Thought these pieces needed a special place in my masterlist, so here are my fics with this trope 🤍 Main Masterlist
*Mask on, fuck it, mask off (Peter Parker x reader): You’re spider-man’s closest thing to a friend since the world forgot his name…all without him ever taking the mask off. His true identity has always been a barrier between you two, but what happens when he gets hit with the pollen, and not only him, but the creature lurking inside him fixates on the only person he gets to call home?
*It’s getting hot in here: (Johnny Storm x reader): While analyzing space plants in Sue’s lab, you get infected with sex pollen. Johnny, hotshot, flirty as hell, and definitely not yours (yet) starts looking a little too good in those tight pants. You try to fight it, until you find yourself begging him to save you.
*Just one more (Clark Kent x reader): When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.
*Supersoldiers in Paris (John Walker x reader x Bucky Barnes): Retrieving vials from an abandoned Red Room facility gets you infected with sex pollen. You may have to make a stop in Paris with John and Bucky before you can get back home.
Here’s to growing the list ✨ thanks for reading <3
A fan fiction trope in which the characters are exposed to foreign substance that triggers an uncontrollable, urgent need to have sex.
pairing: civilan!fem!reader x Johnny Storm (fantastic four, first steps)
summary: a collision between you and Johnny turns into an afternoon neither of you want to forget
warnings: misogynistic attitudes (not from Johnny), can't think of anything else?
word count: 3.8k
You were used to the same routine day in, day out, being a secretary for your father's law firm.
Answer the phone every time it rings, type out everything and anything you could, deliver the men in the building their cigars and bring them plenty of coffee and baked goods to keep their spirits high. It kept them happy, and it kept you employed.
Occasionally, if you could slip in and out of the cafe and bakery quickly enough, you’d visit the pizzeria and get something for yourself but that had to come out of your wages, not your father's company card or company cash for all the other expenses.
Glancing up at the clock, you slowly folded one last invoice before carefully tucking it into the envelope you had written and stamped earlier this morning, knowing that any minute now your father's second in line, Rich, would sway out of his office, sucking on a thick cigar, ready to hand you the same old list of strong coffees and sickly, sticky doughnuts.
“I don’t need a list,” you reminded him, getting up from your desk, “you all get the same thing every time.”
Rich stared down at you, blowing the smoke away from your face and towards the wall, “Well, you never know, one of us just might change our minds, throw a spanner into the works and all, keep you on your feet.”
You took the list from him anyway and double checked it to find that it was the same as always, and were careful not to crease the fine lined paper as you reached for your purse and coat.
“Anything else you might’ve forgotten to add?” You asked, slipping on your coat and turning around to face the elevator, tucking the paper into your pocket.
He hummed and tilted his head, his eyes trailing from the top of your spine to your backside, which made your skin crawl.
“Not today,” Rich sighed, looking away. “Now be quick. We’ve all got a meeting and need a full belly beforehand.”
“Don’t stand there waiting, Rich. I assure you, the goods will be hand delivered.” You spoke up, walking towards the elevator, slipping inside as the cleaner came out.
Stepping out into the afternoon sun felt gentle across your face, but still the snow on the sidewalk piled up and the cool air bit your cheeks and nose, making you snuggle into your scarf. You walked a little slower and more carefully; you had slipped before and that’s when you weren’t rushing.
“Cafe first,” you murmured the same Monday to Friday mantra to yourself, “the coffee always stays hot, but the doughnuts go cold quicker if I go to the bakery first.”
As you turned the corner, you went up into the air before you had time to move out of the way or realise someone was coming too fast. You were expecting a harsh blow against the cold and icy slabs of ground and squeezed your eyes shut but instead you were engulfed in what could only be described as a firm warm blanket.
“Oh! Jeez! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. I’m so glad I caught you!”
The voice was rightfully panicked but rather charming, you recognised it but you couldn’t figure out where, not until you forced yourself to open your eyes and look at the man holding you in the middle of the street.
