Pink Place

Johnny chuckled, a warm sound that always pleasantly filled whatever room he was in. He sat up, tossing the book towards his backpack and jacket where they sat on the floor nearby before crawling over and kneeling by the edge of your bed where you’d planted yourself.

"You’ll be fine. You’re smarter than half the professors here - easy. And besides," he grinned, that knee-weakening, lopsided grin that had gotten him out of trouble - and into girls' beds - more times than either of you could count, "who else is going to keep me grounded when I’m floating in zero-G?"

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up on your hand to look at him in the dim light. Most of the time you tried not to think about it, but he truly was infuriatingly handsome. Even in a faded NASA t-shirt and grey sweatpants. It was unfair, really. You’d been best friends since you were kids - from neighborhood antics to being practically attached at the hip through elementary, high school, and now college. You’d watched him grow from a scrappy kid into a young man who could charm the pants off anyone. Usually literally.

“You’ll find someone else to help with all that.” You replied, shrugging his words off. “Pretty sure you could put out applications for your future person-in-the-chair role and have the position filled by eight am tomorrow.”

Johnny gave you a deeply dramatic frown. “Find someone else?”

“Pretty sure that’s what I said.”

“But you’re the only one I trust to help me out in the deep recesses of space,” he sat back on his heels, cocking his head slightly.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Surely other people would be way better suited to that sort of position.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re probably well-suited to a lot of positions.” He grinned cheekily, eyes sparkling with mischief. “More than you’d give yourself credit for.”

The heat of a blush crept up your neck at what he was implying, and you glanced away to focus on a loose thread on your comforter. “Sure, Johnny.”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, sweetheart.” He laughed, apparently semi-oblivious to your discomfort. “I’ve seen how guys look at you.”

“They don’t look at me.”

“Yeah, they do. I’ve seen it. And from what I’ve overheard, they’d like to do a lot more than just look.”

Frustration bubbled inside your chest, creating an uncomfortable pressure just beneath your ribcage. If any guys want to sleep with you, they hadn’t really made a move in the several years you’d been at college. Or if they had, you’d been quick to shut them down and avoid speaking to them further. At first, it was because none of their advances felt right - or like something that would be a long-term arrangement. Not that there was anything wrong with hookups or one-night-stands - in fact, you were a bit jealous of people like Johnny who could enjoy them with ease - but they just weren’t what you were looking for.

Plus, if you were physically involved with someone - even if it was just making out and some light groping - you’d already come to realize that the only way you were able to fully relax and enjoy it was if you trusted the other person. The handful of drunken make out sessions you’d had in the last few years only felt okay if you’d actually built up a rapport with the guy. If you hadn’t, the whole exchange just felt… Empty. Unsatisfying.

“Well, I’m not really looking for the same things they are.”

“Then what are you looking for? Maybe I can help. I know a lot of -“

“Most of them are just looking for a casual fling, Johnny.” You interrupted. “And that’s not really what I want.”

“Yeah, and that’s okay,” he thought for a moment. “I know a few guys that aren’t total commitment-phobes. I could set you up.”

“Thanks, Johnny. But I’m not a charity case.”

“It’s not charity - I just want you to be happy and have some fun. Safely and consensually, of course.”

“Hey, I have fun.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. When was the last time you had fun with someone? And how much fun did you actually have?”

“I don’t see how my sex life affects you.”

“I’m just trying to make sure my best friend has a good time during her wild and carefree years.” Johnny grinned, but the action made more heat rise to your face. It felt as though your entire body was on fire under his gaze, and that you’d do something stupid if he didn’t get out of your dorm immediately. “So when was it? Bonus points if you tell me who.”

Silence engulfed the room as he waited for your answer. You could lie to him - something you never did - and say you’d had a few random flings just so he’d shut up about it. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, and a small part of you was deathly afraid that he’d judge you. After all, he’d been with plenty of women and - if your inadvertent eavesdropping was to be believed - was very good at what he did.

You exhaled, still avoiding his stare. "Can I tell you something without you making it a whole thing?"

Johnny’s expression softened instantly. The playfulness slid out of his posture, replaced by a focused intensity. He climbed up next to you on the bed, making the room feel far smaller. "Of course. Always. You know that."

You took a deep breath, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest from how fast it was beating against your ribcage. Breathe. This was Johnny, for goodness sake. The one person who knew everything from your fears and dreams to your coffee order by heart. But this felt different. This conversation felt like exposing a raw nerve.

"I..." You paused, licking your suddenly-dry lips. "I’ve never… I haven’t done that yet. Had sex."

The silence that followed wasn't the comfortable, companionable quiet you were used to. It was heavy. Johnny stared at you, his eyebrows drawing together slightly as he processed your words. His eyes had widened, and for a terrifying second, you thought he might laugh. Or worse, look at you with pity.

Then, he let out a breath, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Wow. Okay. I honestly... I didn't really expect that."

"It’s not like, a religious thing or whatever," you rushed to explain, feeling the need to justify your actions. "It just never… The guys I dated never felt right. Or the timing was off or something -“

“Hey, breathe -“

But you were rambling, and there was no amount of soothing words Johnny could say to stop you. “And now suddenly I’m a senior and it’s like I’m carrying around a giant neon sign that says 'inexperienced loser', and -“

"Hey," Johnny snapped gently, shifting closer so his knee knocking lightly against yours. "Stop right there. You’re not a loser. You’re selective. There’s a difference. You just decided you respect yourself enough not to just hand it over to the first frat guy who buys you a beer. That’s cool. And even if you did do stuff like that, it’d still be good because it’s your choice.”

His reassurance helped a tiny bit, but it didn't quell the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You looked at him, and for a moment it felt like you were truly seeing him. Johnny Storm was your best friend. Always had been. He was safe, understanding, and the two of you knew one another better than anyone else. In that moment, you realized that he was the only person in the world you trusted implicitly.

"You’ve been with a lot of women.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation, but a statement of fact.

Johnny hesitated, a little flustered. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze for a split second before looking back at you with a resigned sigh. "Yeah. I mean... I'm not keeping a tally or anything, but... Yeah. A fair number, I guess.”

"Right," you whispered, dropping your eyes to your duvet again. The confirmation of your differing levels of experience hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t as though he’d make fun of you for it or anything, but something about the conversation made you feel foolish. "Of course."

"Hey," he said again, softer this time. He reached out, his fingers hovering near your knee before he seemed to think better of it and pulled back. "The fact that you haven’t done that yet doesn't say anything about you, you know that, right? Everyone moves at their own pace."

"I know," you said, your voice sounding small. "But it just makes the whole thing feel bigger. I’m so terrified, Johnny. I’ve built sex up so much in my head that I feel… I dunno, paralyzed? I guess? Like what if I finally do it and it’s awful? What if it’s weird and uncomfortable and I’m terrible at it because I waited way too long?"

The panic was rising, bubbling up in your chest, and you were unable to stomp it down. You looked at him, desperate for him to understand your deep-seated fears. Even if he didn’t fully get it - he was still the one constant in your life. The singular person who made you feel safe even when the world was spinning out of control.

“It’s -“

"I don't think I can do it with a stranger," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Huh?”

“I-I think I need it to be someone I trust. Someone who knows me. Someone safe, who..." You trailed off, eyes finally locking with his. "Someone like you."

Johnny froze. The playfulness and calm demeanor evaporated, replaced by an unreadable intensity. He didn't move, didn't blink. Fuck.

"Johnny?" you whispered, heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.

“Y-yeah?” The word came out rough and raspy, as if he’d been in the desert for a week.

"Would you... Would you have sex with me?"

Johnny blinked, the silence stretching thin and taut between you. Whatever strange expression he’d been sporting the moment before was replaced by a look of genuine bewilderment. He sat a bit, running a hand through his hair again - a nervous tic you’d seen a hundred times, but usually only before a huge test. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

“Shit, Johnny.” You scooted backwards, putting a bit of space between the two of you. “This is so stupid. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Forget I said anything, I -“

"Wait," he said, his voice pitching up slightly. "So you’re asking me to... Sleep with you? As in, right now?"

"I mean, no, not right this second.” You frowned. “But it’s fine, don’t worry about it -“

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” He stared at you, brow furrowing so deeply it created a shadow across his eyes. “But I need a bit to process this. Because I love you, you know that. You’re my best friend. But we’re... We’re us. We get pizza at 3 AM and argue over Mario Kart till the neighbors complain. We don’t... We don’t do..."

"I know," you said, guilt twisting your stomach. The heat in your face was unbearable now. Your own worries and insecurities had just ruined the one good, steady thing in your life. "God, Johnny, I’m sorry. Please just forget it. It was a stupid ask anyway -“

"No, stop," he interrupted, leaning forward. His expression softened, the concern overriding the confusion. "Don't apologize. I’m not saying no - I’m just trying to wrap my head around the logistics. If we do this... If we cross that line... We can't, like, uncross it, you know? And I don't want to screw up the dynamic we have. I’d rather die than make things weird between us."

"It wouldn't be weird," you lied, though you weren't sure if you believed it. "It would just be... A favor. Getting it over with. With someone I trust instead of fumbling around with someone who doesn’t give a shit.”

Johnny let out a long exhale, his gaze drifting over your face as if he was searching for the right answer in your features. "It’s not just about 'getting it over with,' though. Your first time is supposed to be... I don't know, special? Or at least not, like, traumatizing and terrible."

“Was yours?”

“We’re not talking about me right now.”

“I’m baring my soul - the least you can do is tell me if you had a good first time.”

He sighed, stubbing a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “Fine. It was good. Over a bit too fast, but I was… Eager to please.”

A light laugh escaped your lips, though it did nothing to ease the tension. "I’m just… Scared, I guess. And at least I know you won't laugh at me, or keep going even if I beg you to stop. Which is my concern with other guys.”

That seemed to break through his hesitation. He reached out, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist to calm your fidgeting. "I would never laugh at you. And I would absolutely never ever make you do anything you didn't want to do. If you said stop - that’s the end of it.”

You looked up, meeting his eyes. There was no mockery or judgment. Just a fierce, protective warmth that made your throat tight.

"So?" you whispered. "Will you?"

Johnny studied you for a long moment. Then, a slow, small smile touched his lips. Not the cocky grin he flashed at the world, but something smaller, more private. "Yeah," he said softly. "I will."

"Really?"

"Really." He squeezed your wrist. "I’m sorry for kinda freaking out. You caught me off guard, that’s all. But if this is what you need... If you’re sure want me to be the one... Then yeah. I’m more than willing. I want to make it good for you. When do you want me?”

"Uh, Saturday night?" You suggested, heart skipping a beat.

"Saturday night," he agreed. "I’ll come over around eight. We can order dinner, hang out... Ease into it. And if you change your mind, we just eat pizza and play video games like normal. Deal?"

"Deal."

Johnny walked back to his dormitory later that night with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the cool night air doing nothing to cool the heat in his cheeks. The city hummed around him - distant sirens, the thrum of traffic - but his mind was a chaotic swirl of thoughts.

She’s a virgin.

Even though he logically knew virginity was a social construct, the words echoed in his head, heavy and daunting. He’d been with plenty of women and absolutely knew his way around a bedroom - how to read cues, instances to be gentle or rough depending on what the moment called for. But this? This was uncharted territory. He wouldn’t just sleeping with any girl; he was sleeping with you. His best friend. The person who knew him better than anyone else on the planet and who he loved and cared about deeply.

And he had the potential to screw it up. Spectacularly.

He didn't want to be the guy who gave you a mediocre, boring first time. Or someone who made it awkward, painful, or - God forbid - traumatizing. If he fucked this up, it wouldn't just be as simple as a bad hookup; it would be a shift in the tectonic plates of your friendship. He could lose you. Not all at once, but slowly, as the awkwardness piled up until you were nothing but strangers. And that was something he simply couldn’t allow to happen.

By the time he unlocked his front door, he was already reaching for his phone and scrolling through his contacts, his thumb hovering over a name he both loved and occasionally feared in equal measure.

“Hello?” The voice was crisp and efficient, as always.

"Sue," Johnny said, collapsing onto his couch. "I need your help. And before you say anything, no, I didn't blow up another lab."

”I should hope not,” she said, though he could hear the smile in her voice. “What’s going on?”

"I have... A situation," Johnny began, pacing the length of his small dorm room. "With a girl. I mean, a friend. A friend who’s a girl. Fuck. Woman. A grown woman. Not a girl. She’s not underage or anything -“

“Tell me you didn’t get someone pregnant, Johnny.”

“Fucking hell, Sue. What kind of a question is that?”

“Probably a valid one, given your current state.”

“Okay, well it’s not like that. She’s definitely not pregnant. But she’s really important to me.”

“Oh?” Sue’s interest was piqued. “Go on.”

"She wants to... You know. With me. But she’s never... Uh..."

“Never what, Johnny? Use your words.”

"She’s never been with anyone," he blurted out. "She’s a virgin. And she asked me to be her first.”

“Virginity is a social construct, you know that right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Of course I know that, Sue. But like, your first time is still stressful and important.”

“So what did you tell her?”

“I mean, I said yes, obviously, because I’d do anything for her. But now I’m terrified I’m going to scar her for life or make things weird forever, and I have no fucking idea how to handle this.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Johnny held his breath, wondering if he’d made a mistake calling his older sister - his brilliant, emotionally mature, terrifyingly perceptive older sister - about this.

“First of all,” Sue said, her voice dropping to a more serious register, “I’m proud of you for not saying no just because it’s complicated. That’s a big step for you.”

"Gee, thanks," he muttered. "But seriously, Sue. What do I do?"

“You listen,” she said firmly. “This isn't about performance. It’s not about showing off or trying to be the best she’s ever had. It’s about making her feel safe. If she’s asking you, it’s because she trusts you implicitly. That’s a gift, Johnny. Don't treat it like a challenge.”

"I know," he said, raking a hand through his hair. "I just don't want to disappoint her."

“Then don't make it about you,” Sue said simply. “Ask her what she wants. What she likes. Take it slow. Foreplay isn't a suggestion; it’s a requirement. Make sure she’s comfortable and feels emotionally ready. And if she says stop, you stop. No questions asked.”

“Obviously. I’d never… I’d never be the type of guy who… Yeah. Okay.”

“And don’t forget - it’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey.”

Johnny exhaled. “Right. Of course.”

“And Johnny?”

"Yeah?"

“Be gentle with her heart,” Sue said softly. “That’s the part that’s easily broken.”

