merrikattrash92 - Tumblr blog

merrikattrash92 · 20 days ago

Text

seriously - johnny storm x reader

synopsis: you and johnny take advantage of an empty baxter building. but you don't expect sue to catch you in the act.

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, a lil bit smutty but nothing too explicit, established relationship, getting caught (almost?)

a/n: i watched the original fantastic four when i was eight and that is all i'm going off on. don't know what compelled me to write this, but here we are :)

Johnny loves sneaking you into the Baxter Building despite there being absolutely no need to. You're practically part of the family. You have a spot at the dinner table, your toothbrush resides in the bathroom, and H.E.R.B.I.E. asks about you when you're gone too long. But Johnny still gets a thrill from the hushed voices and tiptoeing around as if you were some forbidden outsider.

It's winter in New York, and the city is covered in a thin blanket of snow. The building is empty when you and Johnny arrive, except for H.E.R.B.I.E. wandering around the living room. The other three are out doing errands and won't be back for a while.

Recognising the potential of your situation, Johnny takes your hand and leads you to his room. Once inside, he shuts the door and lays you down on his bed. His body immediately covers yours. He pulls the duvet over the both of you, shielding you from the cold as he settles in the space between your legs.

He leans in and begins peppering kisses anywhere he can reach. His hands interlock with yours as he relishes the feeling of you. Your skin feels cool against his. Your soft sighs only fuel his desire. Your body is perfect beneath his. He kisses over your cheeks and along your jaw, paving a path towards your lips.

You turn your face to the side to dodge his kiss. "Johnny, wait."

He pouts as he pulls back slightly. "Wait? For what?"

"I just got here. Don't you want to do something else first?" you ask with an innocent smile. But it's clear you're teasing him.

"No, baby. Want you now," he murmurs, finally capturing your lips with his.

Your stomach tingles as he kisses you languidly. He takes his time to savour your taste, exploring your mouth as if it was the first time he's been given the privilege. He pins you down harder, his body a tantalising presence against yours. You let out the softest moan in response. But he hears you. He feels it throughout his entire body.

He breaks away to trail kisses down your neck again. Releasing your hands, he begins making his way down, moving under the covers. His hands map a path down your arms and over your body. When he reaches your stomach, he lifts your sweatshirt just high enough to kiss the sensitive skin of your belly.

His fingers play at the waistband of your pants, teasing you for just a moment before undoing them. He pulls your pants and underwear down together. You watch your clothes fly out from under the duvet, landing somewhere on the floor.

He settles again between your legs, hooking his arms around your thighs to hold you in place. He trails his lips along the softness of your inner thighs, humming against your skin as he takes in the scent of your arousal. You lift up the covers to get a peek at him.

He meets your gaze, grinning. "Still wanna do something else first?"

"Shut up," you mumble, lowering the covers again.

He chuckles, and you feel his breath against your warmth. Your body burns with anticipation as his lips inch closer and closer.

But just as he's about to reach his destination, the door suddenly opens, and a voice rings through.

"Hey, Johnny. Have you-"

Sue walks in, her eyes immediately landing on you. She makes a face of bewilderment at the sight. Fortunately, you're unexposed, still wearing your sweatshirt and covered by the duvet. However, the suspicious heap on the bed makes the situation obvious.

You stare back wide-eyed, shocked into silence. Johnny clambers up from his spot. He sticks his head out from under the covers, appearing just above your chest.

"Jesus, Sue. Ever heard of knocking?" he chastises her.

Sue raises an eyebrow. "Ever heard of locking the door?"

Johnny huffs in response. "What are you doing back so early?"

"We finished early," she replies. "Did you sort out the package like I asked?"

"Uh… no," he answers.

"I need you to do it now," she says.

"Seriously?" he asks. "I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"Yes, seriously," she insists. "I needed it done this morning."

Johnny groans, turning back to you. "I'm sorry. I gotta go deal with this."

"No worries. I'll wait for you here," you reply.

