[ Daisy's House, Manhattan, New York ]
Faced with Maria's unusually enthusiastic request, Daisy found it hard to say no—even for someone who prided herself on being composed under pressure.
The awkward part? This time they were practically chest-to-chest, close enough for Daisy to make out every tiny shift in Maria's expression, even in the dim lighting of the room.
But Maria? Cool as ice. Not even a flicker of hesitation.
If she's not scared of ghosts, why should I be afraid of shadows?
Game on.
The "treatment" left Maria flushed, damp with sweat, and dazed like a cat who just got away with knocking over a chandelier. There was a certain satisfaction on her face, a clear relief that radiated from her posture. Daisy figured this was what "post-stress decompression" looked like in SHIELD language.
Just as Daisy moved to wash her hands and mentally reboot, Maria grabbed her wrist.
"We're good friends, right?"
Daisy nodded, a little cautious. The truth was that, yes—somehow, out of this chaotic espionage-fueled life—they had become friends. The kind that involved mutual trust, veiled jabs, and now, apparently, shared holiday tension relief.
Maria's cheeks were wine-flushed, her eyes glassy, and her tone suspiciously sweet. "Since we're such good friends… and I embarrassed myself like that… shouldn't you be equally compromised?"
[ Warning: R-18 start ]
The warmth of alcohol had softened the edges of Maria's thoughts, loosening the grip of every fear, every hesitation. Her heart pulsed loud in her chest—not from nerves, but from desire. Raw, clear, undeniable.
In a sudden burst of energy, Maria pushed Daisy down onto the bed and climbed on top, her body moving before her mind could catch up. Their lips met again, mouths hungry, breath mixing in sharp bursts of need. They rolled together, tangled in limbs and laughter, until they hit the floor in a thud softened by a nearby rug. Now with Maria straddling her, she leaned down, capturing Daisy's lips in another searing kiss.
Daisy kissed her back with equal hunger, their mouths parting, tongues dancing in a rhythm that only lovers understand. With a quick, confident move, Daisy rolled Maria onto her back, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper, "I've wanted this… you."
She slowly slid Maria's shirt upward, revealing warm skin that rose and fell with shallow breaths. Daisy's lips followed the trail, starting at her stomach, gliding up between her breasts, across her collarbone, and finally to the soft skin beneath Maria's chin. By the time she reached her mouth again, Maria was gasping—lips parted, eyes glazed with wanting. They kissed again, slower now, deeper. A tangle of tongues, sighs, and moans.
"You're beautiful," Daisy whispered into her ear, her voice reverent.
Fingers moved to the clasp of Maria's bra. A soft click, and it came free. Daisy cupped her breasts, thumbs circling until her nipples peaked under her touch. She kissed one, then the other, teasing each with her tongue until Maria arched into her with a quiet cry.
"Not fair I'm the only one undressed," Maria murmured breathlessly.
Laughing softly, Maria helped Daisy shed her jeans, shirt, and bra. She paused to press kisses across Daisy's newly exposed skin—shoulders, chest, down her sternum—her hands cupping Daisy's breasts, teasing a gasp from her lips.
In one fluid motion, Daisy grasped Maria's wrist, pulling her gently to the edge of the bed. Maria didn't resist—she was already melting beneath Daisy's touch.
Daisy knelt between her legs, pressing soft kisses along Maria's inner thighs, slowly, tenderly, from knees to the edge of her panties. Her breath was warm against sensitive skin. Maria's hips twitched.
With a gentle tug, Daisy slid the last barrier down Maria's legs and let it fall to the floor. She looked up with a glint in her eyes.
"You're already wet," she said softly, almost in awe.
Then her lips were on Maria's lower lips—tongue brushing over folds that pulsed with heat. Maria gasped, crying out Daisy's name, her fingers clutching the sheets, then tangling in Daisy's hair. Her hips lifted, needing more, and Daisy gave it to her.
She sucked Maria's clit gently, her rhythm maddening and perfect. Maria moaned, a high, broken sound, pressing Daisy deeper with her hands, eyes squeezed shut in surrender.
When Daisy finally buried her tongue inside her, Maria nearly came, one hand grasping her own breast, the other keeping Daisy locked between her legs. Her moans filled the room, loud and uncontrolled.
Minutes passed in waves—pleasure building, crashing, breaking—until finally, Maria came with a cry that echoed off the walls. Daisy stayed with her, tasting every last drop, licking her lips as she finally lifted her head.
"You taste amazing," Daisy murmured, grinning.
Maria blushed, cheeks pink and glowing, before pulling Daisy into a kiss—deep, feverish—tasting herself on Daisy's tongue. It only made her hungrier.
Wordlessly, Daisy slipped off her own panties. She climbed over Maria, opened her legs, and settled against her until they were perfectly aligned—pussy against pussy. They moved together slowly, experimentally at first, then in perfect sync. Each movement brought a gasp, a moan, a whispered name.
They kissed as their hips rocked, their bodies slipping into the rhythm like a song they'd always known. Their lips parted only for breath, their tongues tangling again, a dance of desire and connection.
It didn't take long. Their pleasure built again, fast and fiery, and when release came, it came for both of them—together, as one, with mouths pressed tight and bodies trembling.
Then, silence. A warm, heavy stillness as they lay entangled, catching their breath.
"That was… amazing," Maria finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Daisy smiled, brushing hair from Maria's face. "Yeah," she said. "And the night's still young."
They kissed again, slower now, full of affection, but neither of them ready to stop.
