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leviathans-watching · 10 months

Text

Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!”

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is.

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles.

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team.

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever.

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all.

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition.

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy.

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole.

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game.

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd.

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night.

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period.

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else.

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down.

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off.

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line.

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be.

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious.

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?”

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.”

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action.

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour.

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season.

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh.

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received.

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away.

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like.

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear.

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly.

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.”

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?”

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.”

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.”

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.”

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?”

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back.

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that. If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time.

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.”

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.”

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over.

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos.

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side.

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze, you lean over to Diavolo.

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man.

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.”

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?”

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.”

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.”

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once.

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with.

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.”

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!”

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…”

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished.

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks.

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.”

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly.

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully.

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?”

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.”

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.”

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.”

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.”

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.”

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs.

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.”

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!”

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.”

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously.

“I think it was.”

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win.

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.”

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication.

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.”

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh.

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?”

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet.

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together.

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day.

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.”

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?”

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options.

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.”

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.”

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story.

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up.

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved?

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous.

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you.

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you.

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread.

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol.

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it.

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.”

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room.

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit.

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car.

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.”

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.”

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare.

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.”

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car.

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.”

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.”

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are.

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.”

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.”

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?”

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.”

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.”

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.”

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich.

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.”

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.”

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile.

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward.

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground.

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet.

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have.

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating.

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course.

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills.

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board.

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?”

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh.

“Way awesomer than the Chols.”

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?”

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at.

“Of course I did.”

“Was it impressive?”

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice.

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs.

“I barely even got to talk to you!”

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…”

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off.

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool.

“Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest.

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.”

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up.

“Sweet talker.”

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.”

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows.

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?”

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.”

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins.

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.”

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.”

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?”

“Play hockey.”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.”

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close.

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.”

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.”

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.”

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.”

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?”

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.”

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.”

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him.

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table.

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles.

“Good. I want to treat you.”

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.”

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?”

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.”

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car.

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch.

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.”

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.”

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head.

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.”

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building.

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.”

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face.

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.”

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.”

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win.

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.”

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong.

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?”

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.”

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself.

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward.

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away.

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back.

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction <3

MC: Liar.

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it.

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.”

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold.

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows.

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!”

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.”

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.”

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him.

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look.

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.”

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest.

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily.

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on.

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“Not threatening, just informing.”

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.”

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile.

“Anything.”

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings.

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding.

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.”

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up.

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?”

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.”

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup.

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.”

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs.

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder.

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet.

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.”

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo.

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers.

“What?”

“Team merch, really?”

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.”

You can only shake your head.

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos.

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.”

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?”

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.”

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.”

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation.

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice.

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now.

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them.

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief.

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her.

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.”

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister.

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?”

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.”

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.”

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.”

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.”

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?”

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.”

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.”

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?”

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better.

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in.

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!”

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?”

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing.

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.”

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?”

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.”

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.”

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate.

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod.

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new.

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner.

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.”

“You’ve been watching?”

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.”

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.”

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had.

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting.

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena.

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure.

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around.

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols.

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on.

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back.

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city.

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder.

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game.

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild.

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long.

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed.

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him.

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy.

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling.

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly.

“I know.”

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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hugsandchaos · 8 days

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FELLOW PHANS, OH MY GOSH

Okay! Listen! Listen, okay?!

So reveal gone wrong, something happens, Danny ends up in an alternate universe where he never existed and Dash was good friends with his family since Jazz tutors him, messed around with some of their stuff, and became a Halfa. They were there, along with Kwan, so they know. And they’re helping him. Sure, this would be a good chance to study ghosts, but Dash’s health, physical and mental, comes first.

Danny’s been a Halfa for over a year at this point, so he’s experienced. Dash isn’t. He’s only been a halfa for a little over a month. He’s the one fighting off ghosts, until Danny comes along and handles it. Dash thought it was awesome and tried talking to him, but he just left.

And in school, Danny meets Sam and Tucker all over again. He also avoids Dash, which is kind of a bummer because this Dash is actually a great guy! He wants to welcome the new kid, too. He looks pretty freaked out, probably new to the town and could use some encouragement, but he keeps flinching and avoiding him.

Danny understands that this is an alternative universe. Clockwork knows him. But everything is just so weird. Dash is good, a halfa, and his parents aren’t hunting him? They’re helping him?? It’s so baffling to him, and it really hurts a part of him. Why couldn’t his own parents have been like that?

Also, Lancer worries for Danny because he’s always nervous about something and was practically falling asleep standing up when he transferred. Despite there being forms signed, he also can’t find any trace of his parents and Danny tenses up when he mentions them. He also gets really anxious when the Fentons are around or mention anything to do with ghost hunting.