He maneuvers out from under the covers, careful to keep you hidden. He lovingly lays the duvet over you again and kisses you on your forehead.

Johnny heads towards the door. "Alright, let's go."

Sue nods, before turning to you. "It's good to see you again."

You swear you can see a smirk on her face but decide to respond civilly. "Good to see you too, Sue."

"Go!" Johnny reiterates, ushering his sister out of his room.

Despite the predicament, Johnny's frustration amuses you. Sue finally leaves, and Johnny casts one last glance back at you. He gives you a smile before closing the door.

You let out a sigh as you lie back, now alone in the bedroom. You decide to stay tucked into bed, watching the city from the window as you waited. About twenty minutes pass before Johnny returns.

"Hey, baby. Sorry about that," he says, entering the room again. He locks the door this time.

"It's alright," you tell him, putting your phone down. "Is everything good?"

He sits down on the edge of the bed as he looks over you. The sight of you nice and comfy in his bed warms his heart.

"Yeah," he replies. "There's just been a lot to do lately."

You nod. "Any other disturbances I should be aware of?"

He grins. "No. No more disturbances."

He crawls under the covers, positioning himself over you again. He wastes no time to close the distance with a tender kiss. His hands find yours as he presses you against the mattress.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips. "Now, where were we?"

➸

478 notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 21 days ago

Text

49 notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 21 days ago

Text

I love him already

The Fantastic Four: First Steps (2025) | dir. Matt Shakman

#joejoe

1K notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 21 days ago

Text

i love him so much it’s insane

#joejoe

229 notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 21 days ago

Text

I’M SEATED

#joejoe

347 notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 22 days ago

Text

𝙻𝙴𝚆𝙸𝚂 𝙿𝚄𝙻𝙻𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚂 𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝚈𝙽𝙾𝙻𝙳𝚂/𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚁𝚈.

Thunderbolts* (2025)

#Lew

453 notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 23 days ago

Note

What if we accidentally found out what turns him on?

before you say ANTYHING ELSE i want to say that this is not me projecting and i need you to fully 100 per cent believe me when i say that, ok? thanks everyone, never bring this up in conversation ever again <3 Wordcount: 2.6K

---

Pulse

It happens completely by accident and takes you by surprise.

You never intended to find out something this intimate about him. Not in this way, anyway...

The first time, you’re lying on the sofa with Joe. Or, rather, you’re on the sofa and Joe is trying to dissolve his whole being into it. He’s lying on his front, one arm folded under one of the cushions, the other dangling off the edge like it’s given up on life.

Hard day, you gathered, not questioning it. You wouldn’t want him to question you if you had been in a similar mood.

You’re perched near his hip, scrolling through your phone while absently dragging your fingertips along the nape of his neck.

It’s absentminded.

Idle.

The kind of touch you barely register having even reached over for. Just a touch because you want to touch him, something completely self-indulgent before it’s anything else.

You’ve always been a bit of a fidgeter, tactile in a way others maybe aren’t, and… Joe’s skin is right there.

So… you know… you use it.

You trace lazy figure-eights just below his hairline, then trail your fingers down to where his spine dips in, light as a breeze, back ‘round to the front of his neck where your thumb sofly rubs over his pulse, and that’s when it happens.

He shifts.

Jolts.

Not like a normal I’m-just-getting-comfy sort of movement. Not even a I-have-an-itch kind of shift.

No… this one’s… sharp.

Sudden.

He draws in a quiet breath and exhales it through his nose like he’s just remembered what it’s like to feel something within his own body. His back arches ever so slightly – not dramatic, but definitely noticeable – and then he rolls halfway onto his side, arm curling protectively up to cover most of his face.

You pause.

Give him a look.

Get your fingers back on his pulse, that tender spot below his jaw, and you can hear how Joe’s breathing picks up.

Hm.

Interesting.

You know he’s probably getting hard.

Look at him.

He must be.

Joe, in a masterstroke of subtlety, says absolutely nothing.