The mere thought of hurting your heart nearly broke his.

"I will," he promised. "Thanks, Sue."

“Anytime, little brother,” she said. “And try not to panic. You’re a good man. You’ll figure it out.”

She hung up, leaving Johnny alone in the quiet of his apartment. He stared up at the ceiling, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction. He could do this. He would do this. Because you asked him to. And because, deep down, he knew there was no one else in the world he’d have wanted you to ask.

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, you had spent the last three hours in the bathroom - scrubbing, shaving, and exfoliating every inch of your skin until you felt raw. You had blow-dried your hair until your arms ached and applied makeup with a precision probably reserved for surgical procedures. While you recognized that Johnny likely didn’t care, there was a part of you that desperately wanted him to at least find you a little bit attractive. Surely that would make this whole weird situation feel better, right?

Now, you stood in front of your full-length mirror, staring at your reflection. Underneath a knee-length, pale blue satin robe, you wore the matching set of black lace that you’d bought months ago on a whim and never had the courage to wear. The bra was balconette-style lifting and shaping your breasts, the lace scalloped edges framing them perfectly. The underwear was high-cut and cheeky, leaving very little to the imagination while still managing to feel elegant.

You looked good. You knew you did. But beneath the hopefully sexy exterior, your nerves were a tangled mess of jagged wire, and you spent hours pacing the dorm.

The clock ticked to 8:00 PM, and a sharp knock echoed through your room. You took a deep breath and opened the creaking door to see Johnny standing there, smiling gently.

"Pizza delivery for the incredibly anxious," he held up the boxes in his hands. "I come bearing pepperoni and garlic knots."

Your heart skipping a beat as he stepped inside and nudged the door closed with his hip. He looked... Good. Unfairly good, as usual. He’d swapped his usual t-shirt for a dark gray henley that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered nicely at his waist, paired with dark sweats that were somehow worn in all the right places. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d just showered, and the scent of his soap - something woodsy and clean - wafted over you, its familiarity instantly calming your racing heart just a fraction.

"Hey," you said, voice coming out a little breathless. You suddenly felt a little underdressed and exposed, crossing your arms around your torso.

"Hey there,” he replied softly, setting the pizza box on the table. He turned to look at you, his gaze sweeping over you from your bare feet up to your face. He didn't leer or look weirded out by the fact that you’d greeted him in lingerie. He just looked... Sweet. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks," you managed, your fingers knotting in the tie of your robe. "You too."

He smiled, that familiar, easy grin that made your stomach flip. "So. Pizza. Movie. Zero pressure, remember?"

"Right," you exhaled, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. "Zero pressure."

You spent the next hour curled up on your bed together, the pizza box open between you like a peace offering. You watched some mindless action movie you’d both seen a dozen times, the explosions and car chases providing a welcome distraction from the elephant in the room. Johnny was the picture of relaxation. He ate his pizza, laughed at the stupid jokes, and kept up a steady stream of commentary that had you giggling despite your nerves.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the knot in your chest began to loosen. This was still Johnny. He wasn't a stranger. On the contrary. He was your safe place.

By the time the credits rolled, you were leaning back against your ample pile of pillows, legs stretched out in front of you. The pizza was gone, the box discarded on the floor, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of your desk lamp. Johnny sat toward the end of the bed, back against the wall and your legs pulled over his lap casually.

"You're tense," Johnny observed, turning to look at you. He reached out, his fingers grazing your ankle.

"Sorry," you mumbled. "It's just... I’m stressed."

"I get that.” After a moment of silent, you felt his warm hands wrap around your left ankle, thumbs pressing firmly into the arch of your foot.

"Oh," you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Good?"

"So good."

He worked in silence for a long time, alternating between your apparently very tense feet, fingers digging into the tension in your soles, slowly moving up to your calves with a firm, rhythmic pressure. It was intimate, but not sexual. It was just… Johnny taking care of you, just like he always did - but in a different way. You felt yourself melting into the mattress, the knots in your stomach slowly unraveling under his touch.

After a little while, you began to feel guilty for allowing him to massage you while you did nothing in return. You’d asked Johnny for sex. Surely he’d rather be doing that. "You don't have to -“

"I want to," he interrupted. "Just breathe, okay?"

You did as he asked, letting out a long, shuddering breath. By the time he finished with your feet, you were a puddle of relaxed goo, your eyes heavy and your limbs loose.

"How’s the back?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling.

“Fine.”

“Tell me the truth, please?”

"Uh. Kinda tense," you admitted.

"Turn over.”

You hesitated.

"It's okay," he said, reading your facial expression. "I'm just gonna rub your shoulders for now. I promise. Taking things slow, remember?”

You took a deep breath and rolled over, settling onto your stomach. The mattress shifted as he moved and straddled your thighs. He sat back on his heels, his weight settling heavily on your legs, grounding you. After a moment, Johnny’s hands landed on your shoulders, warm and strong. He started with a firm pressure, thumbs digging into the knots on either side of your spine. You groaned quietly, pressing your face into the pillow.

"Tell me if I'm too rough, okay?” He murmured, leaning forward slightly.

"You're… Really good at this.”

“So you’re saying I have a good fallback career if world-famous astronaut doesn’t work out?” You could hear the cheeky smile he was no doubt sporting in his voice.

“Oh for sure.”

Johnny laughed, continuing to work his way down and then up your back. His fingers tracing the curve of your spine, pressing into the muscles on either side. He moved with agonizing slowness, his touch deliberate and tender. He wasn't rushing or even trying to get you out of your clothes. He was just... Learning you. And that felt good.

"God, you're tight," he mumbled, his thumbs digging into a particularly stubborn knot just below your shoulder blade. A small cry caught in your throat and the pressure immediately softened. "Breathe through it for me, okay?”

You did, your eyes fluttering shut as the pain slowly morphed into a dull, throbbing pleasure. He spent a long time on your shoulders, then moved down to your mid-back, his fingers splayed wide, his palms hot against your skin through the satin.

"Can I..." he started, his voice dropping an octave. "Can I undo the robe? It's kinda in the way."

Your heart skipped a beat, eyes flying open. You were already incredibly turned on, your body humming with a low, steady heat that had nothing to do with the massage and everything to do with the man currently straddling your thighs.

"Yes," you whispered.

He didn't rip it open or yank it down. He reached around your waist, his fingers finding the loose knot and tugging gently, the satin slithering open, exposing your back to the cool air and his gaze. He didn't comment on the set underneath - and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or offended. But he didn't make a sound. He just rested his hands on your bare skin, his palms hot and slightly calloused.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, your face burning as you felt the cool air hit your skin, followed immediately by the heat of his hands.

He resumed the massage, his hands gliding over your bare skin with a slow, deliberate reverence. He worked his way down your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, dipping into the hollows beside your vertebrae. He took his time, exploring the landscape of your back, steadily easing the tension in your muscles. Eventually he reached the small of your back, thumbs pressing into the dimples just above your waistband. He hesitated there, his hands resting heavily on your hips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, the words barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

You felt yourself blush. “Don’t say things you don’t mean just to make me feel better, Storm.”

“When have I ever done that? I only say what I mean.” He dragged his index finger slowly down your spine, and your hips shifted instinctively under his touch.

“Johnny -“

"Shh," he soothed, his hands stilling. "Just feel."

He leaned forward, chest brushing against your back, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. It was chaste, innocent almost, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight through you.

"Can I keep going?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"Please," you whimpered.

His hands slid down, fingers hooking under the lace waistband of your panties. He didn't pull them down. He just stroked the skin there, his touch light and teasing.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, his voice rough.

"I don't want you to," you breathed, turning your head so you could look at him.

His eyes were dark, locked on yours. He looked torn, a war warring behind his gaze - a mix of desire and a fierce, protective need to make sure you were okay.

"Then let me know what you like," he said, his thumbs tracing the curve of your hips. "Or don't like. This is about you, remember?"

You nodded, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it through your back. "I know. I just... I don't know what I like. I've never... you know."

"It’s okay," he soothed, leaning down to press another kiss to your shoulder, this one lingering. It felt far more like the kiss of a lover than a friend doing another friend a favor. "We'll figure it out together. Just tell me if something feels good. Or especially if it doesn't. Promise?”

"Okay," you whispered.

Johnny’s large hands continued their exploration, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine again, dipping into the hollows of your lower back. He was taking his sweet time to warm you up to his touch. It was evident that he wanted you to be comfortable and hopefully turned on.

And God help you, you were. The anxiety was still there, a low hum in the back of your mind, but it was being drowned out by the heat of his hands and the feel of his weight on your thighs. This was Johnny. Your best friend. The one person in the world you trusted implicitly.

And he was touching you like you were something precious.

"Wanna turn over?" He asked, voice low. "I want to see your face."

You hesitated for a split second, but then you nodded, rolling onto your back beneath him. He sat back to give you room, his gaze sweeping over you.

The robe had fallen completely open now, exposing the matching set beneath. The lace was delicate against your skin. But Johnny didn't say a word. He just looked, his eyes darkening as they traced the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips.

"You're stunning," he breathed finally reaching out to trace the edge of the bra cup with his thumb. "Absolutely stunning."

You shivered under his touch, nipples hardening under the lace. Even in the dim light, he noticed, and a small smile played on his lips.

"Sensitive?"

"A little," you admitted.

"Good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over the lace again. "That's good."

He didn't immediately make a move to unhook the bra or even try to slide your panties down. He just sat there, looking at you, eyes filled with a warmth that made your chest tight. You wondered if he looked at all his hookups like that, or if you were the outlier. Or if he was just putting on a show to make you more comfortable. Either way, in all likelihood, you were only going to see that look in his eyes once. May as well enjoy it.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly.

"Yes," you whispered. "More than okay."

"Good," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Then we're doing this right."

Johnny didn't dive in immediately. He shifted his weight, moving to straddle your hips again, but he kept his upper body raised, caging you in without crushing you. He looked down at you, his expression open and searching, waiting for a final confirmation.

You reached up, threading your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and tugged him gently down toward you.

“Do you… Would you kiss me? Please?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

Johnny lowered his head, but instead of crashing his lips against yours, he hovered for a moment, taking in your face with appreciation. He tilted his head, slanting his lips over yours in a slow, deliberate press. It wasn't aggressive. It was a gentle testing of the waters.

His lips were softer than you’d imagined, warm and firm. He moved them against yours with a maddening patience, tracing the seam of your mouth with his tongue before sliding it inside. You sighed, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He somehow tasted like peppermint and something inherently Johnny - warmth and safety and barely restrained energy.

He kissed you for a long time, exploring your mouth with a thoroughness that left you breathless. It wasn’t like he was trying to prove a point or dominate you; he was still seemingly learning you. He was a quick study too - figuring out that you liked it when he nipped gently at your bottom lip, or that you sighed into his mouth when he deepened the angle. He learned that your hands instinctively went to his shoulders when you were a bit overwhelmed, anchoring yourself to him. In return, you figure out that he liked when you tugged on his hair a bit.

When he finally pulled back, you were dazed, lips tingling.

"Okay?" He whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.

"Very okay," your voice was raspy.

"Perfect." Johnny pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw. You shivered, and felt him smile against your flushed skin. "Now, I'm going to kiss you everywhere else. And I want you to talk to me. Use your words, and tell me what feels good. Or if you want me to stop. Okay?"

"Okay."

“Good girl.” The words sent a confusing ripple through your body, and he grinned as he shifted, trailing his lips down the column of your throat. He found the sensitive spot just below your ear and lingered there, sucking gently until you gasped.

"There?" he murmured against your skin.

"Y-yes," you breathed.

"Excellent." Johnny moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat. He took his time, mapping the terrain of your collarbones with his tongue and searing kisses, tracing the delicate lines of your shoulders with his teeth.

Steadily, he moved down the center of your chest, his lips grazing the swell of your breasts above the lace of your bra. He didn't try to pull the fabric down or rip the bra off just yet. Instead, he simply kissed skin you’d allowed him to see so far, his hands resting on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin underneath your breasts.

"Fuck, you’re so soft," he whispered, half to himself, half to you, his breath hot against your skin. "So beautiful."

Johnny then continued his descent, bypassing your breasts for the moment to press kisses to your stomach. He dipped his tongue into your navel, making you squirm, his hands settling on your waist to hold you steady.

"Ooh. Ticklish?"

"A little," you admitted.

He grinned deviously against your skin, pressing a kiss to your hip bone. "Good to know."

Johnny kissed the inside of your elbow, the palm of your hand, the sensitive skin of your wrist. You weren’t quite sure what you’d been expecting from him - but it certainly wasn’t this. He was worshipping you, treating every inch of you like you were precious. The anxiety was still there, a low hum in the back of your mind, but it was quickly being drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of being seen and cherished by someone you cared about so deeply.

Eventually, Johnny made his way back to your chest. He hovered over the lace of your bra, his eyes locking with yours.

"Can I?" he asked.

You nodded, and he smiled encouragingly as he unhooked it with an easy flick of his wrist, the fabric going slack against your skin. He reached up, sliding the straps down your arms, pulling the bra away and tossing it carefully onto your nightstand.

The air hit your skin, cool and shocking. You instinctively moved to cover yourself, arms crossing over your chest, but Johnny caught your wrists gently.

"No," he said firmly but softly. "Don't hide from me. You're beautiful."

After a little bit of coaxing, he managed to pry your arms away, pinning them gently to your sides. He looked his fill, his gaze sweeping over your naked breasts with an appreciation that made your entire being burn from the inside out. Then he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the hollow between them.

"God," he breathed, his voice rough. "You're perfect."

Johnny didn't grab or maul, like some of the guys you’d made out with. He cupped one breast in his hand, testing the heft of it in his palm. He brushed his thumb over your nipple, watching in fascination as it hardened under his touch.

"I like how responsive you are," he murmured, leaning down to take the nipple into his mouth.

You cried out, fingers flying to his hair as he swirled his tongue around the bud, teasing it with his teeth before sucking it gently into the heat of his mouth. He switched to the other one, giving it the same attention, his hand coming up to carefully toy with the breast he wasn't currently attending to. Your brain didn’t quite know what to do with itself as he lavished attention on your chest, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firm, suctioning pulls that left you gasping. He paid attention to the sensitive underside, the curve where they met your ribs, the skin in the center. He was learning what made you gasp, moan, and writhe beneath him.

"J-Johnny," you breathed, your head falling back against the pillows.

