𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗
Summary: When fate forces abilities upon you, adjustments are made to roll with the punches. It’s only when living with a lover who spontaneously combusts and yourself being an unpredictable icebox that life’s pleasures become a little bit more complicated.
Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader [wc: 4.0k]
warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut. p in v, oral (blow job + hand job), and no, no body parts are frozen or burn in this fic—that’s a different kind of story.
Quick Links: Masterlist
Someone once told you that the power you’d received was not only a gift, but an extension of something inside of you. A trait that hovered below the surface and only emerged in its truest form because of the rays.
You argued that it couldn’t have been right.
But then you thought… maybe, just maybe, you were actually a little cold. Not a stone cold bitch but close to it if a person got a little too big in their britches to make assumptions about people you loved.
Yet you didn’t feel completely like one—especially not when the warm hands of Johnny were feeling you up.
“Johnny,” you whined as the bubbling sauce on the stove fought for your attention.
His rough hands smoothed over your sides. Gently playing with the fabric of your shirt, Johnny’s fingertips slid over your skin, across your stomach to hold you tight. His lips found purchase against the column of your neck.
To breathe you in, to nip at the skin in a wish to mark you for the world. What scandal, you imagined: a beloved hero with love bites from the hot-headed heartbreaker.
“What?” He played at his innocence. “I won’t distract you.”
You huffed. “Of course not. It’s like you’re never distracting to me, at all… like ever.”
Against your neck, his smile grew wide. Johnny’s nose traced a line upwards to your ear, lingering beside it and threatening to sway you as he rocked his body from side to side.
“Never,” he whispered dramatically. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
He nipped your earlobe playfully. Your neck contracted, sending a fit of your arms trying to push him away but the effort was moot.
“Johnny,” you pressed again as the sauce’s bubble burst in the pot. The remnants of the explosion sent droplets of red across the countertop and to the spoon lodged in it.
“I’m not here remember.” His hands slowly removed themselves from your body and it was no different to you than losing a limb.
The warmth that escaped you was instant—something new and welcome upon your return to Earth. For you, the constant chill was an uphill battle when the air conditioning became too cold or the winter’s approached with warning. The frigid temperatures extenuated your problems while the heat only seemed to blossom Johnny’s.
Ying and Yang, two sides of a coin, the most obtuse of afflictions were a new river to navigate.
You didn’t think dealing with cosmic powers was what the “next step” in your relationship was going to be.
First it was setting the bed ablaze in a fit of passion. Then, it was the glass of his bedroom windows freezing over and bursting from the rapid cold. There was once an incident in the lab that left some lab coats singed and another where the sofa was defrosting for days.
A cleaner had to come into the apartment and get the wet fabric smell to disappear.
Reed and Sue didn’t have these problems. Ben… well… it was difficult to adapt to. But you and Johnny? You still tried even if it always ended in a little bit of disaster.
“I’m trying to cook here.”
Johnny moved away from you as asked and leaned up against the counter behind you. His hands spread out beside him, fingers searching for something to fiddle with as his intentions to ravish you were becoming too difficult to subdue.
“Trying, is the key word. But I appreciate the effort.”
“Hey!” You exclaimed, rightly offended by his comment. “At least I even try to cook. If it weren’t for me, we’d be starving or eating your cereal scraps when everyone is gone.”
“H.E.R.B.I.E. can also make a mean dish,” he reminded you. “And then we would have time for… other… activities.”
You looked over your shoulder at him. “Is that all you think about?”
“No.” He plastered a fake smile onto his face. “I also think of the universal hierarchy but every time I bring it up—“
“—someone always shuts you down,” you finished.
“So, yeah,” he nodded. “Right now I am thinking about how much I really, really wanna do some really, really bad things to my lovely girlfriend but she is far too busy cooking to pay attention to me.”
“Oh…” Your voice dragged out comically. Johnny’s knuckles rapped against the counter. “You’re not getting enough attention, is that it?”