You smirk, and have the fickle thought of learning something you maybe weren’t supposed to, but then file it away. You always thought you didn’t like surprises, but this feels like one you can appreciate in its own time. It’s something to bring up later, maybe. When he’s not trying to hide his whole self away from you, maybe.

The second time, it’s not quite as accidental.

Not on your end, anyway.

He’s brushing his teeth and you’re leaning in the doorframe, watching him, because it’s either that or go finish replying to your e-mails, and, quite frankly, you’d rather die than sit down behind your laptop once more.

Joe’s got bed hair, toothpaste foam at the corners of his mouth, and is currently trying to hum something that sounds vaguely like something you heard on the radio earlier, but with a mouthful of mint.

You’re smiling because you simply can’t help it.

This is nice.

Domestic.

You don’t fully realise you’re smiling until he catches your eye in the mirror and raises his brows like you’ve been caught stealing something sweet from a child.

You step closer, and he keeps brushing, but there’s a flicker in his eyes now. Not alarmed – just alert, like you might poke him in the side and he’s already bracing for it.

You don’t poke him in the side.

Instead, you touch your hand to the side of his neck, just under his ear, and he stills like you’ve pressed a reset button.

Your fingers skim over that soft patch of skin beneath his jaw, where his pulse thuds steady and strong, and his eyelids flutter in a way that would be comedic if it weren’t so fucking telling.

Joe lowers the toothbrush and spits.

The sink runs.

You remove your hand.

Nothing is said.

Not by him, anyway.

Then you quietly murmur, “You missed a spot.” because there’s toothpaste on his bottom lip still, yet Joe, ever the brave soldier, doesn’t ask where.

Can’t.

He’ll figure out later when he’s gotten his breathing under control again, he thinks when he steps out of the bathroom.

The third time is where things fall apart beyond repair, just like you hoped it would.

You’re not sadistic… but, you know. You kind of are.

It’s an early morning.

Bleary and cool, light just beginning to slant in through the windows like it’s sneaking in where it doesn’t belong. You’re half-awake and wearing one of his old hoodies because your flat is a temperature only legally allowed in restaurant freezers, and Joe’s sitting on the edge of the bed, socks in hand, hair damp from a rushed shower.

You come up behind him, sat up but still yawning, arms winding around his shoulders.

He leans back slightly, happy to be held for a moment, and you press a kiss to the side of his neck – to his pulse point, specifically – because that’s what people in love do sometimes.

You feel like that’s a good enough excuse, anyway.

And Joe – sleepy and unguarded, in nothing but old joggers and wet hair – makes a sound.

A sound.

Not a “good morning” sound.

Not a “this is nice” hum.

No.

Joe releases a low, involuntary, gut-wrenching noise, like his body just told the truth before his mouth could intervene.

You freeze.

Pause entirely.

Joe’s entire spine stiffens like he’s been caught in the act of a war crime, and he immediately starts putting his socks on at the speed of light.

You’re not even sure if his feet are properly dry yet and can’t help your small smirk.

“Okay,” you say slowly, half hoping Joe doesn’t feel embarrassed, and half hoping he absolutely does.

“So… that’s a thing, then.”

“What’s a thing?” Joe asks, the picture of innocence if innocence looked like a man who just ran into a brick wall called his own libido.

“You tell me,” you reply quickly, getting up and stepping around the bed to face him properly. “You’re the one who just moaned.”

“Um, excuse me. I did not moan.”

“Ah,” your smile grows bigger. “But, you did. You made a noise like we were ten seconds away from using up the rest of the lube.”

Joe groans – not the same kind – and flops backwards onto the mattress, arm flung over his face. You didn’t think he’d be this quick to admit defeat.

“Hm?” you press, unable to keep the giggles that bubble up within your throat inside.

“This has to be illegal.” Joe cries and just makes you laugh harder. “Yea. I’m pressing charges.”

“Your neck,” you say, approaching slowly, like he’s a wild animal that might bolt.

“I’m getting a lawyer.”

“Turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“Okay, first of all–” Joe starts, then stops. Lowers his arm just enough to peek at you. “That’s just an assumption, isn’t it?”