The kid had a panic attack when there was a lightning storm and Lancer could’ve sworn he saw litchenberg scars on the back of his neck! He refuses school counseling because he “doesn’t trust therapists anymore”!

As you can imagine, Lancer’s questions are putting Danny under a lot of stress. More than necessary, yes, but he has no idea what’ll happen if his teacher finds out he’s on his own? How will they react to him living in an abandoned observatory just outside of town? Is he going to be forced somewhere else?

Bonus bits!

Dash has a fire core, as to be expected, but he doesn’t have ghost sense like Danny. Or he does? I’m still deciding.

We don’t see Vlad having any ghost sense, only Danny and Dan, and Frostbite said that his ghost sense was part of his ice powers.

On the other hand, we could say Dash suddenly feels uncomfortably hot when another ghost is nearby maybe?

He hasn’t unlocked his fire powers yet, but he’ll get there! He admires this new ghost who’s been helping him out, and actually handles the fights much better and quicker than him, and he wants to learn from him so badly.

Somehow, he hasn’t put two and two together yet, but Danny has.

Danny is scared of the Fentons. No one knows why. He just looks really put off by them and tries to leave as quickly as possible without being mean. He backs up when they approach and he stares at any new ghost hunting tech is in their hands.

Haven’t figured out Dash’s obsession yet. Maybe dogs? Or anything cartoonish? Again, still figuring it out.

Some of this might be subject to change, please remember that incase I make another post changing my mind about something. That’s all for now. Bye! 👋

#danny phantom #au #danny fenton #is he a Fenton anymore though?#danny phantom jazz #danny phantom lancer #Danny phantom Sam #danny phantom sam manson #dp sam #danny phantom and sam #sam manson #dp tucker #danny phantom tucker #tucker foley #Dp Maddie Fenton #Jack Fenton #jazz Fenton #dash Baxter #halfa dash

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makeste · 7 months

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BnHA Chapter 406: Secret Menu Hero Name

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all “NOT EVEN DEATH ITSELF CAN STOP ME!!!” and saved All Might so easily and spectacularly that it immediately became clear why Horikoshi had to keep him on ice for fourteen months straight. All Might was all “thanks for the assist Bakugou-shounen, now please allow me to show my gratitude by lending you my SWEETASS ROBOT ARM that nearly gave makeste a fucking heart attack when she saw it, HOLY SHIT.” Kacchan was all “I JUST LIKE TO SMILE, SMILING’S MY FAVORITE” and he smiled the BIGGEST EVER and indeed has literally not STOPPED smiling ever since, and my heart is warm. <3333

Today on BnHA: A jubilant menace stirs in the air. A chill runs down Kid For One’s spine. A sudden crash behind him. He whirls around, only to be met with the face of Chaos itself in all its raucous glory. The boy is relentless. His pursuit, unending. His blows, unyielding. And his mirth, as perplexing as it is petrifying. What the fuck. Why won’t he stop laughing. He’s laughing. Horikoshi is laughing. The readers are all laughing. You’re laughing. Kid For One is shitting his pants while this cackling sleep paralysis demon gleefully chips away at his frail sanity, one frenetic BOOM at a time. And you’re laughing. :|

doo de doo, don’t mind me, just gonna scroll past the first couple pages of this chapter so I don’t get spoiled for the outcomes of all the other mini-battles I haven’t finished catching up with yet :’)

though I already caught a glimpse of a bloodied-up Shouji before I realized what was happening, so unfortunately that particular cat is now out of the bag. can’t believe the suspense of whether or not Shouji would survive his fight is now completely ruined for me. can you even imagine how tense it would have been wondering whether or not Shouji would get killed off. ...and you know what, even as I type this, I’m realizing that this is really not the type of sarcasm that translates very well across the internet, lol. and even if it did, it could just as easily come across as “WOW, MAKESTE REALLY DOESN’T CARE ABOUT SHOUJI AT ALL, HUH” sarcasm, rather than the “it’s not that serious guys, it’s just that there’s no possible way Horikoshi could ever convince me that he was actually going to kill off one of the kids” sarcasm it was intended as! so yeah. you know what, I’m just going to shut up about all this now and move on. glad he’s okay though

so now back to the Main Character Battlefield, where Kacchan is currently having way too good of a time for someone who actually WAS killed off by Horikoshi fairly recently

All Might is all “he’s so fast!” and yeah he really is lol. ngl, I had a fair amount of Kacchan endgame theory stuff riding on his ability to meaningfully upgrade his speed, so all of this is very satisfying to hear! and to be fair, I do wonder how much of it is owed to the boost from Gearshift as opposed to Katsuki’s own newly acquired exploding bloodsweat. but I’d like to think that even without GS he’s still incredibly fucking fast at this point. like easily still a Top 3 BnHA Speedy Boi

well shit lol now Edgeshot is reminding everyone that even prior to his “death”, Kacchan was briefly able to surpass Tomura’s speed with his upgrade

well there you have it! so yeah, that basically confirms he’s currently even faster than All Might was at his peak. just a homicidal little comet casually zipping around all of these other slowpokes

lol

just for the record, I still have no clue how Kacchan’s bizarre new upgrade actually works, but I am fairly certain that sweat is NOT SUPPOSED TO EVER DO THAT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES

like seriously though Kacchan, doesn’t this hurt? like at all?