He wasn’t wrong, per se, just exaggerating. Seven months ago, everyone on the Marvel-1 was suddenly struck by the most inconvenient of special abilities when Reed piloted the ship through a cosmic storm.
It didn’t take long for the two of you to find out that Johnny, being a blazing body of fire and you, a body infused with ice, were unable to figure out a way to make the intimacy of your relationship happen without something going wrong. Yet you both tried anyway—often.
Johnny blew raspberries behind you. Your hand fiddled with the temperature. The flame on the stove shrinking as the timer on the oven was set to seventeen minutes.
“I don’t need attention, I just want your attention.”
“Awe,” you fostered. “That warms my heart, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He looked down at his feet, not budging from his spot.
With the food balancing out and calming in the kitchen, you felt the moment ascend upon you. He’s here, you’re both alone, no one to burst in on you to ruin the moment.
You pivoted in your spot. Johnny’s eyes flicked up, watching your deft fingers undoing the apron around your waist. He loved the way it pinched you; shaping your figure to show off every curve and inch he sought out. You weren’t a fabulous chef, and he didn’t want to force you to show off those skills, but he adored the look of it. Domesticity, a home you’ve built alongside of him. He knew you’d feel the same if he tried to bake you a cake… even if it’d be burnt at the end of its timer.
For two scientists, it was a wonder how you were both so bad at it.
“You know,” you started conspiratorially and the blue in his eyes seemed to illuminate. The wavelength you remained on hadn’t changed in the incident. “I think we have a little bit of time.”
No faster had the words come out of your mouth and he was across the space and attached to you in an instant. His lips fell onto yours with a start; heady and bereft of contact. The sensation was panicked for time. He couldn’t waste a second, neither could you. If you did, then maybe it would all disappear again and you’d both have to start over. Johnny would wake again with the urge to tease, you’d wade in the water of accepting it or trying it out yourself.
But a part of you was done trying. Ice be damned. You loved Johnny and fuck, if you wanted to blow him or let him rail you to the goddamn moon, the powers would have to step aside.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails raking the base of his skull where his hair laid short. The thrill of your touch sent shockwaves through his system. It alerted every sense, igniting a plume of heat where he needed, missed, you the most.
The sweats he wore gave everything away. The sloppiness of your kiss paved way to distraction. Johnny’s blood rushed to his cock like a tidal wave. The cotton fabric tightened and looked to him to relieve it with a tug. With each break of your kiss, you moved closer to feel his excitement grow.
The mere thought of you wanting to feel him getting hard was enough for him to get there.
“Going well so far,” Johnny murmured between kisses.
Don’t jinx it. God, please don’t jinx it.
You glanced back at the timer. Ten minutes.
“I think we’ve got time for one thing.”
Looking back, Johnny couldn’t refuse the doe-eyed plea you gave him. He hated not pleasing you first. A part of him wanted to object out of clear morals—it wasn’t how your relationship had ever functioned, it was bordering on something new. However, everything was new now.
It had taken four months to return to Earth after the storm and now, three months of being home with the powers has been all about saving the world, brand deals, and being the perfect “hero.”
“Sweetheart,” Johnny began but you shushed him with a single finger. Those nails ran across his chest, soothing the realities of what dangers may arise between you both.
“Let me,” you begged. “I like it, I do. I want you to feel good too.”
“And you? You know I can’t leave you like that.”
“There will be other times. Just let me blow you and then we can have dinner.”
Johnny’s head tilted backwards in disbelief of your brashness. When it returned upright, his hands cupped your face carefully. He held you as if you were made of glass. The glint was unmistakable in his eyes. They shone so brightly, big and enraptured.
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“I don’t know,” you joked, smile too big to conceal. “I think it was your nerdy charm but you’re pretty cute too.”
He planted a kiss softly on your lips before the music behind your eyes changed the melody of your intent.
Your lips pursed. His eyes flickered to them as his own remained reddened and bruised from the sear of your kisses. You lifted one hand, its fingertips, to your lips and let the saliva gather into your palm. It slid quickly, rushing you to act as you cupped it expertly and brought your hand to the soft elastic band of his pants.