"Yeah?" he mumbled against your skin, not lifting his head.

"It's... You feel good."

He lifted his head, a proud smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really?"

"Y-yeah." You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. You're making me feel things I've never felt before. And now I’m worried that I’ll want to feel them again with you.

"I was hoping you’d say so," he said, leaning up to kiss you again, tasting you with a newfound hunger. "That's the idea."

He settled back slightly, his weight comforting rather than crushing. He looked down at you, his expression soft and open.

"How are you doing?" he asked. "Still okay?"

Your heart felt like it might burst. "Oh, so much better than okay."

"Atta girl," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Because we're just getting started."

Johnny reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He didn't pull them down yet. He just stroked the skin there, his touch light and teasing.

"Can I take these off?" He asked. "Please? I want to see all of you."

You hesitated for a split second, but then you nodded, lifting your hips slightly to help him. He made no move to pull them down, and you shot him a questioning look. Was he backing out now?

“Use your words.”

"I- Yes," you whispered. “You can take them off.”

“Thank you.” He hooked his fingers under the lace and at an agonizingly slow pace, he slid the underwear down your legs, tossing them elsewhere with the bra. Now you were completely naked beneath him.

It was odd. He didn't stare or ogle you. Like he had before, he simply took you in, his gaze sweeping over you with reverence. His blue eyes roamed along the curve of your hips, the flare of your thighs, and finally between your legs.

"Fuck, you’re stunning," he breathed, reaching out to trace a finger down the center of your chest, over your stomach and stopping at the apex of your thighs. "Absolutely stunning."

You shivered under his touch, body flushing with heat. You were exposed and vulnerable in a way you'd never been before, but you didn't feel scared. You felt... Cherished. Like he was taking this all extremely seriously - or unwrapping a gift he'd been waiting a lifetime to open.

"Johnny," you whispered, reaching for him.

He leaned down, kissing you deeply, tongue tangling with yours as he ground his hips against yours, the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your sensitive skin, making you gasp into his mouth.

"Is this okay?" he asked, pulling back slightly. "Is this too much?"

"No," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "It's perfect."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sweeping through your mouth with a mastery that left you breathless. His hips ground against yours again, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. You were utterly lost in him. All your senses competed for your attention, and you were overwhelmed trying to focus. The feel of his hands on your skin, the weight of his body on yours, the taste of his mouth and smell of his cologne. The anxiety was quieter now, rapidly being replaced by a burning need for more.

"J-Johnny," you gasped, breaking the kiss. "Please."

"Please what?" he asked, his blue eyes darkening in a way that sent shivers through your body.

"Touch me.”

“Where do you want me to touch you, baby?” His thumb traced light, tempting circles over your bare hip.

"Anywhere. E-everywhere."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Fuck: You're killing me."

"Good," you retorted, a small smile playing on your lips. He held most of the cards, but you could infuse the situation with a little humor.

Johnny laughed against your skin, the vibrations rumbling through your chest. "Brat."

Kissing his way down your body again, his lips trailed a path of pure fire across your skin. He bypassed your breasts this time, heading straight for the apex of your thighs.

"Spread your legs for me," his voice was soft.

You did, heart pounding so hard you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. He settled between your thighs, his hands resting on your knees.

"You're sure?" Johnny asked, looking up at you. “We can stop anytime you want to, okay? Just say the word and we’ll -“

"I'm sure," you interrupted, before your nerves could get the better of you.

"Good," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, okay?”

He started kissing across your thighs, his lips and tongue tracing a path of fire. He took his time, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firm bites that left you gasping. He paid attention to the sensitive skin behind your knee, the curve of your hip, the area where your thigh met your pelvis. One of his hands wandered up your body to your breast, fingertip ghosting over your now-hard nipple. He was driving you insane - you were certain of it. You were writhing on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets and breath coming in ragged gasps with every touch.

"Johnny," you begged, your hips bucking off the bed. "Come on -“

"Soon," he promised, his breath hot against your skin. "But not yet."

“You’re not being fair.”

“Awe, that’s too bad.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

He continued his torture, his lips and tongue mapping every inch of your inner thighs. So close and yet so far. He was meticulous, thorough, and utterly devastating. You were a puddle of need, your body humming with a low, steady heat that was threatening to consume your entire being.

Finally, finally, he leaned up, his face level with your core. His strong hands pressed your thighs apart, and you almost shook with excitement.

"Ready?" he asked.

You nodded.

“Use your words for me, sweet girl.”

“I-I -“

“I need to hear you say it, or this stops right now.”

You were surprised at how attentive he was being. Of course you’d know he valued consent, but the lengths he was going to in order to ensure your comfort was touching. “I’m r-ready.”

To your surprise, Johnny didn't dive in immediately. He took his time, tracing the shape of your sex with his fingers, exploring the landscape of your body with a gentle curiosity and fascination. He’d spread you open, his gaze intently focused on your most intimate place. Maybe you should’ve been self-conscious, being looked at so closely. But something about it felt… Right.

"God," he breathed, his voice rough with desire as he looked up, eyes locking with yours. “You’re amazing.”

Without another word, Johnny leaned down, pressing a kiss to your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking off the bed.

"That's it," he encouraged, his hands resting on your hips and pressing you down to hold you steady. "Lemme hear you, baby. You make the sexiest sounds.”

Johnny swirled his tongue around the tight bundle of nerves, tasting you with a fervor that made you want to grind yourself against him . He started slow, with light, teasing licks that had you gasping for air. He paid attention to your reactions, learning what made you moan, what pace made you whimper, and the amount of pressure that made you cry out.

He took his sweet time, building you up slowly. Agonizingly slowly. He varied the pressure, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud, then sucking it gently into his mouth. He inserted a finger, sliding it deep inside you, crooking it to find a spot that made your vision blur at the edges. Your back arched off the bed as you tried to muffle a needy moan.

"Right there, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice more than a little smug.

"Y-yes - don’t stop -“

"I won't," he promised, increasing the pressure of his tongue, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a steady rhythm. "I've got you."

He worked you over with a single-minded focus, driving you higher. The tension in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, sparks of pleasure that were almost painful. Your entire body felt hot and close to snapping entirely.

"Johnny, please," you begged, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. "I need... I-I need..."

"Let go," he commanded gently. "I've got you."

With a final, firm suck on your clit, he pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry, your body convulsing, your vision whiting out. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to consume you entirely. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Certainly nowhere near as good as the rare occasions when you’d explored yourself. You rode through the aftershocks, hips bucking against his face and fingers still tangling in his hair.

Johnny didn't fully stop until you collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for air, your body limp and satiated. He lifted his head, a satisfied grin on his lips as he crawled up your body. Tenderly, he pushed a lock of hair off of your sweaty forehead.

"You okay?"

"I… Yeah. But okay doesn't cover it," you breathed, reaching up to cup his face in your hands instinctively. "That was... Incredible."

"Good," he said, leaning down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips, a flavor that was surprisingly intimate. "Because if you want, we aren’t done yet."

"Show me," you challenged, pulling him down for another kiss.

He groaned, deepening the gesture, his tongue tangling with yours, making you gasp.

Eventually Johnny begrudgingly broke the kiss, sitting back on his heels to look at you. His gaze was dark, hungry, but there was a tenderness there too that made your chest feel oddly tight. That wasn’t how friends looked at one another. But then again, asking your best friend to take your virginity also wasn’t entirely normal.

"You sure you're ready for more?" he asked. "We can stop here if you want."

"I-I don't want to stop," you said firmly, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb. "I want this. All of you."

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath and pressing a kiss to your palm. "You have no idea how much I want that too.”

"Then show me," you repeated, reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Wanna take this off?”

Johnny didn't hesitate to acquiesce. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your breath hitched in your throat. Fuck, he was beautiful. Broad shoulders, a solid chest, a stomach that was flat and rippled with muscle. He was a work of art, and just for tonight - he was all yours.

You reached up, running your hands reverently over his skin, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs. He shivered under your touch, muscles twitching as he let out a small groan.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

"Hopefully not before you finish what you started, Storm,” you retorted. “You made me a promise.”

He laughed, a low, rough sound as he slid his sweats and boxers off. "Oh, I intend to finish this. Thoroughly."

Your eyes swept over him once more, dropped to below his waist to take in the sheer magnitude of him. He was hard, and far bigger than you expected, thick and imposing, and a fresh wave of nerves spiked in your stomach. Johnny saw the flicker of hesitation in your eyes and immediately reached for you, taking your hands in his.

"Hey," he said softly. "We don't have to rush. We can stop right now. Just hang out. I'm perfectly happy just -“

"No," you said, shaking your head, squeezing his hands. "I want this. I just... This is so stupid, but uh, I'm not sure it'll fit."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You’re gonna give me a complex, baby. But we'll go slow, I promise. And if it hurts, we stop. No questions asked."

"Okay," you breathed, still not entirely convinced that he would be able to fit fully inside of you without breaking you in half. “I trust you.”

"That’s what I like to hear," he leaned down to kiss you. "Just relax, okay baby? Lemme take care of you."

Snatching up his discarded sweatpants, he fumbled around and pulled out a condom. You were grateful for his foresight. Somehow amidst your thinking (and extensive overthinking), you hadn’t acquired one. He ripped it open with his teeth, rolling it down his length with practiced ease before settling back between your legs. He leaned down, kissing you deeply once more, his tongue sweeping through your mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

"Relax," he murmured against your lips. He rubbed a light hand up and down your torso, lightly massaging your tensed muscles. “You’re safe, okay? Just breathe. Relax for me.”

You did as he asked. You trusted him - of course. But this was… A lot. It was a big moment, and you were terrified of messing it up somehow. With. Deep breath, he lined himself up with your entrance, gaze locked with yours.

"Look at me, baby,” your attention focused on him.

The intimacy of the moment was nearly overwhelming. His eyes remained on you as he pushed forward, the broad head of his cock stretching you open.

It burned.

It was a sharp, stinging stretch that made you gasp, and your hands flew to his shoulders. Your eyes squeezed closed as you tried to make your body adjust. A warm hand pressed gently against your face, wiping away a tear that had leaked from the corner of your eye.

"Don’t cry, baby. Breathe," he soothed, stilling immediately. "Just breathe, okay? You're doing so good."

"It's j-just... A lot."

"I know," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Just tell me when to move. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You took a few shallow breaths, willing your muscles to relax. The burning sensation faded a bit into a dull ache - overwhelming and new, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Okay," you breathed, opening your eyes to look at him. "You can k-keep going."

Johnny pushed forward, inch by inch, slowly burying himself deep inside you. He stretched you open, filling you up in a way you'd never experienced before. It was intense, still bordering on painful, but beneath it was a simmering heat that made your toes curl. His steady stream of praise cut through the foggy haze of half-pain.

You feel amazing.

Such a good girl for me.

I’ve wanted this for so long.

You didn’t have time to register the last comment because he was suddenly fully seated inside you. The ache radiated through your pelvis as he let you adjust to his size. He leaned down, kissing you deeply, distracting you from the temporary discomfort.

"You okay?" Johnny asked, pulling back slightly to look closely at your face.

"Yeah," you breathed. "Just... Full."

"Good full or bad full?"

"Uh, good full," you admitted. "I think."

He chuckled, but he held still for a long time, kissing you, touching you, letting you get used to the feel of him inside you. At some point, he reached between your bodies, finding your clit with his thumb, rubbing it in slow circles. You gasped, hips arching into his talented fingers. The pleasure spiked, overriding the residual discomfort.

"Johnny," you moaned.

"Yeah, baby?”

"Move. P-please."

The young man above you didn't need to be asked twice. He pulled out carefully, then pushed back in, setting a slow, steady rhythm that set your entire body alight. He moved with a deliberate precision, watching your face for any sign of further pain or discomfort. The earlier sharp feeling slowly disappeared, replaced with the pleasure that Johnny had introduced you to with his tongue just a little while ago.

"Is this okay?" he asked, voice rough.

All you could do was moan in response. He picked up the pace slightly, his strokes becoming longer, deeper. He angled his hips, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see a galaxy of stars.

"Oh god, right there -“

"Right there?" He asked, a deviously satisfied grin appearing on his face.

"Johnny -“

The pressure of his thumb on your clit increased, his hips snapping against yours. "I've got you, sweet girl."

He fucked you with a single-minded focus, driving you higher and higher. The tension in your pelvis coiled tighter and tighter, a knot of pleasure that was demanding release.

"Please," you begged, your hands fisting in his sheets. "I can’t -“

"Let go," he commanded softly. "I've got you."

He thrust into you, hitting so deep inside of you that you were certain the two of you were becoming one person, and you shattered for the second time that night. You came with a body-wracking gasp, convulsing as your vision blurred. You felt him stiffen above you, his rhythm faltering as he found his own release, spilling into the condom with a groan.

Johnny nearly collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy and comforting. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both came down from your high. Your hearts were hammering against each other's chests, a frantic, uneven rhythm that slowly began to sync.

The two of you lay there for a long time, just breathing. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, but beneath it was the familiar scent of Johnny - woodsy and clean.

After a while, he propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at you. His expression was soft, open, and filled with a warmth that made your chest tight once more. Don’t look at me like that.

"How’re you feeling?" He asked, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.

"I - uh… Great," you breathed, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your index finger. "That was... Incredible."

"Yeah?" he asked, a pleased grin spreading across his face.

"Oh yeah," you confirmed. "You made it amazing."

"You were pretty amazing yourself," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "For a first time, you were pretty damn perfect."

Perfect? "I don't think anyone has ever called me that before."

"Well, they should," he said, rolling off you to dispose of the condom. You expected him to get dressed and leave, but to your surprise he quickly settled back on the bed, pulling you into his arms. You curled into his side, head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart.

"Hey, Johnny?" Your voice came out as a shaking whisper.

"Mhm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making it special."

He tightened his arm around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Anytime. Honestly. I mean that. Anytime at all."

You lay there in the quiet, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The anxiety was gone, replaced by a warm, glowing contentment.

You had done it. You’d finally crossed the bridge that has seemed so utterly impossible just days before. And to top it all off, you had crossed it with the only person in the world you truly trusted enough to catch you when you fell.

Johnny was lying on his back beside you, one arm thrown over his eyes, his breathing a deep, rhythmic cadence. You stared up at the ceiling, body humming in the aftermath, your still-flushed skin sensitive where the dorm room air hit it.