(ETA: hahahaha. ouch.)

well whatever!! if Tomura was able to bypass Erasure’s loopholes with all of his hand nonsense, then Kacchan’s sweat has my permission to zoom around inside his bloodstream and randomly explode inside him to somehow make him faster without actually harming him in any way, AND THAT’S FINE. the time for nitpicking ended roughly around the same time that a soft-spoken paracord man dove inside of him to forcefully restart his organs

LOL

“DON’T GET ME WRONG, I COULD EASILY KILL HIM ANY TIME I WANT! I JUST DON’T FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT RIGHT NOW, OKAY. THAT’S DEFINITELY WHAT IT IS, AND IT’S DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE HE JUST EXPLODED ME SO HARD THAT I SAW THE FOURTH DIMENSION”

meanwhile back in Dekutown it looks like Tomura has maybe finally broken free of his impromptu Blackwhip toddler leash

whatever man. how are you still not redeemed yet since I last saw you in chapter 369. you had like an entire year’s worth of chapters. get it together already!!

lol what in the actual fuck is “instadeath”

is this just a Funny Ha Ha fanscan way of referring to Decay?? or were there some additional Tomura quirk developments that I missed out on which were somehow even wilder than the infinityhands

Deku keeps saying that he’s for serious REALLY going to run out of Gearshifts now, but I don’t fucking believe a word this kid says tbh

it will be the “final one” once the fight is finally over, and not a moment sooner. if I know anything about Deku, which I do. and Gearshift, which to be fair I really don’t

-- oh, fuck yeah

what the hell is up with that swirly hand shit though, Kid For One. you better knock that off right now

OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING GUY FOR REAL THOUGH!!

:/ well at least this time you’re being ignored because he’s actually scared shitless of you. shh. don’t tell anyone

holy shit this chapter keeps hitting me with these random bits of information Destiel meme-style and it’s the wildest fucking thing

so while I did obviously clue in to the fact that something must have gone down in the Endeavor+Hawks+Toko+Jirou VS AFO battle, on account of AFO very clearly not being in Jakku anymore, I have not yet caught up to that part of the series, so I don’t actually know anyone’s status! hopefully they’re all alive and relatively unmaimed! although they very clearly failed at their One Job, but oh well

that being said, “AS STRONG AS DARK SHADOW” looooooool omg. DS what did you do. my boy left an impression. I cannot wait to read that, oh goodness

KFO YOU LITTLE TWERP, DIDN’T ANYONE EVER TELL YOU YOU SHOULDN’T LOOK DOWN ON OTHER PEOPLE OR ELSE YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE YOUR OWN WEAKNESSES

seems like someone ought to have told you that. could have spared you a lot of pain and agitation to come. more’s the pity

hee hee hee

hello there

so now my feral wolfchild is having a big internal monologue about how he’s finally mastered his new superquirk through the power of being an unrepentant masochist

fsdkfj. listen up Kid For One, he may be “nothing but a pebble”, but I promise you, if you could fucking hear this kid’s thought processes right now, you would already be halfway across the planet. living out the rest of your days in hiding while checking underneath your bed every night to make sure this little hobgoblin isn’t secretly waiting there to pounce at you

FSDLKFJSLDKJFL SDFLKWJEFLKWLF WLKJFLDKS

(ETA: you guys will never believe this but I found a sneak peak of the as-yet-unreleased soundtrack which will accompany this scene in season seven of the anime! SPOILER ALERT!!!)

ACTUAL GHOUL. I AM ACTUALLY SCREAMING. MY SON HAS BECOME GENUINE NIGHTMARE FUEL

THIS IS MY FAVORITE, FAVORITE, FAVORITE THING EVER YOU GUYS. HOLY SHIT. I CAN’T BREATHE OMFG

OUCH. HA! HAHA.

(ETA: once again, I know this sounds highly improbable, but I actually found some 100% authentic footage from the anime version of this scene! I’m telling ya. once this hits the airwaves minds are gonna be blown.)