Fuck, Johnny thought, you’ve ruined him for anyone else.
Your wet fingers brushed the light spattering of pubic hair before molding along the curve of his dick. He was so fucking hard. With your spit, your hand glided along to the tip. Johnny was leaking and he’d barely been touched for a few moments out of sheer desire for you.
It mixed with your spit well. The pulse of your hand rocked his shaft with even strokes; both hands occasionally joining in knowledge of his preferences. Johnny didn’t mind you stroking him tightly, he enjoyed the pressure and release when your hand let go.
“You see why I can’t live without you that long?” He laughed in awkwardness.
You eyed him, watching as his cheeks grew red and the stuttering in his chest became pronounced.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve barely made it past third base.”
With the length of him in your wetted palm, you stroked him from base to tip and over again. Your palm gave way, thumb pressing into the tip lightly as it worked over and set rhythm. His slit leaked in loose dribbles; collected by your thumb to be smeared down his shaft.
Johnny’s jaw tensed. The strain from his teeth bore down on his jaw while he held his breath in his chest for too long. He breathed out loudly, groaning when he touched his face to yours. Feeling him hot and heavy in your palm buckled your knees. A frenzied need abandoned your stoic nature and sent you to the floor in front of him.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve barely made it past third base.”
With the length of him in your wetted palm, you stroked him from base to tip and over again. Your palm gave way, thumb pressing into the tip lightly as it worked over and set rhythm. His slit leaked in loose dribbles; collected by your thumb to be smeared down his shaft.
Johnny’s jaw tensed. The strain from his teeth bore down on his jaw while he held his breath in his chest for too long. He breathed out loudly, groaning when he touched his face to yours. Feeling him hot and heavy in your palm buckled your knees. A frenzied need abandoned your stoic nature and sent you to the floor in front of him.
Johnny’s hands looked for somewhere to sit and cradled the crown of your head gingerly. You pulled his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out at the tug. He was harder than he had ever been in his life. He could barely stand the pressure of his blood concentrated there. Johnny had never needed you this badly before. At the return of your hand, your hands curled around him while your lips assisted beside them.
You licked one long stripe up the base of his cock and he saw stars. Galaxies upon galaxies floating in his eyes as you orbit his pupil with a self-satisfied grin plastered into his vision. Your lips parted, taking him into your mouth far enough to make the spit that gathered there to escape the sides. And then you looked up at him.
He swore his heart stopped beating. Yours was going a million miles an hour while his was going a billion.
“Holy shit,” he moaned with a chuckle. “I love you so fucking much.”
You take him a bit deeper and the sentiment grows. Johnny doesn’t press on your head enough to guide you, allowing you to take the wheel of his pleasure and enjoy what you were providing. You pulled back from him, releasing him with a lewd “pop” before stroking him with what was left behind.
“I love you,” you replied.
“I don’t think you realize how much, sweetheart. You’ve got my heart on another planet right now.”
“Well now you know what you do to me, lover boy.”
“Lover boy,” he scoffed. “I’m not lovin’ anyone but you from here on out.”
“Good,” your lips returned to the tip of his cock so full of blood it was almost purple with a bruise. “But you’re my lover boy so I can call you that forever.”
“Sure thing, baby.”
You were smug with reward as the seconds inched further to his orgasm because it meant that you’d done it. Finally. A god-forsaken time where neither of your powers had gotten in the way of finishing in intimacy.
Johnny’s hands remained on your head, barely restraining himself from pushing you down further on his dick. His hips, however, shallowly thrust every time you’d take him back into your mouth. The sounds you made forced the blush to return to his cheeks. Each pass you’d take closed in on the back of your throat. Tongue flat, inviting his straining cock to the very last inch you could take.
You choked but didn’t let up. His hands attempted to lift you up, give you that relief but you swatted them away as you held yourself there. Your nose could smell the scent of his soap—he’d just showered for you—and the light trace of your spit. The salty traces of him on your tongue was intoxicating.
You’d all but forgotten about the food in the oven and on the stove.