His sparkly blue eyes stopped your swearing and outburst dead in your throat, the harsh insults immediately melting. His short blonde hair had only just been combed, yet it still looked a little messy, probably from the speed at which he crashed into you.
Your eyes trailed from his hair and face and locked onto his uniform, the one you’d seen a hundred times on your TV, and on the action figures all over town.
Johnny Storm.
The Human Torch.
He’s only one of the fucking Fantastic Four.
Johnny couldn’t look away from your eyes, nose, or lips.
He became entranced by you and how you felt fitting so perfectly in his arms, and he couldn’t stop himself from going through every tactic he could think of to have you stay in his arms. Part of him hoped you were slightly dizzy or a little concussed, that way he had an excuse to stay with you for the rest of the day in the ER whilst you got checked out and eventually cleared into the late evening.
You didn’t know what to say first.
“I-I was just going to the cafe,” you said a little quick, quite nervously, “I need to pick up some coffee for the people I work for.”
“A coffee round?” he still didn’t let you go but slowly placed you on your feet, “why don’t I give you a hand? You know, to make up for crashing into you.”
Usually you’d decline and thank whoever it was for their offer, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so with Johnny and having an extra pair of hands when you were a little unsteady on your feet would be of great use.
“I’d love that,” you allowed yourself to beam at him, “I pick up their coffees first, then their doughnuts,”
“And for yourself?”
Your eyes widened a little and you could feel your cheeks getting warm over Johnny prioritising you, “Well, I uh, if I have time, I usually like to grab a pizza but I don’t always have time for that.”
Johnny linked your arm in his, eagerly pulling you towards the pizzeria, “Looks like the pizza is on me too, darling.”
“I’m flattered, really! It’s just,” You tried to stop yourself from stuttering, “I need to be back in the office within the next fifteen or the guys,” you cleared your throat, “the gentlemen I work for will be very angry with me.”
Johnny slowed down and gave you a suspicious glance, “I’m the human torch, I can keep their little coffees and baked goods at the perfect temperature long enough for you to enjoy lunch with me.”
Professionally, you should’ve said no and again, thanked him for the offer.
You knew the men at the office and your father would be furious if you were late, evenmoreso for getting yourself wrapped up publicly with a superhero.
You were a professional.
You worked, went home and helped your mother with housework and cooking and your younger siblings with their homework until a suitable man your father approved of swept you off your feet.
This will never happen to you again.
What are the chances of you, of all people, to have this opportunity to go out to lunch with Johnny Storm?!
“Alright Johnny,” you smiled at him, “but I’ve got to be back in that building in fifteen minutes, no later.”
Johnny always landed the first and second dates, he was a charmer, but after a dry spell of constant rejection, he felt a little rusty and rather surprised that you agreed.
“But,” you raised your eyebrows, “I need to get the coffee first, then the doughnuts, once I’ve got those we can get pizza.”
I like a woman who can keep me in line and tell me what to do.
Johnny smiled at you, “Alright, to the cafe it is - the one with the red door?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, “How’d you know?”
“My sister loves that place.”
The cafe was a little busier than usual and the whispers of excited fans tickled the back of your ears as you repeated the order of coffees in your head before you reached the front of the queue.
Everyone knew the Fantastic Four. Everyone including your father, who wasn’t a fan of superheroes.
In the business of the cafe, you were desperately hoping that no one who knew your father would recognise you and report back to him because to him… being seen with a hero was worse than being with the villain.
You stuffed your hand into your purse, ready to pull out the money to pay for the coffees when Johnny stopped you, “I got it,” he said, opening his wallet.
“No, really, please don’t Johnny. The pizza will be enough!” You protested quiet enough so no one could overhear.
“Let me be a gentleman.”
When Johnny tried to hand the cashier the money, he was met with a frantic dismissal, “We can’t have you pay!” The Cashier’s cheeks went red and he cleared his throat, “It’s on the house, Johnny Storm.”