It's Christmas. Time for peace, goodwill… and letting go.
She gave up her flimsy resistance and surrendered to the moment. Maria was better at this than expected—cold on the outside, but her technique betrayed experience. Daisy wasn't sure whether to be impressed, jealous, or both.
The night stretched on, full of sighs, laughter, and whispered names—until sleep finally claimed them both, tangled in each other's arms.
[ R-18 end ]
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[ The Next Morning ]
Daisy was wrapped in a warm, post-festive slumber when she felt a nudge.
"What…?"
"I'm leaving." Maria was already mostly dressed, her voice cool, businesslike. "Don't tell anyone about this. Keep it exactly how it is. Call it a one-night stand."
Just like that. No drama. Classic Maria Hill.
Daisy watched her go, then stared at the empty pillow. She let out a sigh that felt heavier than it should have.
There's no 'future' here. Maria's a career woman through and through. Love? Relationships? Those are luxuries she files under 'Not Now. Maybe Never.'
It wasn't love anyway.
"One-night stand is fine," she muttered to herself, pouring a glass of milk like a suburban mom pretending everything's normal.
That's when she noticed the gift on the table—a sleek, professional shoulder holster. Left-side draw. Designed for speed and efficiency.
It was thoughtful. Dangerous. Just like Maria.
Daisy, who had never gotten into the habit of giving Christmas presents, made a mental note to return the gesture. Somehow.
Christmas came and went in awkward silence. Both had silently agreed to keep things chill, let time smooth out the awkwardness.
Yeah. About that...
No sooner had the eggnog digested than Director Nick Fury summoned both of them for a formal visit to see one of the founder of SHIELD, the legendary Peggy Carter, in England.
If it were any other time, Daisy might've cracked a sarcastic joke about the whole "corporate nostalgia tour." Visiting the elderly founders was basically the SHIELD version of holiday HR compliance.
But now? She couldn't even fake her usual sass. Not when Maria couldn't look her in the eye.
The two sat on the jet with enough tension to tear the hull. Maria's poker face was legendary, and Daisy just focused on keeping her breathing even.
Nick Fury, watching this silent cold war unfold, quietly enjoyed the show. Unity wasn't exactly his priority. If his agents were too busy glaring at each other, they weren't conspiring behind his back.
When Sharon Carter met them at the airport, she looked genuinely startled.
"You two were fine before Christmas," she whispered to Daisy. "Did someone nuke the friendship?"
Daisy wanted to laugh. What could she say? That they'd gone from flirtation to floor gymnastics in one night and now couldn't make eye contact?
So she just shrugged. Let them guess.
Meeting Peggy Carter was like standing in front of SHIELD's living legacy. Old, yes, but sharp as a whip. The woman even threw out a few jokes at their expense.
Routine visit. Check. Holiday mood? Dead.
Except the office rumor mill was just warming up.
Whispers began to circulate—Daisy and Maria had fought. Violently. Irreparably. Now they were enemies.
Neither woman understood where it started, but the root of it? Grant Ward.
Grant had decided to do a little peeking when Maria visited Daisy's home. Too afraid of Hill's wrath to linger, Grant left before seeing the... festivities. But he reported everything he did observe.
Hydra, aided by mole-extraordinaire Alexander Pierce and Ward's report, took one look at the situation and said, "Aha! They had a major falling-out!"
Top brass decided to weaponize the drama. Rumors were planted and spread like wildfire.
Maria and Daisy? Feuding. On the verge of a full fallout. Internal division was exactly what Hydra wanted—and maybe, just maybe, one of them could be poached.
Even Nick Fury didn't fight the gossip. To him, disunity was… convenient.
Maria, sensing the manipulation, pulled Daisy aside one night to clear the air.
No flowers. No romance. Just a blunt, cold "confession" that she knew something was off.
Daisy agreed. Her instincts screamed sabotage.
So the two agreed to a temporary ceasefire. No emotion. No public clarification. Just observe and wait.
But as the rumor spread unchecked, the silence only made it worse. People assumed the worst, and suddenly the "Hill-Johnson Fallout" became classified office gossip.
Maria didn't comment. But those who paid attention noticed she grew colder, more guarded.
Daisy, for all her skills, was still human. The return to SHIELD routine was exhausting. Eventually, she joined her film crew back in Costa Rica.
The island where the epic battle had taken place still bore its fantastical scars. Giant plants remained untouched, giving it a prehistoric aesthetic straight out of a Spielberg fever dream.
Daisy signed a development deal with the Costa Rican government, transforming the island into a future tourist hotspot—after the movie's release, of course.
The local politicians, upon realizing SHIELD was involved, didn't dare say no. Daisy, diplomatic but firm, gave them a generous cut—half the income from the tourist attraction. But her own finance team, all from Seraph Film and Television, would be handling the books.
Translation: they'd decide what "half" really meant. Creative accounting at its finest.
Peter Parker and Gwen, unlike the seasoned agents, still had lives to live—specifically, school. The Actors Guild kept checking in to ensure they weren't being mistreated.
"Are the kids sleeping enough?" "Do they have study hours?" "Has the director made them do anything… weird?"
All this handholding exhausted Daisy more than any Hydra skirmish.
So, she focused her energy where it counted—filming the scenes with her two underage actors first. Wrangling high schoolers was somehow harder than herding spies.
Peace, it seemed, came at a cost. And the quiet? It never lasted long.
Not in SHIELD. Not in Daisy's life. And definitely not when Hydra and ambitious rumors were involved.
To be continued...
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