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take-everything-you-can · 2 days ago

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icy hot - nsfw practice

Johnny Storm x fem!Assistant!Reader (NSFW)

J. Storm Masterlist

Synopsis: Joining Johnny on a morning photoshoot, a delay keeps you in his dressing room for a little while. Instead of getting some work done, Johnny wants to screw around instead. Just…not the typical kind of screwing.

Warnings: no movie spoilers - smut/nsfw content; semi-public sex (dressing room sex on the makeup table, facing the mirror), cockwarming, ice play/temperature play, lightest of light denial, overstim of senses, nipple stim, clit stim, more of a dom!johnny, slight claiming behavior (he likes to leave semi-visible love bites), Johnny runs hot–including his cock, Johnny doesn’t cum; (also i am a fair bit sleep deprived while writing & editing the story, so it might be rough around the edges)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Don’t know if they’ll see it, but I got this listed (shown below) on the kinktober form for johnny and thought i'd give it a go and decided to post it now :) thank you for the prompt!!! I had fun writing this! :D I hope y’all like it!

Working with the Fantastic Four was serious work. It was hard work. Excruciating, hard work that required extreme focus, quick thinking, and long, sometimes endless, hours. Work that always paid off.

“Shhhhhhh. Sh, sh, shhhhhh,” Johnny whispered. “They’ll hear you.”

Bright lights hung over the wide, frameless mirror in front of you. Attached at the base to the thick wooden table that was cold underneath your hands. His hands pinned yours down, fingers lacing together with the tickle of his breath against your cheek.

The day just started, and you were staring at yourself–eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, chest heaving–as Johnny pushed his cock in balls deep. Your pencil skirt was pulled up and dug a little into your hips, your underwear was tucked into the inside pocket of his shirt, and his belt clanked just a little as he nestled into you.

Two months ago, a little bit of wine, a late night, Johnny strolling out to eat cereal at midnight, and you were both in a walking scandal waiting to happen. It’d have been one thing if you were publicly dating, but it…wasn’t that PG. That and the risk to his branding was too good to take away his single status.

“Feel it?” he murmured with a smile.

A rock of his hips would’ve rubbed his cock against every sensitive part inside of you, but that wasn’t what he was asking. Not the obvious, no. Johnny ran hot. Very hot. Hot enough that you could feel every near-burning inch of cock buried to the hilt inside of you. Completely still, and your knees started to give.

You managed a nod. He was supposed to be getting ready for a photoshoot, but it’d been delayed half an hour. He’d shrugged it off. No issue. You had some work for him that he could take care of in his dressing room anyway. His words. His claim.

Apparently, you were the work.

“Good,” he breathed. Teeth; he nipped at your jaw first, still not moving. Love bites he always teased. Love bites he always left. Always somewhere just hidden enough that any more professional clothing would hide them, but off-the-clock? One hand unlaced itself and unbuttoned the top of your blouse. One, two, three buttons, and you gasped as his fingers hooked around one cup of your bra. His hips still didn’t move. “Relax. The door’s locked.”

That wasn’t why you’d gasped. He knew that, though.

The vent just above you pumped cold air into the dressing room. It hummed through the walls and cooled sweat-dampened skin where Johnny already had you burning. It rushed across your breasts as both hands mirrored each other, and with a press of his hips forward, pinning you against the table, he pulled down.

His teeth sank into your shoulder the second your breasts were exposed. The pain was minimal, but it made you clench. Tied in with being stuffed full and the slow rise of his fingers toward your aching nipples, you were already dripping. You’d been dripping after he’d spent the last ten minutes rubbing your clit through your underwear while you tried to get some actual work done. But no, no–Johnny’s libido was higher than the Baxter Building.

Feather-light touches were just enough to drive you insane without getting to any edge, that this? He rolled your nipples between his fingers and pinched them with gradually increasing pressure. Your thighs started to shake and a moan–

“Shhhhh.” A searing kiss found your neck. “Shhhh.”