The barista was quick with the drinks, almost breaking out into a sweat out of fear she’d spill a single drop of milk on the floor or add sugar to the sugar free cup.
“This what being with a hero gets you,” Johnny flashed you a wink with pursed lips, “Well,” he turned his attention to the cashier, “thank you and have a good day.”
He picked up the coffees that were packed tightly into the cardboard holder and continued toward the door, “So, which bakery?” he asked before stopping himself, “Wait! Don’t tell me!”
You licked your lips and toyed with the eager grin desperate to stretch across your face.
Johnny’s excitement and energy felt like a rush of adrenaline, you were so used to the miserable men at the office and the drab four walls of your bedroom that you forgot happy people existed, and that you could be happy too.
“Go on then,” You giggled, swiftly following him out of the Cafe.
Johnny hummed, you stared down at his boots and noticed the snow and ice melting beneath his feet, leaving behind tiny transparent puddles.
“They have a Kitsch painting of a siamese cat in the window,” He spoke up with a little hop in his step and a twinkle in his eye.
Your eyes widened and your eyebrows shot up, “You really do know the best spots in town!”
Johnny couldn’t contain his excitement and grunted with satisfaction, “Knew it! That’s the bakery you go to, of course it is!”
“The cat painting though…” you trailed off, the window blowing through your hair.
“It’s unnerving, isn’t it?”
You burst out into a light laugh and nodded, “That’s the best way to describe it.”
Johnny always noticed and loved the attention he got from people in the street, but as the men of Manhattan nodded and tipped their hats at him, and the jealous young women were quick to blush and offer a tiny wave before they noticed you on his arm and gave a quick glare, for the first time in his life, Johnny didn’t notice them; his attention remained solely on you.
He took in the shape of your nose, the undertones in your complexion, and the softness of your lips; each and every detail that made up your whole being was perfect to him.
He pointed out the cat painting to you and held the bakery door open for you, the sweet smell from the gooey pretzel dough made your mouth pool with saliva.
“You didn’t need to offer,” you spoke up softly, “I’ve got an allowance from the men at the office… I mean, my father is my boss.”
“Well, if you’re insisting on using the allowance on these… what are you getting again?”
“Doughnuts,” you reminded him, laughing lightly.
“Doughnuts, right, well if you’re insisting on using your allowance to buy them, then I have to treat you to pizza. I don’t care if they say it’s on the house, if my girl wants pizza, she’s getting pizza.”
My Girl.
The tips of your ears began to burn at such words and Johnny’s eagerness, if you hadn’t fallen for him already then this would be it. Hook, line, and sinker.
The prickling heat travelled from your ears and creeped across your face and flushed your cheeks.
Did he mean to say that? Is he aware of what he said? Maybe he forgot this isn’t a regular meet and greet with his fans…
You stopped yourself from spiralling when you realised that you could certainly get used to being his girl. If your father allowed it.
Johnny realised what he’d said out loud and as his lips parted again for a smooth save when you didn’t respond.
That smooth save never came; you were already nervously reading out the long list of doughnuts and counting out your money from your purse.
Johnny carefully gave you a hand with the individual bags of doughnuts, careful not to send the coffees spilling to the floor.
She’s still here, man. She’s not trying to run away.
“Please let me carry something, Johnny.” You said softly.
“Absoluetly not,” He was quick to reply, his tone still charming, “I don’t want you carrying anything, not when we’re going to get you some pizza that you can sit down and enjoy without rushing off.”
You checked your wrist watch, “We’ve got ten minutes, I can’t be late.”
Approaching the pizzeria engulfed you with a strong surge of panic that swept you off your feet.
Part of you felt as if Johnny was just being kind, that this was just part of an act to keep his reputation on track.You were slowly starting to understand that you’d be devastated if you didn’t see him up close and personal again.