The physical pleasure was fading, receding like a tide, leaving behind the jagged rocks of your overactive mind. You turned your head, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed line of his jaw.

He looked satisfied.

But was he actually satisfied with you?

The thought that he wasn’t actually too thrilled with your performance was a fast-acting drop of poison in your veins. After all, you’d seen him leave parties with girls who had tons of experience. Women who knew exactly what they were doing, who were confident and sophisticated and worldly. You were just... You. A fumbling novice who had needed him to talk you through every step and check in constantly. What if he hated it?

"Hey," Johnny said softly, lowering his arm to look at you. His eyes were still warm, roaming your face with a gentle concern. Similar to how he’d looked at you after he’d picked you up from the dentist when you’d gotten your wisdom teeth out. "You went all quiet on me. Everything okay?"

You bit your lip, pulling the sheet up to cover your chest instinctively. "I'm okay. Just... Thinking."

"About?" He prompted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was so gentle, so familiar.

"Was I..." You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. You hated how vulnerable you felt, how small. "Was I, uh, okay?"

Johnny frowned. "Okay? Baby, you were incredible. You were -“

“I mean," you interrupted, your voice tightening. "Adequate. You know... For you. Did it - did I - feel good?”

"Adequate?" He looked genuinely confused. "What’re you talking about?"

You took a shaky breath, deciding to just rip the bandage off. "I know you've been with a lot of women, Johnny. And they probably knew what they were doing, and were a lot of fun. And I'm just...” I didn't know what I was doing. I probably didn't do anything right. You’re probably thinking of excuses to leave my dorm right this second.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression nearly unreadable. Then he let out a long sigh, shifting closer so he could wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him, skin to skin.

"First of all," Johnny said, his voice low and serious. "Don't ever compare yourself to anyone else. For anything. There’s no one else like you. And secondly? You were perfect.”

“But I-“

“You were responsive and honest and you trusted me. That's the sexiest thing in the world."

"You're just saying that," you mumbled, burrowing your face into his shoulder. What was it about sex that made you suddenly self conscious? Normally you’d never be this self-conscious about anything.

"I'm not," he insisted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I mean it. I've honestly never had an experience like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn't just... It didn’t feel like a hookup or helping you rip a metaphorical bandaid off. We’ve been friends for so long, and… I dunno. That sort of connection and trust just made it a million times better than other… Trysts."

His words soothed the jagged edges of your anxiety, but they couldn't quiet the fear entirely. Because the sex was just one part of the equation. The other part - the friendship portion - was the thing you were most terrified of losing.

Maybe this was all a horrible idea. How could you have been so stupid and selfish as to think sex with Johnny would solve any problem other than the fact that you no longer had zero sexual experience.

You pulled back slightly to look at him, searching his handsome face. "How are you feeling? About... Us?"

"Us?" He repeated the word slowly, like he was testing its weight.

"Yeah. I mean, we just... We crossed a huge line. And I know we said it wouldn't be weird, but..." You trailed off, throat tight. "I'm scared.”

A crease appeared between Johnny’s brows. “Scared?”

“That I messed everything up. That I shouldn’t have asked you at all, and you don't want to be my friend after all this. That I made things weird and you're going to realize it's too complicated and you'll drift away.”

Johnny went very still. The warmth in his eyes cooled, replaced by an intensity that made your stomach drop. He didn't answer immediately, instead he just looked at you, gaze searching your face, and you felt your heart begin to shatter. Of course. God you’re so stupid.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears pricking your eyes. "I shouldn't have asked. You can leave if you want to. I shouldn't have put this on you. It was selfish of me to ask you -“

"No," Johnny interrupted, his voice firm. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But you're not saying anything," you said, your voice trembling. "And that scares me."

"I'm trying to find the right words," he admitted, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Because I don't want to lie to you. Not about this."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Lie?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "You asked if I still want to be your friend."

You nodded, unable to speak.

"The truth is," he said slowly, voice dropping to a rough whisper. "I don't think I want to be just your friend anymore. Don’t know if I can to be. I -“

The air left your lungs in a rush. It felt like he’d punched you in the chest. The tears that had been pricking your eyes spilled over, tracking hot paths down your cheeks.

"Oh," you choked out, trying to pull away from his hands, but he held you firm. "I... Okay. I understand.” I ruined it. I ruin everything.

“Hey," he said, grip tightening. "Will you listen to me? Just for a second? You're spiraling."

"It's hard not to spiral when you just said -“

"I said I didn't want to be your friend. I never said I didn't want you.”

You froze. "What?"

Johnny voice was soft and tender. "I want to be more than your friend, baby. I’ve wanted more than that for a while. But I wasn’t going to push for anything you couldn’t reciprocate.”

You stared at him, your brain refusing to process the words. He let out a frustrated huff, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Shit, I'm sorry I’m messing this up. I'm terrible at this."

"Johnny," you breathed. "W-what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that tonight wasn't just about helping you cross a line," he said, pulling back to look you directly in the eye. "I've been in love with you for… I dunno. Ages. Years, probably. And I was too chickenshit to do anything about it until you asked me to help you.”

"Years?"

"Years," he confirmed. "Since we were kids, honestly. But especially since college started. Watching you go on dates with random losers, knowing I could treat you better... It was kinda killing me. But I didn't want to mess up our friendship, so I stayed in my lane. I was your best friend, and that was enough."

Johnny paused, his thumb stroking your cheek, wiping away your tears.

"But tonight?" He continued. "Tonight changed everything. Being with you like that... It wasn't just sex. It was... It was everything. And I realized that I can't go back to being friends. I can't pretend that I don't want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

"You... You want me?" Your voice was trembling pitifully, but you couldn’t help it. The emotions clamoring for purchase inside your chest were overwhelming.

“Of course. I want to be the one who makes you laugh. The one who holds you at night. Who takes you on dates and gets to introduce you to people as my girlfriend." It was Johnny’s turn to look nervous. “I want all of you. And I want you to have all of me too. Though I think you always have, if I’m being honest.”

You stared at him, mind racing. You thought about all the years of friendship, the late-night study sessions, the shared secrets, the way he always knew exactly what you needed. You thought about the way he looked at you tonight, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel safe, cherished, and loved.

It didn’t come as a shock when the feeling of realization settled over you like a blanket. You had been in love with him for years too. You just hadn't let yourself admit it.

"I want that," you breathed, the tears falling faster now. "All of it.”

Johnny let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders slumping in relief. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, your lips.

"Thank god," he whispered against your mouth. "Because honestly I was terrified I was about to lose you."

"You're not gonna lose me," you promised, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. "You never could. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," he said, settling you carefully against his chest. "Because I'm never letting you go now."

You curled into his side, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. The fear was gone, replaced by a warm, glowing certainty.

It was Friday, and you could feel the anticipation; the nerves that things might not go as planned gave you an annoying rash on your arms.

At 10 p.m., you heard your father snoring and got out of bed wearing jeans and a wool sweater. You went downstairs barefoot, slipped out the back door, and ran to the bus stop.

You arrived at the motel half an hour later than agreed, ran up the stairs to room 214, and knocked on the door.

He opened the door; he had a cigarette between his fingers and was wearing his old, worn-out denim jacket with frayed sleeves. He looked at you with dark, red, watery eyes; he looked like he was high.

“You’re late… bloody hell, I thought you’d changed your mind…” He yanked you by the arm roughly and shut the door behind you.

The place was just as horrible as you’d imagined—a double bed with cheap sheets; the smell of dampness and disinfectant bothered you, even more than the scent Michael gave off from his skin during his shifts.

Michael smelled of cologne and clean clothes; he’d made sure to take a good shower after his shift, thinking about how he’d fuck you that night. He grabbed you by the waist and slammed you against the wall.

“Thirty minutes late…” he scolded you again, blowing cigarette smoke in your face and making you sneeze.

“I had to leave the house really late… to make sure my parents were asleep,” you apologized.

He smiled bitterly and flicked the cigarette onto the ground, then crushed it out with his heavy boot.

He kissed you; his lips were hungry for you. He couldn’t hold back. He’d promised himself to take it slow—that there wasn’t a shift to return to for another eight hours, and that your parents weren’t going to show up out of nowhere.

But he couldn’t; it was in his system. He needed you so desperately that the slowness caused him pain. His hands quickly slid under your sweater, feeling the soft, warm flesh of your stomach. He grabbed the hem and pulled it up over your arms, leaving you in just your bra—a pink cotton one you’d picked out especially for him.

He looked at you with his dark eyes, smiled when he saw you, and you rolled your eyes, feeling silly.

“Hey, calm down, I’m not taking the piss, it’s just… it’s cute, you know?" He touched the fabric with his finger and kissed you again.

He slipped off your jeans and carried you to the bed; his fingers played with the waistband of your pink cotton panties.

The fabric was already wet with your anticipation, and he smiled between kisses; his fingers slid easily along your slit and stopped at your little button. He rubbed it slowly, even though he wanted to rip your panties off once and for all and slam you against the bed.

He held back; your small, controlled moans seemed so sweet and perfect to him. You were so used to holding back that you did it unconsciously.

He felt your sighs of pleasure against his lips; first it was his middle finger inside you, thick and long, while he looked at you with his dark eyes.

You opened your mouth, feeling it hook inside you and his thumb rubbing your little button.

“That’s my pretty girl…” he kissed you again, his tongue traced your mouth, and you tangled your fingers in his dark, slicked-back curls.

You were still wearing your sneakers and socks; Michael barely noticed when your legs started shaking, rocking the old bed.

“God… fuck…” You couldn’t hold back anymore; you bit your lip, embarrassed at having made so much noise, but his dark eyes challenged you.

“You can swear all you like here, love, no one else is going to hear you but me… cum for me, sweetheart… just for me.” His deep voice was the blessing you needed to finish.

You dug your nails into the skin of his scalp when you felt him enter you like lightning; he let out a guttural sound, and every part of you felt it—his thick, rough fingers were hooked inside you.

And it washed over you, like a hot, sprawling wave that brought everything inside you crashing down and soaked the sheets with your pleasure.

You began to sob, overwhelmed.

Michael pulled you close against his chest right after; you felt the rough fabric of his denim jacket against your cheek, Michael’s weight crushing you against the bed.

He held you tight; you felt him release his erection amid moans and grunts, burying himself inside you, filling you completely.

You fel every his vein throb, hard flesh stretching your intimacy until it burned, but he didn’t move at first.

“Yes… just hang on, love, just a bit longer,” he hissed in your ear, clinging to you, feeling your warm walls tighten around him, and he began to move slowly.

His hips found a rhythm; your sobs of pleasure only stoked his desperation, his lack of self-control, and he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t deny himself you any longer—he increased the thrusts.

He filled you with himself and then released you, over and over; the old mattress creaked, the headboard banged against the wall.

His guttural growls filled the entire room, and you felt like he was going to tear you into a thousand pieces, and that you would let him do it—you would let him tear you apart without hesitation.

He buried his face in your neck and came inside you; you felt him tremble almost at the same moment your second orgasm hit you.

This time much quieter and more controlled; you had barely recovered when he hadn’t pulled out of you yet, as he usually did, to prolong your time together, to make sure you weren’t just some fucking dream his wounded mind had conjured up to make him feel better about himself and his shitty life.

And then you heard him sob against your neck.

At first you thought it was your imagination; you opened your eyes and saw the ceiling of the motel room with its moldy corners.

The musty smell mingled with Michael’s cologne and mild soap.

He kept crying, desperately, like a little boy, and looked at you, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot and wet.

And you knew that just before you had arrived, he had already been crying.

He took your hand and kissed it; you were so surprised you couldn’t move. You couldn’t understand where the man had gone who used to fuck you desperately against the wall of the hallway in your entryway.

The same man who made you beg and submit.

He cupped your face in his hands and forced you to look him in the face through your sobs.

“I know you don’t love me the way I love you, that I’m just the bloody piece of rubbish you sleep with so you can feel like you’re making a decision for yourself because your parents treat you like a bloody little girl, but I really do love you. You’re the only good thing in my bloody life. I’ve got nothing. Do you understand? I only see my daughter at weekends, and my ex hates me — though not more than I hate myself. And I feel so bloody alone!" he growled, pressing you against him. You felt like he was going to break your ribs this time, and he hadn’t even pulled out of you yet.

But you hugged him back, let him sob into your chest. You didn’t say a word while he trembled and hiccupped so childishly it hurt; you just stroked his hair and hummed a song to calm him down.

He fell asleep with his head on your chest, drooling on the cotton of your pink bra—the one you’d put on for him.

He softened inside you as you stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

You had to leave that filthy room and go back home before dawn.

Back to your perfect, suffocating, yet familiar life, but you didn’t dare move and wake him; you just watched Michael sleep as you ran your index finger over the straight bridge of his nose and felt his warm saliva spill onto your breasts.

Michael had a bulging belly, broad shoulders, and thick, undefined arms. He had tattoos and small scars.

You watched him work from your window, his arm muscles contracting every time he threw a black bag from the dumpster into the garbage truck.

The stench emanating from the neighborhood dumpsters stung your eyes, and you had never thought of stopping by so often before, but the greeting he gave you just before he left made you smile.

 You always offered him a glass of lemonade with ice every time he passed by your house during his shift, and he drank it so fast that it dripped down his chin to his neck and stained his sweaty white tank top.

The fabric clung to his body, outlining his soft pecs and bulging belly.

You were so overprotected by your parents and trapped at home that Michael filled all your fantasies.

It was easy to like him. You liked his voice when he said your name, and he had known you since you were little because you had lived your whole life near Michelle, his foster mother.

You remembered him as a lanky, skinny kid with a buzz cut who was quite nervous. He had changed so much since the last time you saw him. He had grown a lot, was now stocky, and his dark, curly hair always stuck to his skull from the gel and sweat.

But above all, there was something in his gaze; that nervousness and insecurity had disappeared from his round, dark eyes.

He exuded confidence every time he greeted you, smiled at you, and thanked you for the glasses of lemonade.

That afternoon, the heat was agonizing, so you went downstairs with a glass of freshly made lemonade, wearing a pink floral summer dress that clung to your skin with sweat.

Michael smiled as soon as he saw you, took off his work gloves, and put them in the back pocket of his denim work overalls, which he always wore tied around his waist.

"Michael, your lemonade's ready."

Michael smiled and said your name.

"Cheers."

"No worries." You smiled at him and he approached you, overwhelmingly tall compared to you.

“Oi, sorry ’bout the smell, it’s fucking boiling.” He grunted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he gulped down the lemonade.