You tried. Staring down at the table of makeup, the schedule for the photoshoot, the snacks, the pitcher of ice water in a bucket of ice, copies of the magazine Johnny was going to be photographed for, you tried to shift gears. A focus on silence and not the tweak of your nipples as he sucked beneath your ear and slid one foot on the inside of yours.

A slow move. Bit by bit, he widened your stance. He cupped your breasts and pulled you back, back, back until you were flush against his chest, panting. Dripping. Your skirt was high enough–it’d be horribly wrinkled for the rest of the day, too–but you couldn’t stop looking at how you were already gushing. How your thighs twitched when one of his hands slid lower over your stomach, pulling your skirt up more. A lingering kiss found your neck before his other hand did, and your pearl necklace was caught in the crosshairs.

“Johnny,” you whined, watching in the reflection how his hand stopped at your cunt. Fingers splaying to show off just exactly how nestled in you he was and how wet you were for him.

Sliding up, his fingers brushed your clit. Just the faintest graze, and it was enough. More than enough. Your hips jolted, riding his cock accidentally, and when he pulled you back down, he shook his head.

“Not yet, we still had a lot of time before the shoot.” His hand closed a little tighter around your throat. “I want to do something else first. Okay?”

Oh, that could be anything. That could be nothing! That could be–

A lean. You followed his slight lean while your heart pounded. Followed the way his hand reached out to the left. Toward– Johnny. It was far from the first time you'd ever done something in that vein, but in public? Breaths came quicker, your pulse–you knew he could feel it where his fingers pressed your pulse point, he could feel every hard beat.

He dragged the bucket closer and plucked up a large piece of ice.

Already, it started to melt excessively under his touch.

“Watch,” was the one word shared, and you were meeting his eye in the reflection.

Johnny….

Your collarbone first. He drew the dripping ice along your collarbone on your right, first. Every drop cascading down the curves of your breast and just barely missing your nipple. His hand twitched on your throat as your entire body tensed. Lower. You clenched around him as he brought the sliver of ice lower. Lower. Lower….

He picked up a new piece and wasted no time swirling it around your nipple.

Damn it.

You pressed your head back and fought the sharp whine trying to leave. He didn't need to shush you again–the sound was already subdued as he continued the slow circles. It would've been too close to handle if his fingers weren't brushed against you. Keeping warm what the ice chilled, making every touch a contrasting sensation almost too much to bear. The time he'd alternated between circling your clit with some ice and sucking it into his mouth had been a torture you still dreamt of.

Speaking of….

You shivered in his grasp as he went through piece after piece. Your bra was damp and your nipples were so sensitive, just a brush of his thumbs over them when he finished had you falling forward. He kept you upright, though. Upright, his hand was light enough on your throat not to leave a mark when you did eventually have to stand out there and watch the photoshoot. His hips still didn’t move. His cock twitched, yes, but nothing more. It just burned inside of you, leaking steadily, making you do the exact same.

“Do you wanna cum?” he asked, nipping at the shell of your ear.

A barely-cold hand slid lower, gripping the inside of your thigh and pulling your leg up. Up and up and up until your knee rested on the edge of the table.

“Yes.”

He knew you did. He knew.

“Like this, then.”

The ice rustled. Oh, Jesus, Johnny. His grip on your throat left, and he had you angling yourself anew. Arching your back and bringing your hips back, one knee still on the table, both hands reaching around for you. Your cunt.

Your clit.

He parted you, his breath fanning the back of your shoulder where your blouse came back, hips still unmoving, and you clenched. Anticipation shot through you with a slow ache that had your thighs shaking. It was going to be good. It was going to be so good. And you couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move, really. Couldn’t–

Ice with just a little brush of his fingers passed over your clit.

Oh.

Your head hung, and everything tightened into a painful pleasure. Again. Another slow pass, and you were already so sensitive from earlier…. You shuddered and clenched. Another. A circle. A slow, dripping circle of hot, then cold–damn him. You wanted to move your hips, wanted him to fuck you on that stupid table or…or take you over to the couch, let you shove your face into the pillow, and just ride it out hard and rough. But this?