Your eyes carefully watched him balance the coffee and doughnuts, the sight made you feel bad that Johnny kept refusing your help to carry the coffee and doughnuts, so you made sure to open the door for him when you first entered the pizzeria.
Johnny clicked his tongue and pointed with his index finger when he noticed a spacious and unoccupied booth towards the back.
“Johnny Storm!” The waiter beamed with his eyes widening, “H-How can I help today? We can get you a pizza to go or-”
“I’d like that quiet booth in the back, young man!” Johnny began to smile, giving a friendly tap to the waiter's arms before turning his focus to you, his eyes taking in every detail of your face again, “And whatever this beautiful girl wants.” He hesitated for a moment, “I’ll be paying for her meal, I don’t want anything on the house.”
The waiter nodded and cleared his throat, and bowed before escorting the two of you towards the booth he had picked out. The pizzeria wasn’t busy and the jazz music and dim lighting made you drop your shoulders slightly, you were thankful you wouldn’t be under the spotlight whilst you were dining with a hero.
You carefully removed your coat before sitting and scooting down the booth, placing your coat and purse next to you. Johnny was whispering to the waiter and slipped a wad of cash into his hands before carefully placing the coffees and doughnuts down on the table, out of the way in the far corner.
Once he sat down, Johnny gave you the menu, not bothering to look at his own, his eyes still glued on you with a non threatening intensity but sheer adoration.
“So,” he smiled up at you, propping his elbows up on the table and leaning forward, “tell me everything about you, I want to know it all!”
You tried your best to maintain eye contact, although every time your eyes met his, your stomach fluttered. You weren’t used to such a sensation.
“I work for my father as a secretary for his law firm, after work I go home and help my mother with everything else and raise my younger siblings. I don’t really do anything else aside from…”
Johnny tilted his head, “From?”
You swallowed hard, “I keep a journal, I write everything in there including my dreams. I include the occasional doodles…” you sighed and shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I want to go to the movies or out dancing but I’m not allowed. My father doesn’t think a single lady should be going out incase she…”
“Gets picked up by some charmer?” Johnny raised an eyebrow.
The waiter interrupted, placing a slim vase in the middle of the table with four fresh cut pink roses spilling out, “Are we ready to order?”
Your breath catches at the petals. "Johnny, you didn't have to do that."
"I absolutely did," he insists softly, gesturing for you to order.
The pizzas were cooked perfectly and the two of you spent each minute carefully chewing your food in between getting to know one another better through random questions that felt perfect for a speed date. Sure you knew of the human torch from seeing him on your television and on billboards, but having him sit inches in front of you and sharing smiles was something else; he was much smarter and wittier than anyone gave him credit for.
His opening up over the realities of fame made you feel sorry for him as he went into the details of never having privacy and being subjected to constant rumours and smear campaigns that began to wear thin on him.
You were thankful he didn’t hold back, and felt honoured to get to know him so personally in a way many young girls dreamed of.
Catching a look at the oval clock on the wall made your heart drop, “Oh my god,” you murmured, “I-I, Johnny, I’ve got to go back, I’m going to be late!”
Johnny got carried away in the moment, completely forgetting with you that you were out on a job errand. His smile faded but he was quick to stand, helping you slip your coat on and handing you the four roses before picking up the coffees and doughnuts, immediately warming them.
“How long do you have?” He asked, escorting you out of the pizzeria.
“Five minutes, the building is only a couple of blocks away,” you began to panic.
You were always early, never on time or late.
“We’ll make it but I know I’ll be in the hot seat when I head in there.”
Johnny increased his speed, trying his best to keep up with you as you stormed down the street, your heels scuffing against the paving slabs, trying your best not to slip over again.
“Why don’t I come up, explain to your father that there was an accident and-”
You shook your head, shooting him a warning look “Oh no no no, absolutely not, Johnny!”
You waited for the cars to stop and for the traffic lights to turn green, continuing to get closer and closer to the building.