HE IS THE “WHO” WHEN YOU CALL “WHO’S THERE”!!! HE IS THE WIND BLOWING THROUGH YOUR HAIR

you have to admit though, this really is the exact type of behavior you’d expect from someone who literally just got spat back out from the pits of hell

oh my god hold up what is this sudden tonal whiplash?

you guys I seriously had to sit back and take a deep breath and calm myself down for a moment, because Final Form Katsuki is just So Much. like actually just THE MOST. that I had to physically force myself to slow down and take these next few panels seriously and resist the urge to keep on making jokes about how CLEARLY EVEN HIS PARENTS ARE TERRIFIED. LOOK AT THEM. MASARU IS SOBBING AND MITSUKI’S HAND IS TREMBLING. IN THE WORLD’S MOST EPIC TWIST, AFO GOES DOWN ONLY TO BE REPLACED BY KACCHAN HIMSELF AS THE FINAL VILLAIN!!!

but yeah I had to stop and calm down from all of that because, oh. Masaru has his head in his hands. and Mitsuki’s trying to get him to turn around, but her hand really is shaking though. and it just really hit me that the two of them have spent the last... thirty minutes...?? swept up in the highs and lows of almost losing their child, and then getting him back, and then watching him be so strong and so good and SAVING ALL MIGHT and RESTORING EVERYONE’S HOPES AND DREAMS. and they must be so incredibly proud, but at the same time he’s still caught up in this fight, and the fight is still not over, and they know the tide could still turn again at any moment. and I can’t even imagine what that must be like. especially with them having already watched their son die once today

oh my god Horikoshi you cannot freaking do this to me!

goddammit. and now I’m all caught up in my Bakufam feels. DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI, THE MITSUKI TEARS WERE THE LOWEST OF BLOWS

and now Kid For One is once again whining about this “pebble” who’s pissing him off even worse than All Might. you love to see it!

OH MY GOD?!?!

oh my lord?! is it finally happening?? ARE WE FINALLY GETTING THAT SWEET, SWEET CONTEXT AT LONG LAST? WILL A MAN FINALLY HAVE A NAME??

-- Horikoshi I swear to god

YEAH NO SHIT. NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT, THEY DO KIND OF BEAR A RESEMBLANCE. YOU KNOW, IF YOU SQUINT

okay, color me intrigued. so that is indeed why AFO was crying when we previously saw this flashback! this is actually so interesting to me, because it’s literally the one and only time he’s ever shown real emotion outside of generic battle-related stuff (anger, shock, surprise, etc.)

so he says Kacchan pisses him off because he looks like Two. and every time he gets reminded of Two, he remembers how his brother died. and, I guess, made him feel sad for the first and probably last time ever???

holy shit, Kacchan was right

he really is AFO’s Final Boss. like even more than he realized

*~*~*OH MY GOD*~*~*

HOLY SHIT YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!

OFA DOS PARTIAL NAME REVEAL AT LONG LAST!! FULL NAME REVEAL AND ADDITIONAL FLASHBACKS TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEK...?? YES? MAYBE? PLEASE????

I swear to god, if Horikoshi deliberately kept Two’s quirk and name Top Secret for YEARS only for them BOTH to wind up NOT ACTUALLY BEING REMOTELY SPOILERY OR WORTH ANY KIND OF SUSPENSEFUL BUILD-UP IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER, I will. just sit here and be puzzled, I guess. lol. “sometimes I just like to fuck with people like that.” OKAY?? WELL GOOD JOB, THEN??

“Kacchan of the Bakugous” was so out of left field and I am grinning so, so hard right now. BAKUGOU NO KACCHAN. that’s officially the second Heroes Rising reference in as many chapters! sure feels like A Certain Mangaka is building up to a Certain Reveal about SOMEBODY maybe possibly still having SOMETHING which will remain unnamed for now, but which rhymes with “done for mall”! and that’s all I’m gonna say about that

except that it’s not, because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also have fifteen other entirely different emotions about him proudly introducing himself to AFO not as Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, but as someone even more powerful. “BEHOLD, it is none other than I... Kacchan!!! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و lolo get fucked you big dumb fart”

heh. but seriously. just me sitting here basking in the fact that he uses the name Deku gave him. the fact that he decides not to go with his formidable, much-agonized-over hero name in this one moment, but instead chooses to use a far more terrifying moniker, even if AFO doesn’t realize the significance. because Dynamight is a hero, yes. one of the very greatest and strongest!

but Kacchan? Kacchan is the boy with a dream. Kacchan is the boisterous child laughing at the danger, unafraid of the challenge. smiling in the face of the tallest wall. Deku’s motherfucking Image of Victory. hahahahaha. ouch

anyway so yeah! what a chapter. this may have actually derailed me because now my brain just wants to write a bunch of character metas even though I STILL HAVE THIRTY MORE CHAPTERS TO READ. and not to mention I still have to actually post all of them as well lol. but whatever! we’ll make it work. long live Kacchan of the Bakugous, and may his Secret Menu Hero Name always strike fear in the hearts of his enemies

#bnha 406 #bakugou katsuki #all for one #ofa dos #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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aectpen · 8 months