You crawl onto the bed beside him.

“Yea, no. You’re right. It is. However… it’s also an anecdotal truth. And I’m a big believer in lived experience. You know, you touch a thing, you see a reaction, and, I know this might sound crazy, but then you just accept the truth.”

You can’t help your grin as you can see his frown deepen, throwing an arm back to grab onto a pillow to cover his face with.

“I hate it here.”

You notice how Joe left his throat out for you whilst he hides his face away. It makes you reach out and rest your hand against the side of his neck, thumb sweeping gently over the place where his heartbeat kicks up.

Joe immediately whimpers.

You both freeze.

“Oh, fuck,” he swears, muffled into the fabric, and his hips shift like he’s trying not to move. To not to feel it.

You raise your brows, not without judgement.

“Joe.”

“I’m broken,” he says softly and wounded into the pillow. “Something inside me is broken.”

“No, don’t worry...” you lean down and brush your lips against the soft skin just under his jaw. It’s difficult to not show your delight at the way he visibly shudders.

“I think you just really like neck stuff.”

There’s a pause, and then, a low and muffled: “I need to revise my entire sexual identity, I think.” which makes you laugh loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

It becomes a quiet knowledge after that.

You don’t bring it up in public – you’re not a monster – but you learn that tracing a finger across the side of his throat when he’s leaning over you on the sofa will derail his entire train of thought.

You learn that nuzzling into that space between his shoulder and his neck when he’s spooning you turns his breathing shallow within seconds.

Learn that even casual little pecks near his pulse-point make him go tight-jawed and red-eared like someone’s pulled a fire alarm inside of his ribcage.

And you love learning. You’re nothing if not a good student.

What surprises you most, though, is how easily undone Joe is by it.

Not just sexually – though that’s absolutely a huge part of it – but emotionally, too.

Joe has always been the type to dodge vulnerability with a joke, or a deflection or, even occasionally by starting a new sentence halfway through yours.

But there’s something about his neck.

About him being touched there.

Softly, slowly, deliberately.

It genuinely doesn’t take much more than a lone finger tracing a slow trail from his collarbone up to his ear. It immediately makes him go quiet, like he can’t pretend around it. Can’t armour up fast enough.

One night, after a particularly stressful day that involves a broken boiler, a missed delivery, and a passive aggressive neighbour who plays the saxophone at all hours, Joe comes home looking like he’s been chewed up and spat out by capitalism itself.

You’re already in bed, phone on your chest and ready to scroll for at least half an hour, when he kicks off his shoes with a kind of weary desperation that makes you put your phone down before he crawls up beside you and tucks his head beneath your chin without a word.

You don’t speak, because Joe doesn’t need words.

He needs something else.

And you think you know exactly what that is…

You just shift your hand to the side of his neck, your thumb sweeping gently over that warm, thudding place beneath his ear.

Joe exhales like it’s the first time he has exhaled all day and moves his face down, forehead bumping into your jaw.

You rub your thumb up and down in slow, gentle motions, knowing it should get at least some sort of reaction.

And you’re right.

You can hear his throat stutter as he tries to keep all his little noises inside, and then feel how he kisses you collarbone in thanks like it’s the only thing he’s got to offer in return.

Good, you think, glad and somewhat proud to be able to reduce this man to nothing more than a puddle of quiet barely-contained pleasure.

“You ok?” you ask, knowing that he must be.

“Mhmm… feels safe here,” he murmurs, the words soft like they’re not meant for the whole room to hear. Just for you. “When you do that… the–… this, neck thing… it’s like everything shuts up for a second. Even my own fucking brain... sorry. Is that weird?”

You don’t say anything at first. Just comb your fingers through his hair and keep tracing the line of his pulse with your thumb.

“You’re not weird,” you say eventually, quiet and sure. “You’re just human. And you deserve a soft touch where you’d like one... like, right here.”