“You don’t just go up to my father and try to explain anything!” You laughed lightly, your fingers stroking the dewy stems, “He’ll eat you alive, Johnny!”
Johnny’s mouth began to dry and his throat tightened slightly at the thought of an older and scarier man disapproving of him on the first day, let alone months down the line. As your work building came into view, he read the plaque on the wall, recognising the names but unsure of why.
You stopped outside of the large swinging doors, the golden handles gleaming in the afternoon light.
Thank him. You might not get to see him again.
“I can’t thank you enough for today, for everything,” you huffed, out of breath with sweat breaking out across your forehead.
“Oh, don’t mention it.” Johnny didn’t know what to do, he thought about trying to persuade you to let him into the building or to lean in and kiss you.
“I can take the coffees and doughnuts now, Johnny.” You replied softly, nodding at the cups.
“Right, the coffee and doughnuts, yep!” He flashed a nervous smile, handing you the goods.
You were careful not to crush the petals or bend the stems, carefully tucking the bags of doughnuts under your arm and gently holding the coffees in their cardboard holder.
“Well, goodbye Johnny-”
Johnny’s heart skipped a beat.
You stumbled into him on a day he almost lost to sleeping in, and now here you were, about to turn your back and possibly never see him again; if this really was it, Johnny had to take a chance.
Before you could turn on your heel, he reached out, his hand lightly resting on your arm.
“Wait!” He squeaked, “C-Could I see you again sometime? Maybe take you to one of those dances you’ve been missing out on?”
He wants to see me again. He remembered the dances.
You looked over your shoulder at him and found yourself melting over his wide doe eyes all over again. How could you reject him?
Nodding your head, a small smile stretched across your face, “Alright then, Human Torch. Thursday evening. Six o’clock outside the pizzeria, don’t be late.”
Thursday. Six o’clock. She wants to see me again.
“Thursday, right. Of course!” Johnny steps back, “I’ll see you then!”
Turning away from him, you finally walk into your building, hurrying toward the elevator, already nervous about the creeping redness across your cheeks and down your neck.
Thanks to Johnny, everything remained piping hot, concealing the truth of your afternoon.
"You’re one minute late,” Rich hummed, sucking on his cigar, “Get lost?”
The other men in their beige suits started to pile out of their offices and spilled around your desk, you were quick to clear your throat and bow your head.
"My apologies, gentlemen," your tone was professional as you handed over their greasy paper bags and cardboard coffee carrier. "The line at the counter was exceptionally long today, I think there are other men from other cities here for business trips."
Rich took a bite out of his doughnut, ready to complain about the texture but his eyes dropped to four vibrant pink roses cradled in your arm.
"And where did those come from?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together, "You certainly didn't buy those at the corner diner. Who's been distracting you on firm time?"
The flowers. Shit. The flowers.
"They're just flowers," you replied smoothly, stepping toward your typing desk. "A personal purchase with my wages.”
"A personal purchase?" He scoffed, "No woman buys roses for herself, who’s the lucky guy? Is it that young lad from the market?"
Before you can dodge the interrogation, a throat cleared behind you.
"Is there a reason my senior staff is standing around the lobby like a bunch of gossiping housewives?" Your father glared, signalling the men to return to their desks.
“Just making sure your daughter understands the importance of sticking to her schedule. Though, it seems she had a very romantic reason for being a little late, returning with roses isn’t her usual routine.” Rich smirked before walking away, sipping his coffee.
Your heart drummed in your ears and you could feel the colour draining from your face as you placed the roses down on your desk next to the ashtray and sat down in your seat, slowly resetting your typewriter.
“Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” Your father asked, his eyes examining the stems for any handwritten notes.
“No, no, nothing like that,” You replied softly, your finger hovering over the letter H.
Your father didn’t like superheroes. He didn’t like vigilantes. He didn’t like the good guys in the comics and TV specials; he certainly wouldn’t like Johnny Storm, the human torch.
“Next time, don’t be late or I’ll reduce your pay. Got it?”