Text

cool in my book - loser sung hanbin x boxer reader

m.list

pairing: sung hanbin x fem!reader

synopsis: reader helps hanbin get revenge on his bully

words: 1.3k

you were doing your usual routine of roaming the halls during the lunch period at school. you told yourself it was calming, and you didn’t need to spend lunch with anyone. but it was because you kinda, no not kinda, you literally had no friends.

you weren’t friendless in a “oh she’s so shy, i feel horrible for her” way. people thought you were mean and intimidating off of the first glance. sure, you did play into it with your not so nice attitude. getting yourself into plenty of fights, but hey it was always their fault.

you could hear whimpering coming from around the corner. you contemplated walking in the other direction, not wanting to go by them. but, your curiosity got the best of you. who was crying? you wanted to be nosey and guess what happened to them.

once you turned the corner and caught sight of who it was, you stopped in your tracks. the boy from your math class. why would someone have a problem with him? he only comes to school to do his work. he has a reputation of being the quiet, nice guy.

he glanced up at you, his nose and lips smeared with blood, clutching his stomach in pain. while you were known for being quite mean, you weren't immune to moments of vulnerability. seeing his quivering lips and his tear stained cheeks evoked an unavoidable sense of guilt.

after debating on walking away from him, you finally decided to help him, dragging him to the nurse’s office. you sat next to him while the nurse gave him an ice pack and returned to her desk.

“you could come in with a gun shot wound and they’ll give you frozen vegetables.” you commented, earning a faint giggle from him. “who did that to you?”

“you can just go now.” he looked away.

“come on, i won’t judge.” you nudged him.

“yoon jihyun.”

you looked at him in disbelief. “you’re telling me you let that scrawny ass boy beat you up?”

“hey! you said you wouldn’t judge!”

“okay, i’m sorry. but why would he do that?” you couldn't help but wonder how he managed to find himself in such a situation when he had his nose buried in a textbook 99.9% of the time.

he scratched the back of his head. “well, i said no to cheating on a test for him.”

“come on.” you pulled him up from the chair.

“where are we going?” he jerked his arm back.

raising an eyebrow, you replied. “we’re gonna jump him.”

“i don’t know who you think i am, but i don’t do that stuff.”

“okay, whatever. meet me right after school at the front gate.”

he wasted no time, practically sprinting to the school entrance the moment classes ended. he didn't have the slightest idea about your intentions, but he had no intention of either wasting your time or incurring your wrath.

"good, you're on time. i like that," you commented casually as you walked right past him.

he trailed closely behind. "where are you taking me?"

"you just love asking questions. what's your name?" you inquired.

"sung hanbin."

"my name is—" you began, but he interrupted.

"yn. everyone knows your name."

"now, can you tell me where we're going? this is the opposite direction of my house, and i have to get home to study," he said, glancing at you as you cranked up the music blaring in your headphones.

you finally disclosed the destination to him once you were down the street from it, nudging him to get his attention.

"a gym? i really don't have time for a workout," he said, considering walking away.

"next time you let him beat you like that, he'll do far worse than leave you with cat scratches and a belly ache," you reasoned. "i'm a boxer, i can teach you a thing or two about fighting back."

upon arriving at the gym, you guided him to the octagon. "take it all off," you instructed, gesturing to his school uniform.

"all of it?" he felt a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“no, dipshit. leave some room for imagination.” you began putting on sweatpants and discarding your dress shirt and blazer.

he hesitantly took off his dress shirt, shoes, and blazer. “seriously, are you gonna beat me up next?”

he sounded extremely genuine. you couldn't help but laugh.

the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to teaching him various fighting techniques, but you noticed his gentleness. he wasn't a terrible fighter; he simply held back, unwilling to inflict harm on anyone.

“i don’t want to hurt you!” he held his bands behind his back.

“hanbin, i’m asking you to throw a punch. it doesn’t have to connect” you pulled his arms from behind him.

“but what if it does, then you start bleeding. then you’ll hate me.” he pouted.

hanbin’s mannerisms did warm your heart. at least there was still good people out in the world.

after the training session, you sprawled out on the floor, munching on a granola bar. rolling over, you glanced at hanbin, who sat there with his tank top clinging to his skin, his hair damp, and his gaze fixed on the wall. you had to admit, he looked hot. the school uniform certainly didn't do him justice.

you were oblivious to the fact that he had returned your steady gaze, your eyes moving over his biceps and tracing the veins that snaked up his hands.

"is there something on my face?" he asked in a soft tone.

you couldn't help but laugh at the striking contrast. "if our classmates saw you like this, they'd be all over you," you remarked boldly.

he scratched his head, asking, "is that a good or bad thing?"

you stared at him in disbelief. "i've never met someone simultaneously so smart and dumb, sung hanbin. i was saying that you look really attractive."

“oh! thank you,” a wide smile spreading on his face. “i mean, you’re really.. pretty.” he awkwardly looked away from you, twiddling his thumbs.

the next day, during the lunch period, you concocted a plan to get revenge on jihyun for hurting hanbin. after spending the day with him, you only felt more angry that he left hanbin crying in the hallway.