The sight of the drops running down his chin and neck to his chest was always a wonder to you.

"Nah, s’alright. I get it. D’you wanna hang about for a bit? Got air con in my room.” You offered, feigning innocence.

Michael hesitated, whispering your name.

"You know I’ve gotta crack on. I’m on shift."

You snorted impatiently.

"House is empty, Michael." You played with the hem of your dress, lifting it slightly, the air brushing your crotch as you gave him a glimpse of your wet pussy. You weren't wearing panties.

Michael looked at you, somewhere between surprised and angry. He grabbed you by the waist and pushed you inside the house, making sure no neighbors saw, and kicked the door shut.

He put the glass on the entryway table.

"What the hell were you thinking?” he growled, grabbing your arm and throwing you against the wall.

You laughed in his face, hanging on him to pull him toward you and licking his lips.

It tasted salty and sour.

He gasped, grabbed your wrists, and put your hands above your head.

"You think this is a fucking joke?"

You squirmed in his grip and rubbed your thigh against his crotch; he was already hard.

"Yeah, you like it."

"I said Friday, didn’t I?” he growled, trying to control himself.

"I hate motels, yeah? And you know my parents barely let me out." You pouted.

Michael snorted, letting you go, and said your name in a scolding tone.

"You know I’ve gotta work… bloody hell, I’m a mess..." he complained, feeling uncomfortable from the heat and the sour smell of his skin.

"I don’t care. You know that" You moved closer to hug him from behind, and like the first time, he didn't push you away.

You knew how much he needed warmth.

You kissed his neck, tasting his sweat on your lips. He whispered your name pleadingly as he turned around and pinned you against the wall in the hallway, near the stairs.

Sex with Michael was always quick and heartbreaking. He looked at you with a frown, his dark, intense eyes. He knelt before you, lifted the skirt of your dress up to your hips, and buried his face between your legs.

"Oh Michael, fuck..." You closed your eyes, feeling his tongue, the sound loud, vulgar, wet.

His tongue brushed your entire opening but soon focused on your mons pubis. You felt his full lips give you a loud kiss, but the light touch of his teeth on your sensitive skin made you tremble, losing any confidence you had had before. He caressed your thigh and dug his nails in, bringing your leg over his shoulder and deepening his kisses and licks.

You tried to stifle your moans, you were used to doing that, to masturbating silently in your room. You covered your mouth with one hand and the other was in Michael's sweaty, gelled hair.

You pulled his curls, trying to steady yourself. You were trembling, and he growled but didn't stop licking you, sucking your little button between his lips. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips, and he whipped you lightly against the wall, sinking his tongue inside you again and again.

You arched your back while he practically held you by the hips, and not even your hand could muffle the cries you let out when you came in his mouth.

That sensation hit you hard, leaving your mind blank, but even after he drank all the pleasure from you, Michael didn't stop sucking, looking up at you from below.

It was too much for you. Michael was doing it on purpose, to bring you down a peg, to remind you who was fucking in charge.

"Just stop it, Michael," you tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on your hips, his dark eyes, his messy curly hair. 

He stood up without taking his eyes off you, his lips and chin dripping, he wiped them sullenly with the back of his hand and untangled his overalls, letting them fall to the floor.

You noticed the thick, dark hair from his belly button to the waistband of his white boxers, the bulge in his crotch was obvious, as was the wet spot.

He pulled down his boxers easily, freeing his curved cock, its blunt head glistening with precum. Michael spat directly onto his cock and pumped it with his hand.

He lifted your leg with one hand, teasing your painfully wet, tender, and needy entrance.

Each stroke was more painful than the last, his lips tasted salty, still wet, his breath hitting you, and his kisses were soft until he let himself go completely inside you.

He grabbed your hips and you wrapped your legs around him, wanting to feel him deep inside you. He throbbed inside you, each thrust faster and more accurate, and you didn't want to stop kissing and hugging him.

Your wet, velvety walls squeezed his member tightly.

"Oh fuck... you're so tight..." he growled without stopping his thrusts.

He tried to hold back, but he was fooling no one. He wasn't going to last long. He felt like you were milking him with your small, needy pussy, squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of him. He came, silencing his moans and growls against your lips.

He held you so tightly that you felt like he was going to break your ribs, but you were strong. You took it, every last drop of him. His need to have you, to possess you, and for you to love him.

His facade crumbled after he came, at the moment when he didn't want to leave you, even though his member was softening and threatening to get hard again. The pain overwhelmed him.

He looked at you with his intense dark eyes and you knew he didn't want to leave, but he had to.

He pulled out of you and put you down on the floor, hurriedly putting on his boxers and pulling up his overalls.

The day was still hellish, and the discomfort of his wet, sticky member didn't make him feel any better, but thinking of you comforted him.

He combed his hair back, and a rebellious curl stuck to his forehead. The goodbye was sad and confusing.

There were many questions that could be summed up in, "This isn't the last time, right?"

"I’ve gotta get back on shift." he whispered, trying to steady himself.

You nodded, none of the bravado you had at the beginning remained, a good fuck from Michael left you so docile and submissive that he could laugh if it weren't for the fact that it hurt so much to leave you.

He walked to the door and opened it.

"Friday, then?" he asked before leaving. 

Although he wanted to ask, “You do love me, right?”

His eyes were almost pleading, and you felt your heart melt in your chest.

"I’ll try get out the house and be there.”

He smiled at you, kissed your forehead, and left.

You hugged yourself. He always left you feeling like you were floating, his scent on your skin and dress. Your legs were still shaking. You watched him through the window until he disappeared.

You prepared yourself for this, didn't allow yourself to get your hopes up. Maybe it was enough to be a page in his book. You knew you wouldn't make it to see the final chapter. He'd even told you flat out, don't expect a shining ring or church bells with him. Settling down is a term that wasn't even registered in Johnny's mind.

At the time, at least.

You began to squash any hope of something more the second he told you that. And you were just thankful that he'd at least had the decency to be honest with you, unlike other men who'd courted you in the past. You'd been burned one too many times, heard the phrase "I guess I just don't feel as strongly for you as I thought I had" more times than your fragile heart could bare. So if you could just revel in Johnny's company from time to time but never expect for it to get to the point of broken hearts and longing, then maybe that was for the better.

But now here he is, ruining everything you'd done to protect yourself as the rain poured heavy against the Baxter building's window.

"I'm telling you, I'm ready. For more." He reached out to hold both your hands within his. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he was outside in the pouring rain freezing his ass off.

But that could never happen, how could Johnny ever know what the cold feels like. He's gotten everything he's ever wanted and never heard the word 'no.' Girls shout his name on the streets and faint over a mere wink in response. The same girls that save up their allowance to buy his heartthrob teen magazines the second they hit the stands. And, if they were lucky, the same girls that would get to spend a night in his arms.

No, he's never known what cold rejection feels like. Until now.

"That wasn't part of the plan." You said firmly. Your voice was vulnerable but held bite, like a wounded animal that doesn't want to fight but is more than ready to.

"Screw the plan. Who cares?" He said with a carefree shrug of his shoulders. His voice sounding like it should be the most obvious thing in the world, lacking all self awareness or responsibility.

"What was the point of the plan in the first fucking place then?" The disbelief at his words really started to sink in.

"What audacity do you have to make these rules and then just throw them out the window whenever you so please!" Your voice raised steadily as you spoke and cracked towards the end.

Johnny stuttered for a moment, his shoulders slacking as this clearly wasn't playing out how he'd imagined in his head. He wasn't expecting you to be defensive and he most definitely wasn't expecting you to curse at him. He'd been anticipating you to jump into his arms, he'd give you a twirl and kiss your cheek lovingly as he held you in his embrace, cementing you as finally officially being his.

And now here you were, trying to pull your hands out of his desperate clutch. But he only tightened his grip on them, like if he let go that would officially be the end of everything between you two.

"But... I don't understand." He sounded so hurt and dejected and you would have sympathized more if it didn't feel like he'd done all this to himself.

"I love you..."

The crack in his voice hit you straight in the heart, the desperation and fear laced throughout as he lowered his tone to become so subtle you second guessed if he'd even spoken those three words at all. You thought to yourself that you'd never heard him be so quiet before. Usually, he's the loudest one in the room, demanding the attention of everyone. But now, just between the two of you, his voice had never sounded so much like a scared little boy before. Not even during times when he'd been so close to death.

What should have been a beautiful moment only made you cringe, thinking back eight months ago when you'd first started spending time with Johnny. 'Don't expect me to be saying I love yous and all that mushy crap. Okay, darling?' And you'd agreed to this little arrangement, because it meant you wouldn't have to get hurt.

You didn't come into this expecting to change his playboy ways. You weren't sure if anybody truly could put out his spark. To Johnny, your first name might as well be a month of the year and your last name be a number ranging anywhere between 1 to 31.

But damn if there wasn't something so agonizingly different about you. The way you'd laugh, head thrown back and manicured palm thrown up to cover your smile. The way you could talk about anything and everything and never grow bored. The image of you sitting at your vanity, back to him as you brushed through your hair. The peaceful silence that would fall between you two as he watched you butter two pieces of toast. The way your fingers would brush up the taper of his neck and into his hair, lulling him into a sleep he never wanted to have to get up from because that would mean having to leave your bed. You'd even accumulated a few inside jokes along the way that made Johnny's heart flutter with the way it was like a secret language only you two knew how to speak.

An overwhelming wave of cold air washed over him, the hair on his arms standing on edge and a weird, foreign feeling sinking from his chest to his stomach. Suddenly, it felt like the world had been ever so slightly shifted off its axis and nothing felt right anymore. The colors in the world became muted and dull and lifeless.

But why?

What made you different than any other girl he'd entertained?

Why'd it feel like losing you meant losing a part of himself?

That's why he couldn't let go, no matter how much you tried to tug free from his grip. He was holding onto your hands so tightly that he didn't even acknowledge your attempts at retrieving them.

"Johnny, please..." You mumbled quietly, not wanting to escalate the situation further.

"No. No, I can't." His voice had never sounded so dejected and lost before.

"Johnny-"

"I'll prove it to you. I'll show you, everyday, how much I want you. Need you." He began to ramble desperately, not realizing that he was growing hotter with every passing word until you cried out with a shriek of pain.

Only then did he let go, and that's when he could see the pink hue to your delicate skin and the slight swelling that had already begun.

"I'm so sorry, you know I didn't mean to- I would never-" he started, his eyes softening with guilt at the fact that he had unintentionally hurt you.

But any plead and attempt to get you to listen was futile. You were already walking towards the door, not even bothering to grab your cardigan that was slung across the back of the couch. You stopped in front of the door, trying to think of something, anything to say. This could be the last time you stepped foot into the Baxter building, and you'd be lying if you said that realization didn't hurt your heart. But how were you supposed to feel when everything you'd tried to protect yourself from was being flipped onto its head?

It was only then, watching as you wordlessly stepped out and closed the door behind you, that Johnny realized this must be some sort of divine retribution. All the times he told girls he'd definitely call them, only to immediately throw out their handwritten notes with their numbers on them. All the times he'd snuck out of an apartment the second a girl would fall asleep. Or all the times he would just disregard any emotional conversation girls would try to have with him. Suddenly, he understood exactly how it felt to be pushed away, unappreciated, and to feel used. Like all his efforts were for nothing.

And for that, he couldn't even blame you for walking away.

“Someone’s up past their bedtime.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and turned around as Johnny entered the kitchen, “You’re one to talk.”

“Hey, I would like it known that I always come to the kitchen for a late-night snack. You, on the other hand, I have never seen here at this hour.”

You took a sip of your tea, “I couldn’t sleep. Thought a cup of tea would help, but a cup of tea has turned into,” you paused, counting in your head, “four.”

“Maybe you’re hungry.” Johnny walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the box of Lucky Charms.

“I don’t think a bowl of sugary cereal will help me sleep.”

“Suit yourself.” He opened the box and shoved a handful of cereal into his mouth then took a seat at the counter.

You joined him at the counter, taking the seat next to him, “That fight today was pretty brutal. You doing okay?”

He shrugged, “A little sore, but nothing too bad. I think Ben got the brunt of it.”

“It feels weird when you all have to leave and I just stay here.”

He grabbed another handful of cereal, “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like you all are risking your lives to protect everyone, and I just sit around and stare at a screen, it’s not like I’m important.”

Johnny’s expression turned serious, “Hey, you’re the one keeping the team safe. You’re watching our backs, letting us know as much as we can about whatever monster, alien, bad guy we’re fighting. You help Reed and Sue with their science stuff. Ben is always saying that you give great advice. You call me out when I’m doing something stupid. You protect us, so without you we wouldn’t be able to protect the city. I think that qualifies as important.”

Heat pricked at your cheeks, not used to Johnny being so earnest. He had paid you many compliments before, but you had never really paid them much attention. He was a flirt after all.

No longer wanting the attention on you, you changed the subject, “Do you enjoy being a superhero?”

“I do,” he paused for a moment, “but, if I’m honest, I do, on occasion, kind of miss being just a regular guy,” you chuckled and Johnny tilted his head in question, “What?”

“Sorry, I have a hard time imagining you as just a regular guy.”

He let out a chuckle of his own, “What, you think I could always burst into flames?”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. It’s just…I can’t imagine you as some regular guy walking down the street. You’re rather extraordinary, Johnny Storm, even without your powers.”

The pink blush that appeared on his cheeks made you smile.

“Uh—um, you sure you don’t want some?” He offered you the box of Lucky Charms.

You took the box from him and grabbed your own handful of cereal, popping a couple of pieces into your mouth, “God, I don’t know how you eat these all the time. They’re so sweet.”

“I like when things are sweet.”

Something hung in the air between you, but you couldn’t place what it was. Unable to take it a moment longer, you tossed a marshmallow in his face.

“Well, that was uncalled for.”

“You’re supposed to catch it, silly.”

Johnny could have melted at the sound of your laugh, “Okay, okay, I’m ready this time.”

You tossed another marshmallow, but Johnny missed it and it bounced off of his nose.

“Wait, wait,” Johnny sat up straight, “okay, go.”

The marshmallow hit the top of his head.

“Oops.”

“Yeah, that one was on you.” Johnny smirked.

“Hey!” You threw one at his chest and he dramatically fell to the floor.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!”

“Shh! Be quiet.” You laughed.

He stood up and took a couple paces away from you, “Let’s try going for distance.”

