feel the way his arm tightens around your shoulders, and you know it’s in the best interest of everyone to get him out of there.

“Enjoy your movie, boys. Come on, Eliza.”

You grab hold of Eddie’s bicep and practically drag him out of the room, trying to muffle your laughter at the way your husband glares at the teenager with a crush on you.

“Bye!” Eliza waves to the room full of boys before following her parents out of the room, before wandering off in search of something else to do.

“Dude, Mr. Munson is going to kill you,” you hear Miles say. It’s hard not to let out a snort of laughter.

“I do not like him,” Eddie snaps the moment that the living room is out of earshot.

Now you can’t contain your laughter as you cup his face in your hands.

“Eddie, sweetie. He’s a kid.”

“He shouldn’t be looking at you that way,” he practically growls. 

“I know,” you say.

“Miles is right, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Eds, look at me.”

He does, his jaw clenched and dark brown eyes ablaze.

“Are you really jealous of a dumb teenage crush?”

“I’m not jealous,” Eddie grumbles. “I’m possessive.”

“My mistake,” you say with a roll of your eyes. 

“I think Jordan needs to learn about boundaries.”

“My love?” You squeeze his face a little between your hands. “You have nothing to worry about. You know me. I mean, you have a bigger chance of losing me to Jordan’s dad.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow at you in annoyance and it’s impossible for you not to laugh again.

“Eddie, it’s a joke! I mean, I do like older men, if you haven’t noticed. Or, more specifically, one particular older man.”

Your words seem to calm your husband a bit, as his shoulders lose some of their tension and he lets out a sigh. 

“I’m keeping an eye on that kid,” Eddie huffs. “Hitting on my woman…”

“Whatever makes you feel better, babe.”

A little over an hour later, the movie is over, the pizza has been devoured, and it’s time for the guys to head home. Eddie makes sure he’s right there near the front door as your sons’ friends leave, not being subtle by having you tucked into his side and his arm snugly around your waist.

Ryan’s the first one out of the living room, irritation written all over his face. Owen is right behind him, followed by Miles, then Ben. Luke comes out with Jordan, his hand on his friend’s shoulder, head bent down as he speaks softly to him.

“So, have you ever had a near-death experience before? Just curious.”

Ryan opens the front door, clearly eager to get his friends out. By the looks on Owen, Miles, and Ben’s faces, they completely understand why. Luke gently shoves Jordan forward so he can head out the door as well.

“Goodnight, boys,” Eddie says with a tight smile. 

There’s a little too much glee on his face as he shuts the door behind Jordan with a satisfying click.

The next evening at dinner, Eddie wants to bring up the subject of the boys’ friends, specifically Jordan. He’s trying to think of a subtle way to bring the subject up, but luckily for him, he has a blunt and curious daughter.

“When your friends coming back?” Eliza asks as she spears a carrot with her fork.

“I dunno,” Ryan says with a shrug, not looking up from his plate.

“I like them,” Eliza says, stabbing at a piece of chicken on her plate next. 

“You like Owen,” Luke says with a small smirk, eyes sliding over towards his little sister.

Eliza gasps, her cheeks turning pink as her brow furrows. She drops her fork and rests both of her hands on her little hips as she glares at her big brother.

“Christ, your friends and the girls in this house…” Eddie grumbles under his breath before taking a sip of water. 

“Owen will be back,” Ryan says, trying to diffuse Eliza’s mighty fury before she lunges across the table at Luke. “And Ben and Miles,” Ryan adds with a mumble that sounds suspiciously like his father. 

“No Jordan?” Eliza asks.

“No,” Ryan says. “No Jordan.”

“Why?” The five-year-old asks.

“Liza, eat your dinner,” you say, swooping in. “You only had one carrot.”

Ryan shoots you a small smile that says everything that you two haven’t said out loud. 

Luke, however, doesn’t seem quite done with the subject.

“Jordan said Ma is a MILF.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly pop out of his head while you choke on a sip of water. 

“What?” your husband demands, his fists clenching on top of the table. You can see the cords of muscles straining beneath the skin of his forearms. “That little assh–”

Luke’s laughter interrupts his father’s curse. He leans back in his chair, one hand resting on his stomach, and his face lit up in amusement.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Luke looks at you apologetically. “I just wanted to see how Dad would react.”

“Jesus, Luke,” Eddie huffs. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

You can’t help but give your son a smile and nod your head at him.

“That was good.”

“Why?” Eddie asks with a sigh. “Why are you encouraging this?”

“It was pretty funny,” Ryan adds, his voice filled with humor. 

“Can we just eat? Please?” Eddie begs.

You give the boys a look, telling them it’s time to quit it now. 

Quiet falls across the table before a small voice pipes up.

“What’s a MILF?”