"wait right here," you instructed as you left hanbin in an empty room.

"sure thing," he replied, taking a seat at one of the desks.

you walked to the cafeteria and scanned it for jihyun, quickly hearing his loud voice. “jihyun! can i talk to you for a second?”

surprisingly, jihyun followed you to the classroom where hanbin was waiting. he pointed at hanbin and asked, "what's this about?"

you rested your hands on your hips. "i'm giving you a chance to apologize to him."

“since when did you of all people become mother theresa.” he laughed. “and you. don’t you feel embarrassed? you can’t handle your stuff like a man? don’t make me bitch you again.”

“don’t talk to him like that,” you punched him square in the jaw.

he looked at you with pure anger before lunging straight at you. pushing you against a desk.

but before his fist could connect, hanbin held his arm back and forced him to the ground. jihyun tried getting up, but hanbin repeatedly punched him.

you stood off to the side wanting to stop him from sending jihyun to the hospital, but you were highkey impressed. he definitely always had that in him.

hanbin stopped once jihyun stopped fighting back.

“damn, hanbin. not bad.” you held out your fist.

“i’m telling the principal. i’m getting him expelled!” jihyun cried out.

you saw a flash of panic on hanbin’s face. the last thing he wanted was to get in trouble in school. did you corrupt him?

“you’re not gonna get in trouble,” you reassured him. “i’ll take the blame.”

“no, you can’t. it’s my fault you’re in this mess anyway.”

“my highest grade is a D+. i don't think they’ll lose sleep if i get into another scuffle."

“you people make me sick.” jihyun held his nose and ran out the room.

you two laughed at his dramatic reaction.

“hanbin, you’re cool in my book.”

“you were always cool in my book.” he responded.

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frankenkyle19 · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 2: Food-play With Peter Maximoff

word count: 4k

Description/warnings: Food play, Oral (both male and fem receiving), unprotected sex, fast fucking (it’s Peter, so it’s fast fast), Peter being a goof

Peter had to admit it. He had some… odd kinks. Or… unique interests is what he liked to call them. He didn’t have a ton of experience but he did have a very vivid imagination. He wasn’t too eager to share some of his kinks, but maybe, just maybe this one wouldn’t be too weird? I mean it wasn’t by any means considered normal or vanilla, but it also wasn’t hardcore at all.

It was no surprise that Peter had a bit of a sweet tooth. Constantly snacking on something that contained high levels of sugar. It kept his blood sugar up and his metabolism didn’t burn through it as fast, and… it tasted good. So why wouldn’t he like it?

Twinkies, whipped cream, cakes and ice creams. Peter liked it all and could probably eat it for every meal if he was allowed. Protein? A balanced meal? What’s that?

Peter was also into all sorts of freaky stuff. He’s definitely not the kind of dude to be vanilla. He had outrageous ideas that usually turned off most of the partners he’s had in the past. They weren’t too wild, but still, it just hadn’t been their thing and that was okay with Peter. It didn’t make him want to test out these things any less though.

Once he met you everything changed, as cheesy as it sounds. You’re down for anything and everything that Peter brings to the table. He kept it chill for a while, not wanting to scare you off, but you were always down to clown with him and would hear him out for any idea he had, no matter how odd.

So when he brought this idea up to you, you laughed right in his face. Not because it was an odd or even bad idea, but because he had been so shy to bring it up to you in the first place.

“I want to cover you in whipped cream and syrups and lick it off you. Y’know? Like- it’s called food play. I really wanna try it. The idea really fucking turns me on baby- why are you laughing?!”

Peter watched you for several seconds before your fits of laughter subsided, leaving you to catch your breath as you shook your head. Peter was kinda freaking out. Why were you laughing? Oh god were you laughing at him?

You finally managed to catch your breath as you looked at the silver haired mutant in front of you.

“Peter- I- I mean I’m totally down to do that with you, but why were you so nervous to ask me? It’s not like anything outrageously freaky. Did you really think I’d say no?” You questioned.

Peter sighed and covered his face shyly with his hands before peeking out at you.

“I was just-“ his voice was muffled from his hands covering his face.

“I just was… I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time and was worried you’d shoot the idea down. It’s like- one of my fantasies.” Fantasies. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn’t in some cheesy porno. Get yourself together, Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at how shy he’d become. Peter. The man who always had a comeback for everything. A snarky response to absolutely anything. You realized then that he truly had been nervous to tell you this.

“I’m not like that Peter. Sure, there’s things I don’t like but I’d be honest with you. You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me your interests. I want you to be happy and I’m more than happy to try out new things with you.”