“Maybe we should master a short-hand toss first.”

“Humor me.”

And you did, until all of the marshmallows from the cereal box were scattered around the kitchen floor.

Masterlist : Taglist

Summery: Johnny gets a little revenge on Ben and it turns into something more

Warnings: BIG FAT BREEDING KINK

AN: Written for Rue, who donated to @minispidey 's ko-fi! If you donate $10 usd me or Angie will write you a 500 word drabble! I saw some people already donated, so if you want to cash in, hmu! Just some kind of evidence, like saying how much you donated and your name on donation

dividers by @bratfrag

Soft pillow sheets. Dim lighting. Sweat. Oh my god, so much sweat.

It started as revenge. Ben had put a fuck ton of salt into Johnny's portion of the food, making Johnny gag and choke until Reed grabbed him water. Of course he was fine, and of course Ben brought out new food for him, but their little friend war was far from over.

After dinner, Johnny dragged you into Ben's bedroom, threw you on the bed, lifted your skirt and drove his cock right into you.

You loved the stretch, the burn, you loved Johnny camping a hand over your mouth as you tried to stiffle a scream of pleasure and pain. It wasn't like you were dry; Johnny had been teasing you all evening. But the stretch, my god...

Now he'd lost all sense of control. Something about staking his claim on you in Ben's bed of all places. Sure, he knew you were his, but Ben was naturally a flirt, a charmer, just like Johnny was. He didn't miss Ben's compliment of your dress today.

But ben could compliment you. He could laugh and tease and charm all day long. It didn't matter because at the end of the day it was Johnny who got to watch your tight little cunt swallow him up next to torn pink panties.

"Johnny!" You gasp as his slightly curved cock hit that perfect spot right inside you. Your fingers desperately cling to his white shirt, briefly thinking you shouldn't muss him up too much but not having the wherewithal to follow through. HERBIE would have to steam his shirt and your dress real quick before you were presentable in front of Reed, Sue, and Ben again.

Right now, all you could think about was Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.

"What if I fill you up, baby? How 'bout that?" He huffs, breath hot on your neck between kisses and nipping bites. Everything about Johnny burned at a slight fever. His skin was always warm to the touch; nice in winter, less than ideal in summer. Every his actions burned at a firey blaze, anxious to see more, do more, run and fuck and swim and fly until the thirst for more, more was finally quenched.

But it wouldn't be. Johnny was all-consuming, the fire alight within him would never die out, even after you willingly gave over every part of you to the fire. Willingly, for it was the fire that kept you safe and warm. It was his passion for life that kept your own zeal burning hot.

Droplets of sweat prickled at your skin, and for a moment all you could see was a future with Johnny; you and Sue swapping pregnancy stories, Reed acting calm but running every test in the book. Uncle Ben chasing after your baby and cousin Franklin through the tower with HERBIE wheeling behind.

"Yes." You nod against him, face buried in his neck. "Johnny please"

A little gasp escapes him, and Johnny's body stills as he pushes up enough to look at you with wide eyes. "Wait, really?"

You give him a little smile and nod and watch as his face breaks with a wide grin. "Oh my god! I was just saying stuff to sound sexy! Well, not that I don't want to- but I didn't think you were ready to- OhmygodImputtingababyinyou"

Johnny went right back to work, hips snapping into you with more fervor now that you added gasoline to that inner fire, his hand pressing down on your stomach. "Gonna put a baby in you, let everyone know you're mine, my girl..." Your hand scrambled to find purchase, ripping the corner off one of Ben's sheets as you bit your lips to keep quiet. It wasn't working, but what did it matter when Johnny was rambling so fucking loud?

"My girl's gonna look so cute with my baby in her, a cute little bump, in cute little maternity- oh shit- can't wait to fuck you in one of those maternity dresses." He peppered kisses all over your smiling face as he began to stutter, losing his rhythm. "pretties girl in the whole fucking world."

Your fingers went into his blonde hair, nails scratching at his scalp the way you know he just loved, Johnny moaning in your ear as he filled you up. You could feel his hot seed stuffing you full, so fucking deep inside you it had to take, it just had to.

Johnny collapsed on the bed beside you, and for a moment no one spoke, just laid there realizing that if all went well, you were going to be parents.

"baby-" Johnny turned to you, ready to speak, but suddenly the door shock like someone was trying to open it. You were butt naked and didn't realize Johnny looked the door, so you scream. Johnny rolls over, his innate instinct to protect you, his body covering your modestly.

Ben called your name. "Johnny? What the hell are you guys doing."

Heat boiled under your skin, looking at Johnny like, 'do something!'

But there was nothing either of you could do.

His face slowly split into a smile as he looked at you, and both of you began laughing.

"GOD DAMMIT YOU TWO! THOSE WERE NEW SHEETS!"

thanks guys! Only other Johnny I have is Hits You Like a Train which is reader getting fucked by johnny sue reed and ben :)))

Please consider donating to the KOFI and getting a drabble! Ill do pedro pascal and oscar isaac characters, x men, super man, triple frontier and most star wars characters! Mostly write for men but sometimes women. I can do x character, x reader, and VERY into queer pairs such as trans characters or readers or queer relationships!

ding!

and my second batch of homemade apple cider donuts — that have just finished — is keeping me company. i have you a basket, freshly made, waiting by the door since you decided to drop by & visit. but…there is something i wanted to share with you first.

a story. or well, stories. but don’t worry! there’s some soup on the stove as well, for your extended stay. there is more than enough apple cider for the both of us - cold or warm. there’s also a showing of an old episode of Tales from the Crypt at ten o’clock!

i hope you’re just as excited as i am — to wipe off the dust of this book and open the pages to dive into a whole new - spooky, halloween - world.

🕯️ OCTOBER 3RD | a story about…rhett abbott & the curious babysitter with cat ears.

🕯️ OCTOBER 7TH | a story about…johnny storm & something about the saying ‘liar, liar, pants on fire!’.

🕯️ OCTOBER 10TH | a story about…steve harrington & the time it took three adults to watch a group of kids - or maybe a group of kids had to watch three adults, who knows.

🕯️ OCTOBER 14TH | a story about…adrian chase & the time he almost gave someone a heart attack — not only once. or twice.

🕯️ OCTOBER 17TH | a story about…eddie munson & how playing around might not always end up being the best idea.

🕯️ OCTOBER 21ST | a story about…bob floyd & the way he hates picking inside of a pumpkin.

🕯️ OCTOBER 24TH | a story about…ben mears & the strange person he meets on the way out of Salem’s Lot.

🕯️ OCTOBER 28TH | a story about…jake seresin & his little fairy princess who begs a certain someone to join in on the festivities.

🕯️ OCTOBER 31ST | a story about…james cook & the one time he doesn’t argue with the love of his life, but does end up with a sprained ankle and a ripped costume.

📺 SPECIAL SHOWING @ 10:00.

🕯️ super excited for this one - i hope you all are to! there might be an extra day thrown in there, who knows (i’m hoping!) but for now, this is my scheduling and characters i’m posting!

if you see any you’d like to be tagged in, comment or send something through my inbox letting me know which one(s) you’d like to read!

But gods, was your patience running thin. You couldn’t even appreciate whatever useless distraction had been arraigned to entertain you all. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Geta… and by extension her. 

You’re jaw clenches and you’re certain that whatever face you are making is not a pretty one. You try to pretend you are unbothered, but you have never been the subtle type. You know your face has curled into something between a sneer and an unbridled rage most foul.

Then she looks at you and you catch the smirk on her lips before her hand dips lower still, entering his robe, now touching skin to skin and you feel yourself growing hotter still with anger. You know your eyes must hold a murderous glint within them. You glance back at Geta and pause, a small gasp escaping your lips. He is already looking at you. He studies you in a way that makes you feel hot for a completely different reason. And then the corner of his mouth quirks up and he leans back, into her touch.

He is playing with a fire he knows won’t burn him. For a second, you almost feel bad for the poor girl. Unfortunate for her considering you are the jealous type. And now, she’ll have to face your wrath. 

When whatever was keeping everyone else’s attention is over, you give a customary clap, as if you’d been paying attention all along. But your eyes never leave Geta.

:::

You hear them before you see them. She is playing it up. Her moans are sharp and high pitched and it sounds fake. It’s too delicate. He’s quiet, and you know she must be doing all the work. Good. It means he’s bored.

As you slowly walk across the cool marble floor, your steps feather light and dead silent, they come into view. Through the drapery of his bed, you see her silhouette sat upon his lap, bouncing, ever the pleaser. She seems desperate for approval and it gives you a sick sense of relief that she has to try so hard. But of course, she is disposable. You are the only permanent fixture in his life. You are the only one he will always want, though tease you he might.  

He’s cruel like that. He derives joy from watching you squirm your way through pretending to be a good girl. Of pushing you to the edge of your restraint and watching you topple over the edge. And he would see you topple. Only to dive after you. This was your push and pull. THIS was foreplay. 

The blade in your hand glitters in the soft lighting of the room. A beautiful, glaring threat they can’t see; a brutal, awful weapon thirsty for blood, and you would quench its thirst yet.

You pull the soft, silken drapings to the side and step down into the space his bed occupied. They are clear now, no longer silhouettes but now flesh and blood in front of you. So unaware. Unprepared for the carnage coming her way. You are right behind her now, the heat of their bodies palpable, her pretty tunic still on, though barely concealing any of her body. You mourn for the fabric briefly, knowing it won’t be salvageable after this. 

She tilts her head back, eyes closed, moan on her lips, and your eyes catch Geta’s just in time. Poor girl never sees it coming. You raise the dagger, quick and sharp, your other hand tangling into her hair as you hold her in place and then slice.

Gold metal cuts through flesh easily, and her blood sprays everywhere. Geta closes his eyes just in time for blood to splatter across his face in a thin red layer. But it’s the beautiful silken bedsheets that take the brunt of the spray and it is such a beautiful sight to you. 

She tries to scream but nothing comes out, all she can do is open her mouth in pitiful silence. You barely bother her a glance as you pull her hair a little harder and pull her body from the bed. The only look you spare her is as she sprawls on the floor, choking on her blood, confused and scared. And then you turn back to him. 

He slowly opens his eyes, his body soaked in her blood, his nostrils flared, and his cock hard and throbbing against his abdomen. But he remains quiet, eyes hot as he watches you. You tug your tunic down from around your shoulders and let it drop quietly to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. His eyes darken and you don’t hesitate to stalk towards him. Crawling over top of him slow and steady, you lick a line up his chest, the metallic taste of blood coating your tongue. 

Slowly moving farther up until your face hovers over his. Your breath fans his face as you wait for him to make the next move, teasing him with your presence. 

He growls something animalistic, fingers tangling in your hair, and he smashes your mouths together. The sting of pain already pleasurable in its own right. He kisses you like he’s starving. Like there’s not enough of you in the world for him to be satisfied. You grind down onto him and his grip on your hair pulls a little harder. You let out a high pitched whine and he bites your lower lip in response. 

Desperation claws at you, demanding you push him more. Force him to do all the terrible wonderful things he’ll only do to you. For you. You pull back slightly to stare at the dark look in his eyes, before pulling yourself up farther into a sitting position.

You glance over your shoulder and the pitiful girl. She’s moved slightly, slipping around uselessly in her own blood, as if she could escape. But blood loss would take her faster than any help would come. She wasn’t looking at you anymore, so you’d have to make sure she heard you. She’d learn her place before she left this world.

You lift yourself on your knees and grab his cock, slowly aligning it to your entrance before lowering yourself down. 

“Is this what you’re into now?” You finally speak when you are fully seated upon him. He grits his teeth, hands shooting out to grab hold of your hips.

“Don’t…” he voice is threatening and you can’t help the smile it brings to your face. You give an experimental lift and fall and let out the fakest, loudest, most mocking moan you can manage. Then you began to bounce in earnest, each time playing up your reactions, putting on an exaggerated version of the show you walked in on. 

“Oh Emperor Geta!” You mewl in an over-the-top pathetic tone which dissolves into a cruel laughter. This seems to be the final straw. 

“Enough!” Geta’s hands on your hips suddenly get a bruising grip. Behind you, you feel him brace his legs and suddenly he is thrusting up into you hard as he simultaneously slams you down. This time, the choked out scream that leaves you isn’t performative. You expect him to do it again, but he holds you there instead. He grinds into you ruthlessly and you desperately squirm on his lap as he hits something inside of you.

“Flithy woman,” He groans as you're made speechless, barely even able to breathe. You nod your head in agreement, a motion that comes off as slightly desperate within itself. But not the kind of desperation to please that the other woman was showing. No. This is a desperation only you can get away with. A desperation to be pleased, by only one man. By him. And by the way his nostrils flair and he gets a sort of feral look in his eyes, he knows it too. And he likes it. 

He pulls out suddenly and then he’s flipping you around, until you are on your back cushioned in fine, hand embroidered silks. Likely all ruined now. You’ll burn them later just to get rid of the last remnants of her. They are warm and wet with her blood and you feel it coat your skin, the sensation sending goosebumps up your arms. Before you can even whine over the loss of him, he thrusts back inside roughly. Your body convulses in pleasure as an orgasm catches you by surprise. You throw your head back and a scream rips from your throat. This is how it should sound. Violent and passionate. Natural. Not performative. 

“Fuck! So sensitive.” He growls out, grinding into you while you cum. “Did the act of spilling blood get you that worked up?”

His voice was taunting and a little mean and you loved it. You nod your head, unable to form words. He pulled out slowly, relishing your pathetic little mewl, before slamming back into you. You gasp out as the breath gets knocked from your lungs. But he doesn’t let up, he does it again.

“You’re such a jealous whore, know that?” Geta bares his teeth and his tongue juts out slightly, as if willing himself not to blow his load early. You go to nod your head again, but this isn’t enough to please him. His hand shoots out and closes around your throat. He brings his face in close to yours and listens to your choking gasps for air.

“Speak woman.” He slows his hips to an excruciating pace, that has you bucking your hips for more. His hand squeeze tighter around your throat in warning. “Speak.”

“Yes. Yes.” Your voice comes out as a hiss. “Sh-she should be grateful her last moments were in your presence. But she needed to learn her place. She needed to learn MINE!” 

You’re practically growling. Speaking of her was beginning to piss you off. You want him to only think of you. She is gone now. She is NOTHING!

“And what is that exactly?” He punctuates his question with another strong thrust before slowing down again. He is mocking you now. Forcing you to keep talking. You groan out in frustration.