Joe turns his face into your shirt, digs deeper where he was already kind of digging to begin with, like he’s trying to hide from something, but you feel the way his breath catches. How his whole body stills like he’s afraid if he moves too much it’ll all vanish.

He knows he’s lucky that it doesn’t. That you keep slowly moving your thumb, a soft touch, exactly where he likes one.

It takes a while – a long while – but, eventually, he talks about it. Brings it up out of the blue, like it’s something he’s been thinking about.

You’re in his bed, sprawled across sheets that feel way more luxurious than the price he’s paid for them. Joe’s shirtless, chest still a little flushed from what you’ve just done to him. You lie next to him, one arm curled lazily around his torso, bent at the elbow so your fingers are resting right against his neck. You search for his heartbeat there until you find it. It’s calm now. Slow and steady.

Before he says anything, Joe makes sure to let his fingers curl around your wrist to keep your hand right where it is.

“You know,” he says, voice low, “I didn’t know this about myself.”

You hum in acknowledgment, knowing exactly what he means. “Was a surprise to me too.”

“Yea, but, it’s like you just… knew. Without asking.” Joe smiles. “So smart.”

You press your lips to the spot beneath his jaw in a soft peck. “Not smart. Just… I don’t know, I just noticed.”

Joe’s smile grows as his eyes close, relishing the movements your fingertips are making across his skin. He could stay here for hours. Days. Months. Decades.

There’s a long silence before he speaks again.

“I think maybe it’s because it’s where people always go to hurt others, isn’t it?” he says softly. “In films, or whatever. Or like… when people fight. Everyone always goes for the neck.”

You smirk at his reasoning.

Such a man.

Such a boy.

He turns his head to look at you, long lashes dark against his cheekbones. “So maybe when someone goes there to be kind, or gentle, or – fuck, I don’t know – fucking tender, or whatever, it’s just… it’s different.”

You don’t say anything. Just look at him for a long moment as your fingers keep playing. Then, you carefully move up to touch your lips to his pulse point again – reverent now. Much more careful.

The soft touch of your mouth to his neck makes Joe close his eyes as he leans in, ready to receive whatever you are willing to give to him.

He hopes it’s your mouth all over.

Hopes it’s your hands in his hair, your hips over his own, and your tongue swirling circles exactly where he wants to feel it swirl.

Just – he hopes he gets all of you, everywhere, all of the time.

And… listen. It’s easy to poke fun, at least a little. But there’s something better about being kind, and gentle, and – fuck, you don’t know – fucking tender, or whatever.

Whilst Joe has learnt about himself, you have too.

Turns out you kind of like surprises.

Not the dramatic kind. Not fireworks, or love confessions in the rain.

You kind of like the quiet ones. The ones you don’t see coming until they’ve already settled in your chest.

Like the way Joe will easily melt under your fingers.

Like how knowing can feel more intimate than touching.

Like how knowing, really knowing someone can feel a little bit like being let in on a miracle.

How intimacy can live in the smallest of touches.

How the body confesses what the heart’s still learning to say.

How you could fall in love by accident, and prove it on purpose, with something as soft as a thumbprint over a pulse.

And maybe that’s what love is, in the end.

Not the thunder. Not the grand declarations.

Just the quiet surprise of being understood, right there, in the place no one else had ever thought to look.

---

The Taglisted

@almightywdm, @alwayslindie, @beau-hawkins, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson

@dailyobsession, @eddie-munsons-balls, @eddies-puppet, @elvendria, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @gri959, @hazelenys

@joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @kravitzwhore, @lovelyblueness

@loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719, @munsonluvrr, @munsonssweets, @nadixq

@niallersfreckles, @overthinking-raccoon, @pepperstories, @pinchofhoney, @readergf

@royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

add yourself

234 notes · View notes

merrikattrash92 · 24 days ago

Note

omg omg omg omg omg omg i can’t breath https://at.tumblr.com/ceriseheaven/there-is-no-doubt-in-my-mind-that-jq-is-a-thigh/9y784ior1sfg

your writting is amazing!!! and literally gonna faint.