Peter let his hands fall from his face as his dimples peeked out, a big shit eating grin that showed you that he was back to his normal goofy self. Goofball…

“I’ve got a bunch of ideas baby- whipped cream, chocolate syrup, honey, ooo cherries. You’ll be my own personal sundae.” He began, eyes darting around as he fidgeted with his hands, something he did when he was trying to stay still and keep himself relatively calm. He never stayed still, some part of him always needing to move to get out pent up energy.

“Okay I’ll be- I’ll be right back-“ and without another word, Peter was gone, your hair messily flying around in the wind his quick escape created.

He was only gone three minutes tops and came back with two grocery bags on his arms, still grinning ridiculously.

“I really really hope you paid for all that, Peter.”

“Pfffft, course I did babe. Who do you think I am?” He chuckled, but you just knew he was lying. What were you going to do with him? Your little thief. Stealing lots of things, including your heart.

Peter impatiently gestured to the bags on his arms before nodding his head towards the bed, body buzzing with excitement. He was beyond ready for this.

“So, what do I have to do?” You asked curiously as you made your way towards the bed, Peter at your heels.

“Ah you just lay back and relax baby. Enjoy the rideee”

You rolled your eyes but nodded, pulling off your shirt and pants, leaving you in just your undergarments

“Take these off too?” You asked curiously, to which he nodded enthusiastically, setting the bags down at the edge of the bed, he began sorting through the various items he had ‘bought’ (stolen)

You and Peter weren’t shy around each other. Peter would walk around naked all the time if it was socially acceptable. You on the other hand were a bit more wary about being nude, but Peter never judged you or your body. In fact, the opposite. He praised you like a goddess, treating you with so much love as well as respect. It made your heart flutter. Despite how goofy and dumb he could be at times, Peter was respectful and loving beyond your wildest imagination.

So, you slipped off your bra and panties before laying back on the bed, feet shoving the bags of food items to the side a bit to give you some more room, causing a huff from Peter who was still sorting through things.

The silver haired mutant froze in his tracks when he saw your figure. He whistled lowly and shook his head as he bit his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Damn baby, you’re smokin’. I’m so fucking excited for this you have no idea-“ he said, pulling the rest of the items from the bags before tossing the plastic onto the floor. No wonder his room was always so messy…

He crawled over you and pulled you into a kiss, eager to get things started. You humored him for a moment but shook your head, cupping his cheek

“You are wearing far too much right now, Peter. I think it’s only fair that you take a few… layers off.” You said, gesturing to your own naked body.

You had intended for him to take them off slowly, give you a little show, but why would he do that? That wasn’t practical and he never did anything slow. He ripped his clothes off faster than your eyes could catch up with before moving off the bed to grab something from the bags.

His cock was half hard between his thighs, a bush of silver curly hairs covering his crotch, trailing up into a sparse trail of hairs that met his belly button. What was it about his dumb, silver hair that drove you nuts?

He grabbed a can of whipped cream first, shaking it as he looked you over. How did he score someone as hella smoking as you?

You just smiled up at him, watching curiously as he lowered the tip of the whipped cream can to your shoulder, pressing down as a small swirl of whipped cream came into contact with your skin. You shivered a bit, not expecting it to be so cold, but the cold feeling was soon replaced by something much much warmer.

Peter’s tongue lapped at the whipped cream eagerly, his teeth even nipping on your skin a bit as he made sure to clean it all up. He licked his lips as he pulled away, eyes now a much darker shade of brown then before, pupils blown wide.

“Damn. We should have done this so much sooner.” Was all he said, reaching for the can again as he placed another dollop of cold whipped cream onto your body. Right above your left breast.

He once more leaned down and carefully licked up the sweet cream before he made it to your skin underneath, giving gentle kisses here and there as he let his tongue trace over you.

You hummed softly, closing your eyes and relaxing into the bed. This wasn’t exactly… anything special so far. But you knew it’d eventually get there. So the anticipation was truly the best part. It was a waiting game.

You flinched at the sudden sound and feeling of the whipped cream being poured onto your breasts, your eyes shooting open as you looked up at Peter. His eyes were so dark they were hard to make out as he leaned down, licking over your hardened buds as the white cream met his tongue. He moaned softly, and once each breast was cleaned, he sucked them into his mouth, one at a time, looking up at you with the most ridiculously innocent look he’d given this whole time. Damn him..

“Peterrrr '' you whined softly, chest arching into the feeling of his warm, wet mouth. You were beginning to grow a bit impatient, ready for more. You always hated his teasing. It drove you nuts.

Peter just grinned mischievously, setting the whipped cream down on his bedside table before reaching for something else.

Chocolate syrup.

“Jesus Peter, you’re going to make a mess-“

“Nope! I happen to have an expert tongue that’ll get it all cleaned up.” He said suggestively as he struggled a bit to open the container. Once he did though, he leaned over you again, going lower this time as he began to drizzle the sticky dark syrup onto your stomach, making you cringe a bit. You’d definitely be showering later to get all the sticky remnants off of your body.