“I am rightfully yours,” you moan out. “I am just yours. She is some common run of the mill whore. Expendable. But I am yours to keep.”

“Are you now? How presumptuous.” He stops all movement and pulls his body away but remains inside of you. His hand leaves your throat and you practically scream in annoyance. He is pushing you again. But two can play at this game.

“The-then should I leave, Emperor Geta.” You pant as you slowly lift yourself onto your elbows. The movement causes him to pull out of you ever so slightly. “Should I go and find your brother? He has always been jealous of you when it comes to me. Shall I finally let him find out what he’s been miss-“

His hand shot back out, twining into your hair and tugging harshly. His hims slammed back forward, aggressively pushing in as far as he could go. You cried out at the pain, while he twisted your head to make sure you could do nothing else but look at him.

“Do not speak of Caracalla whilst I am inside of you. You’re MINE. Say it. SAY IT!” He yelled.

“I thought… that was just a presumption of mine.” You grit out, the pain on the back of your scalp searing. But your blatant stubbornness just sets him off further and he pulls out until just the tip of his cock remains and then fucks back into, his pace completely unforgiving.

“You are a wanton, despicable, vixen.” He punctuates each word with a thrust. “But Caracalla cannot have you. I’m sure you would be satisfied with any cock inside you, but no man can have you. You belong only to me.”

You cry out at his words, a sense of power washing over you. His pace is brutal, his cock spearing you open. Finally he is giving you exactly what you want, a complete and total claiming. It was quickly turning your mind to mush and you were having some trouble understanding exactly what he was saying beyond saying you were his.

“N-nno. No! I- mmmm- I don’t want him… don’t want anyone but you. Mm yours. Only yours.”

He let out a sadistic laugh in response.

“You played that well, I'll give you that. Fine, as a reward, I’ll let you show her why you are special and she is not.” He pulled out of you suddenly, manhandling your body, pulling and then pushing you forward, until your chest hit the mattress where your feet had previously been. You faced outward, and now you had a perfect view of her. 

She’s still alive. But just barely. Blood pulses from her neck and gurgles from her mouth weakly. She can no longer move it seems, and she had stopped in a position that left her unable to look away from the two of you. She’s halfway up a half step, back laying against it, like she’d intentionally turned to look at you. Perhaps to beg you for her life. You can’t quite help the sadistic smile that spreads across your face as you look at her.

Behind you, Geta repositions himself and pushes back in. And then he fucks you fervently. He’s almost animalistic in his intensity. The types of sounds he’s releasing behind you barely even sound human. Growls and groans that sound like music to your ears. 

You are faring no better. But you relish in it. Every moan and scream you can’t control is the perfect backdrop to finally showing that bitch what her place actually is. She is beneath you. And until the light left her eyes, she would come to understand that.

You cum a second time. Then a third. Still he continues on. You are barely coherent when you cum for the fourth time, but it is the sight of the light finally leaving her eyes that pushes you over the edge. Maybe that’s what finally does it for him too as he slams into you one final time, and holds himself there, cum spilling into you, hot and all yours.

Finally when he pulls out, he manhandles you onto your back. Your skin is slippery with red ichor, and soon you will want to wash it from your person. But for now, you  acquiesce to his movements and lay with him in the soiled sheets.

“Must you always bring these poor girls into the mix? I’m beginning to feel bad, with how little of a chance they have.” Your voice is slightly rough from screaming, but it also lacks any real sense of regret or guilt that would make your statement genuine. “Of course they should consider themselves lucky for their final moments to be with you.”

“Hmmm, but you know I love you best when you are at your most ruthless. It’s more fun to watch you submit that way.” Geta responds like the whole thing is rather funny, and you give a small roll of your eyes you know he can’t see but laugh along with him.

Geta’s hand comes down to tug at your chin and lift your mouth ever so slightly before kissing you much softer than he had earlier. It was almost domestic. You pull away slightly to look at him. 

"Shall we call the servants in to clean up the mess. And you can take me again in the bath.” A slow, seductive smile spreads across your face.

He returns the look with one of his own.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Alright. The scanner is all set, I'm ready when you are," Reed announced, turning around halfway on his stool to look at you through his thick frame glasses. "Are you comfortable there?"

"I am, actually," you smiled, settling back until your full body rested on the soft leather surface, which, surprisingly, began to warm slowly beneath you. "It's ... warm."

A smile almost ghosted his mouth, but he turned back to the sphered monitor before it could fully form. “Sue tends to get cold in here. I believe adding this feature will make her more inclined to agree to my scans.”

You only gave him a knowing smile. Reed was… Reed, after all.

He wasn’t always able to express care with words, his sentences were more likely to contain statistics or hyper logical reasoning about even the tiniest of details no one noticed or cared about, but his actions spoke louder than words. It was all about the little accommodations, the quiet fixes, the way he noticed discomforts around the building before anyone voiced them. This time was no exception, he didn't think twice about adding a heating feature to the scanner’s seat when his wife had complained about the lab feeling like a freezer last time.

"I bet it's not warmer than me, though," a voice chimed in next to you, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Ah, yes … Johnny.

Your ever loving boyfriend, who couldn’t stand being more than ten minutes away from you and insisted on being present for this “fake scan” so he could practice holding your hand for future real ones.

Because in his mind, you were in his future that way, not a single doubt about that.

The baby making. Especially, the baby making. The big surprise. The bun in the oven. The endless scans for ultrasound pictures he’d stick to the glass windows of your shared bedroom. The restless nights outweighed by the giggles from a little him ... a little you.

Not today, but maybe one day.

Definitely one day.

And in that hothead of his, he thought what better preparation than watching his brother in law micromanage Sue’s pregnancy through you? At least he could have a little fun with it.

So, naturally, Johnny invited himself to the session. Dragging an extra stool to the lab, sliding on your right side, elbows braced on the platform. His hand found yours as soon as you set your body down.

"You know I can warm you up anytime you want, babe," Johnny shrugged innocently, but his tone was playful as always.

You turned to him amused, a smile already on his face as he leaned definitely way too close to your face, and quickly stole a peck from your lips, earning a soft laugh from you.

Reed sighed next to you, wishing he'd asked you to try the machine in the early hours of the morning before Johnny even woke up. It was his fault after all, he should've known better than bringing it up in front on him. Now he'd have to make it work while you got distracted by ... your distraction.

You instantly noticed his demeanor shift, and gently slipped your hand from Johnny's grasp to lay it flat on the bed, blowing a kiss to him when he opened his mouth to complain. He instantly grinned in triumph, pretending to catch it and placed it over his heart. At least that would keep his hands to himself for a moment.

"All ready now, Reed," you said, offering him an apologetic smile, and he nodded.

"Okay, we're ready to begin. Please just don’t talk," Reed said, his eyes on the display as he pressed buttons, "and try to avoid any unnecessary movement, both of you," he turned slightly, looking over his glasses to glare at your hovering boyfriend.

Which was, unfortunately, a straight dare for Johnny to lean closer against the platform beside you, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin.

"You hear that babe? No unnecessary movement. Don't breathe, not even a little," he said in the most serious tone he could use. "... except if you wanna, you know, lean on me a little," he winked, then nudged your shoulder with his. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You tried not to smile this time when he wiggled his eyebrows, for the sake of the test and the remaining of Reed's sanity, which only made him grin wider.

"Johnny," Reed scolded without looking up, "I need her still, and I need quiet so I can concentrate."

"Hey, I'm just here to supervise," Johnny protested. "Make sure you're not poking her with anything weird."

If there was something Johnny loved almost as much as you and space, it was rage baiting his brother in law. And the worst part was, that no matter how incredibly intelligent Reed was, it seemed to work every single time.

"I'm not poking her with anything,” Reed snapped, sighing afterward. "Can you at least step back a little so I can–"

"Nuh-uh, not a chance in the world," Johnny interrupted. "I'm here for emotional support, you know, a dad being present –Ow. Babe!" you elbowed him lightly in the ribs, which made him gasp.

"First of all, you're not a father. This is purely for data gathering purposes," Reed objected without missing a beat, "and you're only here because you followed her in.”

"Yeah yeah, semantics, whatever," Johnny shrugged, raising a hand to dismiss him and turned to you. "Hey, you hungry, princess? I could get you something."

"I'm fine, Johnny," you shook your head, smiling at the gesture, then raising your hand to press a finger on his lips. "Now, shh."

You caught Reed rubbing the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how he should have asked literally any other woman in the planet who didn't have Johnny Storm joint at their hip.

"The sequence is starting now. I just need five minutes," he sighed for the fourth time in three minutes, and then pressed a few more buttons, his posture stiffening. "Please Johnny, just five, no more talking."

"Alright, alright. I can be quiet for five minutes," he raised his hands in surrender, finally leaning back.

It lasted five whole seconds.

"So," he began, leaning toward you again. "Tell me about the first time you saw me."

You sighed at the question Johnny liked to ask at least once a week. You were happy to answer it every time, just not in front of his brother in law. So you put a hand on his chest to push him back a little, before Reed's patience snapped completely.

"Johnny, angel, you know what? Actually I am hungry," you said, playing with the fabric of his shirt. "I am craving some oranges."

"Oranges?" Johnny's whole demeanor shifted, still grinning, but now with that eagerness to please you sparkling in his eyes.

"Yes, fresh ones," you nodded, slightly biting your lip. "Pretty please?"

“You got it, fresh ones from the market," he grabbed your hand from his chest and placed a kiss on it, making you chuckle once again.

Why was he so annoyingly sweet?

Satisfied with your reaction, he got up from his stool, the little seat's wheels rolling back as he made his way to the elevator's doors. Not without turning around halfway, looking at you while pointing accusingly at Reed.

"Don't let him poke you with needles or draw blood from you. I will sue," then he winked at you, backing to the elevator. "Give me five minutes, ten tops."

And after a shameless wink, the elevator doors slid closed, and he was gone. Leaving a very relieved Reed alone with his scan and you trying very hard not to laugh at the way he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath under water this whole time.

"Thank you," he said genuinely, turning back to his controls. You just hummed in acknowledgment.

You held your breath as the machine made a louder hum, a halo of pale blue light swept over you from head to toe.

"You can breathe normally," Reed said, noticing your stillness. "Just don't move anything else, please."

You let your gaze wander over the colorful room while the scanner did the work. There were gadgets on every counter, Sue's latest ultrasound printed and stuck on the corner of Reed's giant blackboard, a mug that said 'Fantastic dad' that Johnny told Ben to buy Reed as a joke but he wholeheartedly gave it to the man. You smiled at the memory.

The thought of Sue and Reed’s baby being there in a just a months was amazing and terrifying at the same time, and it wasn’t even yours.

And now that Johnny wasn't hovering anymore, and Reed's focus was solely on the screen in front of him, the quiet of the room allowed you to think about what Johnny said earlier.

'A dad being present'

There was a time where you thought something like that was impossible due to his altered DNA, but Sue and Reed had shown you the possibility was still there.

And the more you thought about it, the more it made you want to build that with Johnny. It wasn't a crazy idea, not at all, but it was something you'd projected into the far future.

Definitely one day.

"Huh," Reed's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen.

"Something wrong with the machine?" you asked, trying to not make a big fuss about it, it was a new equipment after all.

He didn't answer immediately. Just tapped his keyboard twice, then leaned even closer, eyes squinting and his whole expression sharpening. The scanner made another low pass over your midsection.

"Hmm," there it was, another weird monosyllable.

"That's a suspicious 'hmm'," you said, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Not suspicious at all," Reed said quickly. "Just interesting ... please lean back down, it's not done."

His fingers moved over the console again, adjusting settings. The scanner passed over you once more, slower this time, and you noticed a small, unconscious shift in his posture. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, blinked at the display, then adjusted the image like maybe the machine had made a mistake.

Again.

"Okay, you're being really weird now. Even for you, Reed," you half joked, hoping that would ease the sudden nerves invading your body.

"I just … wasn't expecting to see–" he paused, hesitating, glancing toward the door as if Johnny might burst in at any second.

"See what?" you pressed, fully panicking now.

The machine beeped softly with results for the third time, like it was confirming whatever he'd already noticed the first. Then Reed suddenly stood up from his stool and paced in his spot, folding his arms.

"There are certain... biological markers. In fact, they're very specific markers. I'd like to run the scan one more time to confirm."

"No. No more scans," you fully sat up now, suddenly understanding Sue's dread of those. "Just tell me, is there something wrong with me?"

Your tone actually made him jerk his head in your direction, shaking his head profusely.

"No," his voice was quiet but certain. Not comforting either, though. "No, absolutely not."

"Then what is it?"

Reed hesitated, eyes fixing back on the screen. "It's... actually the opposite," he said slowly. His voice wasn't that detached this time, it was still Reed, still cautious, but there was something... warmer underneath.

"Something right, then?"

"Quiet for a moment," he mumbled, pressing the console again. "I want to be sure."

So you stayed still, your heartbeat ringing a little faster in your ears. The scanner made one last pass over your body, beeping one last time with the same results apparently, because Reed stepped back, took a long breath, and blinked a few times like he was pulling himself back into the room with you.

He wasn't exactly expecting to be the first to find out about... that. Now how on earth was he supposed to break news like that? None of his infinite doctorates qualified him to do so.

Reed stalled for a few more seconds, before reaching to the sphere monitor and rotating it in your direction.

"Look at that," he said, pointing to the screen, his voice slightly softer than usual.

On the screen, a small flicker pulsed steadily in the center of a grainy blue and white colored image. You stared at it for a few seconds.

Was that? … No. No it couldn't be.

"...My heartbeat?" you chuckled weakly, because the alternative your head was suggesting was just not possible.

Not right now. Definitely not right now.

Reed arched a brow, his gaze instantly softening. He knew how this part felt. The first moments of denial. The surreality of it. So he approached it as gentle as his capabilities allowed him to.

None of his education had prepared him for something like this, but you were family, even more so now, so he tried his best to use his heart this time instead of his brain. As absurd as that sounded to someone like him.

"It is a heartbeat, and technically, it's yours too. Or, well, more like a part of you."

You stared at it again. That flicker. The steady, insistent beat. You knew what it meant, of course you did, but the words got stuck in your throat and refused to come out.

"Look," Reed took off his glasses, pointing with the frames higher up in the torso scan. "Your heartbeat is here," and then pointed back lower, "and this one is smaller ... much smaller."