“I’m not gonna last very long if you keep takin’ me that deep.”
With a start, you gagged at your will to speak. Johnny grinned from ear to ear.
“You did not just try to talk with my dick in your mouth.”
You kept up pumping him with your fist as your mouth freed itself. “Laugh about it all you want but I still have your dick in my hand.”
“And it feels great, keep it up.”
“Oh you…” your eyes narrowed, challenging him from below as his hands gently caressed your head in appreciation.
“But you know what?”
“What?”
“I really don’t want to cum down your throat.”
“Charming,” you flatlined. Your hand slowed its pace and all he could think about was getting your pants off and fucking you silly against the kitchen counter.
Everything was perfect. It was a little sloppy, unprepared, and back to the way it was. This felt normal and simple. It felt like seven months ago when you whispered sweet nothings into each others ears the night before you left Earth because of the “just in case” scenario of never returning.
Johnny’s hand tightened around yours as he helped you to your feet. You staggered, losing your footing with a laugh while he held onto you. His hands shifted along the sides of your waist to rub you up and down in comfort.
“We’ve got this,” he affirmed with a nod. His blue eyes searching your weary ones as the premise of a future finally moving forward was promising.
“Yeah,” you agreed. “We’ve got this.”
Reaching one hand to your face, his thumb traced your bottom lip in remembrance. He envisioned the night before you left—every breath and hesitant mark made to forgive any wrong doings and assurance that there was something to return to after a risky, experimental chance.
“We might be different now but we will always be the same,” he admitted honestly. “How I feel about you has never changed.”
Your eyes were glassy. “I love you so much.”
“You have no idea,” Johnny whispered.
He kissed you again with that promise. The pull of his fire, that of your ice, were nothing against the foundations of what made you stand.
Johnny guided you against the counter, peppering kisses along your shoulder blades when the counter pressed up upon your waist. It dug into you sweetly. His fingers undid the button of your pants and slid them, with your underwear, to your knees. His foot appeared between yours and guided your legs a little further apart.
“This alright?” He asked tenderly. His head came to rest on your shoulder enough for you to turn and look at him. “You ready for me or…?”
“Lover boy,” you mused. “You might miss your chance if you wait so long.”
You were more than ready for him. Always were, always would be.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He grasped his cock in his hand and rubbed his length along your slit. You were wet—far more than he thought you would be but you hadn’t lied, you did enjoy pleasing him. He used what you left and what he gathered to lubricate himself. Johnny lined himself up, breathing hard as he watched your fingers clench on the edge of the counter and your head leaned against his chest.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured to you as he pushed the head of his cock into your pussy. “You’ve got me. I know you’ve got me.”
The tightness was rousing. You squeezed him in; expanding to take his girth and pushing back against him to accommodate his length. An arm wrapped around your waist for support while the other firmly planted itself on your hip. You missed loving each other like this.
“F-fuck,” you grunted. “Goddammit, Johnny.”
“Why’s it always me?” He quipped. “You’ve got the tightest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
“Charming,” you repeated as he retracted enough to keep his head inside before pushing back in. “You’re so charming.”
The stretch of his cock was delicious. Your ears caught the sound: the snap of his hips to your body, the sounds of your friction sending spasms up your spine.
“And I should say only pussy I’ll be in till the end of time.”
You nodded against his chest. “That’s more like it.”
Johnny hummed, refocusing to the motions. His cock was deep, kissing your cervix with pleasure as the simple thought of Johnny watching himself disappear from below your ass was making you wet. You started to imagine how much dirtier it could get for you.
What if there was a mirror? You could watch him rail you from behind and grope your breasts with his large palms. Dinner was almost done. Handcuffs would be a pleasant surprise. Johnny, tied to the bed and zoned in on you bouncing on his dick without an option to touch you. Dinner was done.
Johnny’s cock drove into you relentlessly. Never ceasing for a break, he hammered his hips into you against the countertop enough where you knew there would be a memory imprinted in hazy colors on your hips. But it would be a reminder of this success. You’d done it. Truly beat the powers. Dinner was really fucking done.