omg what about joe getting a little to close to readers…. core. and she just get slightly turned on and he notices and he’s like “idc as long as you feel goon i’m okay” but then say “fuck being a good guy rn” and just eat reader up

oh my..

minors, leave.

he didn't want to do or say anything about it at first. he was far too comfortable with his head between your thighs, resting right on your covered crotch but it became impossible to ignore.

the way you were soaking up your cotton panties, his plump lips brush against the wet spot every time he readjusts his head. the scent of your arousal was filling up his senses, all he wanted was to bury his nose there and drown in it. each time you accidentally tried to rub your thighs together, forgetting he was there was torture for him. he wanted you to squeeze him in, hard. and he wanted you to do with while he had his tongue buried inside of your sweet sweet cunt.

your hands being lost in his hair wasn't helping, everything was too much and he couldn't take it anymore so he looked up and saw you focused on the television. testing the waters, he started kissing along the hem of your underwear, grabbing your outer thighs in his ringed hands for leverage.

"joey.."

"yeah baby? want me to stop?" he asks, planting kisses all the way from the top of your pelvis and down to where the wet patch is, deepening them there over your panties making you nearly arch your back begging for more.

"no no no keep going.. it feels so good.." you groan and feel him smirk against your underwear, one of his hands reach towards it, ripping it off in one swift move exposing your dripping cunt to the cold air and to him.

he stares at you for a few seconds, his mouth agape as he watches your juices leaking out down to your crack, making both your holes glisten and your puffy clit almost trembling with need of his attention. he nearly drools at the sight, "so fucking beautiful and all for me hm? you're all mine, aren't you dollface?" he asks, leaning down and breathing in your scent just the way he wanted it. letting in invade his senses as he pleases.

"all yours daddy.. yeah i'm all yours now please make your girl feel good i need you" you whine out and his grip on your thighs tightens, you'll most likely find bruises in their wake tomorrow but right now that's irrelevant, he throws them on his shoulders and you pull him closer, squeezing his head in real hard.

he puts his tongue out, collect every drip of sweetness you're giving him from the bottom to the top. he circles the opening of your pussy a few times, making you clench around nothing in desperation before bringing his lips to wrap around your clit with a forceful hunger.

he gives you no time to adjust, his lips have an intent. sucking on your sensitive bud like his life is on the line and the only that'll save it is if he makes you cum over and over again.

you tug at his hair just as harshly, your feet digging into his back as you try to withhold your moans but he doesn't seem to like that as he lightly bites your clit with his teeth, making you squirm and wince, "if you want me to make you feel good, you're gonna have to be a good girl and let me hear it yeah?" he says from between your thighs before dipping his head back down on your abused clit, running his tongue across it giving it tiny licks before going back to sucking on the little thing ferociously.

it doesn't take long for his chin to be drenched with your cum, coating his beard and before letting any of it go to waste, his mouth is on your pussy, cleaning up every last drop, humming at the taste.

he then pulls you closer by your thighs, his tongue finding your entrance and sliding inside it with ease where you begin clenching his tongue but that doesn't stop him from moving it around, flicking in deep inside you, making it hit your g spot with each little thrust while his nose rubs against your poor clit, creating the perfect overstimulation for you.

your back lifts off the couch but he pushes you down with his palm sternly, applying weight on your lower stomach, bringing you closer to the edge, "oh my god joe i.. i'm not.. i can't i ca.." you ramble nonsense, squeezing his head between your thighs so tight and he moans at the feeling, rubbing his own crotch against the couch, trying to stimulate some feeling of relief for his hardened cock.

"come on, i want another taste, give daddy some more honey." he says and it's enough to bring you to your second release. you finish with pushing his head deeper into your cunt, exactly the way he likes as your legs shake on his shoulders.

you're breathless while he cleans you up for the second time. your pussy shivering with having two intensely fast back to back orgasms and by the way he's placing kisses all over your puckered hole, you know these two are just the gateway to the beginning of tonight.

447 notes · View notes