Reed studied your face as you kept quiet, something warm blooming in his chest despite his usually clinical nature.

Two 'fantastic babies' this year. Huh. He hadn't seen that coming. Couldn't have predicted it with equations in a million years.

"Okay," you said finally, too casually.

"Just okay?" Reed almost chuckled this time. "You do understand what I'm showing you, correct?"

"Yeah. I... yeah," you nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath. "I'm ..."

But you didn't say it. Couldn't. Because saying it out loud would make it real. And right now, you weren't ready for real. Not without Johnny by your side.

Right. Johnny.

Who wasn't there to hold your hand through it.

Oh my God. How were you gonna tell him?

He was, after all, your emotional support. But who was gonna be his when you were panicking? Oh my god. What if he panics too? Would he be ready? Would you be ready?

All of a sudden, that 'one day' wasn't so far away anymore.

You didn't even notice your breathing had gone shallow until Reed's voice caught your attention.

"Breathe," he said, not commanding, more like a reminder.

"I am breathing," you looked up at him, chest going up and down rapidly.

"Not enough," he replied. Then, in a move that was so unlike him, he reached for your hand. His palms were warm, not as warm as the ones you were used to, but it helped somehow. His hands pressing yours just enough to let you know he wasn't letting go unless you wanted him to.

"Follow me," he said. He took a slow inhale, visibly lifting his chest, and let it out in a slow exhale. "Again."

You tried your best. Inhale. Exhale. It died in your throat halfway out a few times. But he waited, patient as ever, until you tried again. And again. Until the fifth breath felt a little less jagged.

"It's normal to be scared," he said, when your breathing slowed down. "When Sue told me she was pregnant, I–I almost passed out. And that was after two years of planning for it."

Instantly realizing what he confessed, he cleared his throat, before looking at you more serious for a moment.

"Don't tell Johnny," he asked.

A shaky laugh escaped you, and it loosened something in your chest. You shook your head in reassurance. He nodded grateful.

"I know this is... a big pill to swallow. Terrifying, even. But it doesn't have to be faced alone."

Your eyes got glassy before you could stop them.

"We're all a family," Reed continued, repeating what was always said by the others, not much by him, if ever. "Which means your child will never have to go without place to feel like home, or without love. Not with all of us around."

A tear did fall from on your cheek this time, and you let go of his grip to wipe it before Johnny came back.

Oh, Johnny.

Just thinking about him being a father, a dad who is present, his blonde disheveled hair at midnight as he warms baby bottles with his own hands, a tiny bundle sleeping on his chest enjoying the impossible warmth irradiating from his skin. Him playing peek a boo with the funniest faces he can think of.

And for the first time since you saw that flicker on the screen, you believed, if only for a second, that maybe this wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I'm pregnant," you finally said it, the foreign words leaving your lips in a whisper.

Reed's eyes softened, the smallest smile forming in his mouth.

"You're pregnant," he echoed, just as quietly, like repeating it would help you both absorb the reality. He straightened a little, half turning to his machine. "I'd still like to make some more formal scans–"

"Reed."

"I know, I know. Sorry," he apologized, letting out a dry chuckle while shrugging, "but it's ... protocol."

"I'm telling you, Herbert, those oranges were not fresh. That guy was totally lying ... Yeah right? I know. Unbelievable."

Your head snapped at the sound of HERBIE's robotic beeps and Johnny's muffled voice echoing behind the elevator doors, as they arrived to the lab's floor.

"–and so I had to use my charm on the girl next to him, one smile and she went straight to get me the good ones ... I know Herbert, I know, but you have to do what you have to do."

The doors slid open in a ding, revealing a very excited Johnny walking in, toying with an orange from one hand to another as HERBIE trailed behind him holding something you couldn't see from your seat.

"Ah, there you are." Johnny smiled as soon as his eyes landed on you, "now, what did I miss?"

You looked at Reed for a brief second, at the verge of panicking again, but he mouthed a 'just breathe', gesturing with his hand a swift inhale. So you did that, as Johnny crossed the lab until he got to the stool he was previously sat in, with the little droid following him like a lost puppy.

"Got 'em! Did you miss me, babe?" he asked, plopping into his seat.

"I always do," you mumbled, absentmindedly reaching to the orange he was holding, to try to distract yourself with something. "Thank you, Johnny–"

Before you could reach, he yanked back his hand with a laugh. "Don't be silly, this one is for me. Here–"

He turned halfway to HERBIE behind him, and grabbed with his free hand something from the droid's hands, petting his metal head before turning back to offer it to you.

You lowered your eyes at the plate he was holding to you. Probably two oranges, sliced, and placed nicely around the dish. The citrus scent hit you and half scratched that itch you've been having about oranges lately, which ... made a lot of sense now.

"These are for you, bite sized. I'm gonna tell you now, got the best ones in the city," he leaned down to kiss your forehead, and added with a cocky grin, "go on, tell me I'm amazing."

He was. God, he was.

But it wasn’t the oranges what hit you the most, it was the way Johnny went about it. How you wouldn't need to feel scared, or not ready, when he was willing to take on even the smallest of requests with intention, just to put a smile on your face.

So you couldn't hold it together any longer, and lunged forward to wrap your arms around his neck, the plate of oranges falling from his hand to your lap, small slices scattering across the platform. You buried your head in his neck, not being able to hold the tears anymore. Johnny instinctively wrapped his arms around your body, a hand still holding his orange for dear life as he stared confused at Reed.

“Woah– what happened baby?” he asked softly, bringing his free hand to stroke your hair as you cried into his chest. “What did you do, Richards?” His tone got weirdly serious now, even for Johnny.

“Me? N-nothing!” Reed blurted offended, which only made Johnny glare at him.

“Did Reed lecture you about moving during the scan? I told you, babe, you don’t have to listen to him when I’m not here.”

Reed’s mouth opened to protest, but chose to keep quiet. He glanced at you, still clinging to Johnny for dear life. He took a deep breath. He knew what this was like, so he just let Johnny continue until you chose to tell him.

“She was okay when I left, and now she’s crying in my arms –hey hey, it’s okay baby– so what could have possibly happened while I was gone?”

His tone to Reed was serious, but when he looked down at you it got incredibly softer. You sniffed a few times, pulling apart from him to wipe your eyes and give him a teary smile.

“I’m fine, Johnny, really,” you reassured, sniffing again, “It’s just … I don’t–“ you looked at Reed, nodding at him so he could help you a little.

Reed took off his glasses, and folded his hands behind his back in that way that meant ‘I’m about to say something big and I’m choosing my words carefully’. You just kept your gaze on Johnny.

“The scan revealed some … unexpected results.”

Well, so much for choosing your words carefully.

“Unexpected like… bad unexpected, or ‘hey, you have an extra kidney’ unexpected?” Johnny asked, squinting.

“Having an extra kidney would be bad unexpected too, Johnny,”

“We could always get it out and sell it,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes playfully to make you laugh, and when you inevitably did, relief washed over his face for a second.

Okay, it couldn’t be that bad if he was able to make you laugh after that breakdown. His heart could calm down a little now.

“Well, actually… neither,” Reed said.

His gaze shifted between the two of you before settling on the monitor that was still facing your direction. Johnny glanced at the screen, still expecting to see that third kidney. Instead, he tilted his head and his eyebrows pulled together.

“Huh,” he exhaled.

Funny, his first reaction was identical to Reed’s.

You watched him stare at the screen, and you could almost see the gears turning under all that blonde hair. Because Johnny Storm was a lot of things, loud, playful, endlessly distracting, but he was also sharp. And he wasn’t missing what was right in front of him.

Two heartbeats.

“Is uh– Is that what I think…?” his eyes flicked to you, you were already smiling, still glassy eyed holding the lump in your throat. “Oh my god.”

His mouth fell open a little, eyes darting between Reed, you and the small flicker on the screen for a few times, before it hit him all at once. He finally let go of the orange in his hand, the fruit hitting the floor in a few thuds.

Johnny’s face lit up like sunlight getting through grey clouds. Even HERBIE beeped in awe.

“OH MY GOD!!”

The grin that broke over his face made your heart flutter. He cupped your face in his warm hands before you could even wipe your eyes.

“Babe. Babe,” he chanted enthusiastically, his forehead pressed to yours, voice dropping to a breathless laugh. “We’re having a baby. Oh my god! We’re having a baby! … Herbert I’m gonna be a father!”

You let out a laugh that was half sob, half immense happiness, nodding against him.

He crashed his lips to yours, salty tears mixing in your lips as he kissed you softly, lips slightly pulling back from how wide you both were smiling.

In front of you, Reed stood with his arms crossed, the loveliest smile tugging at his mouth. For once, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t feel like adding facts or disclaimers. He simply turned back to the console and gave you both the moment.

That was, until Johnny pulled apart from you, realizing how you had just lit his whole world on fire and he was more than willing to stand in the middle of all of it.

“Okay,” Johnny said, still holding your face, “this is fine. This is more than fine. This is … this is amazing.”

“Johnny, I think we should–” you began, but he was already in motion, pacing next to you.

“First of all, we need to stock on food, for all the weird pregnancy cravings you’re gonna have. You want pickles dipped in ice cream? boom, Johnny delivers,” he gestured dramatically with his hands in the air.

Reed sighed, rubbing his temple while mumbling something about Johnny speaking in third person.

“Johnny–“

“And the baby’s room. We’ll paint it… okay, we don’t know boy or girl yet, but that’s fine, we’ll go with something neutral. Like… fire yellow … no, wait, that’s too on the nose. Sky blue? Maybe it could be space themed! … babe they can go to space with us one day, maybe Reed can make a baby space suit–“

“I am not sending your baby, or any baby for that matter, to space, Johnny.” Reed interrupted flatly, wishing you could go back to hugging and not this unprompted rambling.

“Johnny, angel, maybe we should–“

“Oh, and the clothes, babe the clothes! Little tiny onesies with flames on them. Reed, you have to make them in fireproof clothing, how else is it gonna be safe for me to hold them?”

“Johnny!” you leaned forward to put your hands on his chest and gently dragged him towards you. “Can we maybe process this before we start designing the nursery?”

He stopped mid ramble, eyes fixing on yours. And for the first time since Reed dropped the news, he hesitated. “Wait, you’re… okay with this? I mean, I’m over the moon, obviously, but… are you?”

You exhaled, reaching to fix a strand of his hair. “Johnny there’s nothing I want more in this life, than to have a family with you,” you reassured, meaning every single word, “but we didn’t even know about this ten minutes ago.”

Johnny’s smile softened. He grabbed your hand and lifted it to his lips, holding a kiss there for a moment.

“Okay. We’ll do this together, slowly, as a family,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and this time you were the one who jumped at his lips.

This time it was a bit rougher, clinging to him with fists clenched on his shirt, like putting all the overwhelming weight of it all into the kiss. Reed, who was still there, cleared his throat before you started making another baby right there and then. On his new scanner. That he built for his wife but now it would work for you too.

He was gonna have to get used to Johnny hovering all the time now.

“You should both take some more proper tests to confirm everything is okay with your baby, before making any further plans.”

“Yeah, yeah, Reed,” Johnny dismissed, already wrapping an arm around your waist to help you come down the platform, and guide you toward the door, but he halted midway. “Wait both? why me? I swear to god Richards, if you poke me–“

“No one is going to poke any of you here, Jonathan. Ever. I already told you, and it sure as hell won’t be me if it’s ever required,” Reed rolled his eyes, already relieved to see you both make your way to the elevator so he could work in peace.

He could only be happy for so long, before his mind inevitably went to overthink about how on earth you were all going to survive two super babies at the same time. But before he could get lost in his head, Reed turned to thank HERBIE, who was humming cheerfully to himself as he picked up the orange slices from the table. The little droid then rolled toward you, offering the plate with a chirp.

“Thank you, HERBIE,” you smiled, and Johnny pet his head in gratitude.

“Alright, we’ll do all that science stuff later, Reed. Right now…” He glanced down at you, his lovely grin back in full force. “I’m getting my girl more snacks ... and maybe also ice cream. Just in case that pickle phase hits early.”

Even behind all the joking and amusement in his face, the glint in his eyes quietly told you he was looking at the most important thing in the whole universe. Those two heartbeats.

But no, it wasn’t just two heartbeats after all.

Because with Johnny by your side, it was three.

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Extras: johnny + baby fever | johnny + carrying a baby | johnny + being a girl dad or boy dad

Part two is on the way ✨let me know if you want to be tagged!

"Right, right," Eddie huffs through a smirk. "Of course."

A large, ringed hand leaves your hip to sneak under the tiny top of your cheerleading uniform, gripping at your bra covered breasts.

"You're so handsy." You huff, but your head leans further back when the tip of his cock nudges at your g-spot.

"Mm..." He hums. "But you like it."

"I don't like you." You spit.

"Oh but you like me enough to fuck you?"

"I - ngh - I tolerate you."

"Sure." Eddie leans up from where he was hovering over the span of your back to flip up your dark green skirt.

He groans at the sight of a ring your creamy arousal forming on his shaft. His pelvis is soaked with your fluids. He's starting to think yours and his definition of 'tolerate' is different.

"You're such a pervert!" You cry when he presses right between your shoulder blades to pin you down to the floor of his van.

"You know what I think, princess?" He says, completely disregarding your insults.

"I think you've never had a man that could - oh shit," You clench down, causing him to choke. "That could shut you up."

He watches, mesmerized as he goes in, and out, and in, and out...

"You're always calling the shots, telling people to do things." He closes the gaps between your bodies to allow his lips to caress the shell of your ear.

You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath, his brunette locks fanning around your face, blanketing you.

He smells like weed and cheap cologne, and you're fucking drowning in it; but you'd rather eat shit and die before telling him that.

"Unfortunately for you, my queen bee, this isn't the hallways of Hawkins. You're in my turf."

He punctuates his point with another chest punching thrust that sends you further into the stained carpet.

"You ever think your little cheer mates wonder why my van is still here?" Another thrust. "Do you think they'd piece it together? Care enough to notice how you disappear ten minutes before you're supposed to?"

"Lucky for you, snake charmer," He continues. "I'm rather good at keeping secrets. Y'know, 'word is bond' and all that honorary stuff."

"I'm the one that can't stop talking?" You huff out with a delirious grin. "You're all talk."

You're so close, and you'd be lying if you said his words aren't inching you closer to your end.

"Oh yeah?" He challenges.

"Yeah."

The van's already warm, what's a little more heat between friends?