His hips didn’t even so much as shift.

Faster. When the ice melted and he grabbed the next piece, he came to you faster. A puddle formed on the table, and you tried not to stare at every drop joining it as he rubbed your clit. Aching, throbbing, begging for just a little more, a little less. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. With him inside of you….

Oh, no. Nevermind.

He pinched a nipple and tweaked it. It was enough. It was perfect. You fluttered around him, and he beamed. His breathing got quicker, his rhythm on your clit stayed the same, but he rolled your nipple again and pinched it harder. Oh, oh, oh–

You chewed your bottom lip to keep from making a single sound.

Your toes curled in your heels.

Pleasure dripped and clamped inside of you as you clamped around him. Another piece of ice was grabbed, and he let that and only that touch you in longer intervals. Rubbing, circling, rubbing, and then pressing before a pass of his finger had your thighs shaking.

“Johnny,” you cracked out on a barely controlled whisper.

“Come on. Let me feel you,” he returned with a grunt. “Cum. Right now.”

Pleasure rocketed so hard it bordered on pain. It was there. Right there at your fingertips. Pleasure coated in snow already melting from burning flames. You fluttered around him again as the waves started to come quicker. Harder. Your entire body trembled, and you arched your back to push his cock as deep inside of you as you could get. Taking, taking, taking, a tear slipping down your cheek–

A loud bang slammed against the door and rocked it against its hinges. A thunderous sound that made not just you, but Johnny jump, and your yelp was almost not a yelp. Ice fell to the floor as he encased you with himself, slamming one hand over your mouth as the other still worked your clit.

“Johnny, need you in five!” someone shouted through the door.

Another tear slipped down as the pleasure strangled you so hard you choked. Johnny buried his face against the side of your head, holding you steady, still not moving his hips, but his fingers pushed you as high as that climax would take you.

“Yup,” he shouted. You gushed over his cock. “Got it.”

“Great!”

Another smack to the door, and they were–presumably gone.

You dripped down his cock as you gradually relaxed, cunt still contracting with lingering waves of your orgasm. Thighs still twitching, body still shaking. Adrenaline still pumping.

You pulled his hand down.

“Oh my god, Johnny,” you breathed. That was…closer than you’d ever come to getting caught.

“Whoops. Definitely thought we had more time.” A lingering kiss went to your temple. “I wanted one more out of you, too. Damn.” He shifted back just a little, his cock dragging inside of you. Your eyes were already shut, but they fluttered. Oh. “I think five minutes is enough time, right? Probably?”

He slowly pushed back in with a snap of his hips just at the end to slam in deep. You gasped, clawing at the pieces of him that you could get.

Yeah, yeah, five minutes was enough. It was definitely enough. It was–

“Eh, maybe not.”

Empty.

Your feet touched the ground as Johnny helped you down, and you stood there, leaning against the table, hands planted firmly–just empty. Dripping, clenching, aching, and empty. A towel from the back of the makeup chair wrapped around his hand, and he poured some water on it. He wiped it between your legs as you glared at him in the mirror.

He cleaned himself up next, and you still just glared. Stared. Blinking as you struggled to catch up with the absolute nonsense he'd started and just…left short. Which, Johnny Storm didn't leave things like that, so this…this wasn't….

He pulled your skirt down and spun you. His pants were done up, belt buckled, shirt flattened out. He'd get the outfit out there–part of the delay. Waiting for the clothing to come in. And he fixed your bra, buttoned up your shirt, all while just smiling like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t hard and aching worse than you in those well-tailored pants.

“Johnny,” you said very slowly, narrowing that glare at him.

“We should get out there.” He gave your hip a squeeze while stepping back. Wait. “Come on. Can’t keep anyone waiting on us.”

He unlocked the door. Opened the door. Stepped out backward and threw a wink your way.

“Johnny.”

You rushed after him and swore he was going to face hell later.

He still had your underwear.

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