“Oh shit baby,” Johnny hissed as his hips started to falter. “What’d you need from me? What do you need?”
You could barely think of what you needed. Every inch you took from him was accelerating a path to the feeling you missed. It was building, stepping toward the sky in insurmountable numbers as his hips swirled.
“Clit,” you ordered succinctly.
Johnny’s finger flew to your bud in record speed. He always had the best luck with his middle finger, so he pressed down and made quick circles that left you stuttering.
“Faster.”
Your shoulders lurched but you didn’t finish. Both of you were almost there. You could see the light, feel it starting to peak around you when the sudden smell of rancid burning began to overtake your senses.
Dinner was burnt.
Dinner was on fire.
“J-Johnny,” you sputtered out his name yet his cock kept finding its way back inside of you. Your hand left the counter rapidly and slapped at his arm wrapped around you.
“Johnny, fuck,” you barely got out. “Dinner. The goddamn dinner.”
“Yeah,” he breathed heavy, “we’ll eat in a minute.”
“No,” you swore. “It’s on fucking fire. The dinner is on fucking fire!”
“Wha—“
Before either of you could come to a complete stop and figure it out, the fire alarm screeched throughout the apartment. Reed had reprogrammed it to sense a real fire after one or two inside incidents that you may or may not have been a part of.
“Shit!” Johnny spat.
As he went to pull out of you, the world seemed to freeze. Arriving at the speed of light, H.E.R.B.I.E. came flying from his sleeping place with its alert system blaring as loud as the fire alarm.
But H.E.R.B.I.E had eyes.
H.E.R.B.I.E had a soul.
“Oh my—“ you didn’t have time to form the full thought before your arm reached out into the robot’s direction and the wheels of its small body went rigid.
The fire alarm stopped.
H.E.R.B.I.E was silent.
And the smell of a burnt dinner now lingered in the background.
Johnny kept his hands on you as he tried to keep you titled sideways and out of the general direction of H.E.R.B.I.E even if your hand was outstretched. He was breathless; awestruck in the moment.
H.E.R.B.I.E was frozen like a brick of ice and the trail of a white, frosted over landscape appeared from the stove, to H.E.R.B.I.E, and across the hallway. The bots eyes were preserved in a state of shock—or perhaps that is what it always looked like.
Nevertheless, H.E.R.B.I.E was right there.
You’d have to erase its memory chip before the others arrived back home. It was staring right at the both of you: forever imprinted on that one spot, eyes locked in on the scene.
“You killed it,” Johnny spoke first. “I think you killed H.E.R.B.I.E.”
“I didn’t kill it!” You exclaimed too defensively. But your pants were at your ankles now and you were literally leaking onto your legs. Fuck.
“Is H.E.R.B.I.E looking at us?” His voice got lower, quieter as he looked at H.E.R.B.I.E suspiciously.
“I don’t know.” You didn’t. It was hard to tell.
Johnny nodded in assurance to himself before patting your bare waist. He stepped back, kneeling down to gather your underwear from where they combined with your pants before pulling them up one by one. It wasn’t ideal but he knew the options the two of you had: make a bigger mess of things or fix what’s happened.
Sex could wait another day.
You let him redress you. Johnny made an effort to turn you around, buttoning your pants for you and pulling your apron back down over the lower half of your body. He shoved himself back into his sweatpants and even if you could still see the outline of his arousal, Johnny didn’t press.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized out of disappointment.
“It’s not your fault.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and placed his lips on your forehead. You filled his embrace readily.
“But we did it… kind of?”
“Yeah,” he smiled proud. “We fucking did.”
A/N: Johnny is literally everything to me. S/O to @uzmacchiato for the beautiful animated dividers. If you’re a writer and looking for ways to make you work a little bit more flashy, check out their work!!
p.s. sorry for traumatizing herbie. took one for the team here.
p.p.s. all writers love to hear from readers and it’s the one thing I love more than anything. Thank you for taking the time to read this!