Peter set the syrup down next to the whipped cream before pulling back to get a good view of you. And god damn did you look good.

His tongue traced the chocolate down down down, until he was at your core. He blew onto your dripping cunt as he grinned wickedly.

Oh you’d get him back for this…

He continued to tease you like this for several moments and you debated kicking him in the groin for it.

But finally sweet relief came as the first swipe of his tongue swept over your weeping cunt. A quiet cry left your parted lips as you looked down to see his head of silver hair, the rest of his features hidden from your view as he began to eat you out vigorously.

Usually he’d tease the hell out of you before just going at it, but maybe he realized he’d teased you enough already. Or maybe he was just that desperate to get a taste of you. Peter would definitely say it was the latter.. He hadn’t always been an expert at eating you out. You had basically taught him everything he knows now, being he wasn’t very experienced with anything when you two first met. And god did your teaching pay off.

Peter brought the pad of his thumb to rest against your clit as a buzzing sensation of pleasure surged through you. That little shit was vibrating his fucking thumb. It was so much that it was almost torturous, and you gasped, trying to wriggle away from the overwhelming touch. You had a love hate relationship with how he abused his powers in the bedroom, the pleasure so overwhelming but so blindingly good.

Peter just laughed, and that’s when you had finally had enough. You sat up, confusing Peter before you tackled him back onto the bed, shaking your head as you used all your strength to pin him. Realistically you knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, but he was humoring you, curious to see what you had planned.

You grabbed the whipped cream off of the table and tapped the tip of it to Peter’s mouth, signaling for him to open, which he did. You sprayed some of the cream into his mouth, keeping him quiet for several moments as he worked on swallowing it.

In the meantime, your hand came to wrap around his hard length, causing him to yelp in surprise at the sudden stimulation. He nearly choked on the whipped cream as he tried to prop himself up a bit, eyes laser focused on the way his cock slid through your hand.

Peter finally managed to swallow the whipped cream he had in his mouth, finally able to moan out in pleasure at your touch. God you were soooo fucking good at this. It was unreal. You’d been touching him for like .5 seconds and he was already ready to bust.

He was hot and hard in your hand, causing you to shiver a bit at the thought of him inside you. No matter how many times you two were intimate, he always felt magical inside you. Each and every time.

“Hand me the whipped cream, Peter-“ you hummed, stroking over the tip, collecting the pre-cum there and spreading it over his length.

“Why?” Peter decided to question. He always questioned everything anyone ever did. He wasn’t the brightest in the bunch but was always curious.

“Jesus Pete can you just hand it to me? I’ll show you.” You had stopped stroking him to reach for the can, which he quickly handed over to you, eyebrows furrowed in a curious sort of confusion.

Soon enough, his confusion turned into shock as you carefully squirted a little bit of whipped cream onto the tip of his cock, causing him to jump. His cock twitched lightly, causing the whipped cream to wobble, nearly making you laugh.

Setting down the bottle, you took the base of Peter’s cock back into your hand to hold it steady as you leaned down, ready to clean the sweet cream from his cock.

“Woah wait are you being for real right now holy shit oh my goddddd-“ He got cut off with a whine of his own, watching with intensity as you licked the whipped cream off of him before suckling his tip into your mouth, the cream mixing with his own cream.

“There’s- no fucking way this is actually h-happening right now holy shitttt” Peter gasped, hand coming up to run through his sweaty silver hair, pushing it back and off of his forehead as he watched your every move. Your eyes met his own as you suckled on the head of his cock, coaxing a moan from his throat as he swallowed hard, hips subconsciously shifting up to try and get more of the feeling.

“Fuck please- gotta give me more then that baby, feels so nice- god damn-“ he cursed, writhing against the bed as you took him deeper into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag lightly.

Peter sighed heavily, stomach muscles tensing as he leaned down and gently caressed your hair, his big hands massaging your scalp as you bobbed your head on his dick.

Soon enough, Peter began to subtly vibrate, just like he always did when he was getting close to his release. Luckily enough for you, you’d learned that from experience and knew to pull away.

With one final kiss to the tip of his red, throbbing cock, you crawled your way back up to him, smiling softly as you kissed him. Sex with Peter was so hot and erotic, but in the same beat so soft and comforting. You felt so safe in his arms.

“So, is this living up to your expectations so far?” You asked against his lips, smiling softly as you leaned over him.

“Better- god so much better-“ he shook his head, laughing softly as he pulled you into a kiss before flipping you over onto the bed, getting between your thighs as something popped into his mind. Another idea, but this time he wasn’t as shy in asking.

“Can I try out another fantasy of mine?” He asked, stroking his cock before he rubbed the tip against your clit, causing you to moan softly, arching your hips up against his. And in this kind of situation, how could you say no to anything he asked to try? It was simple. You couldn’t.

“W-what is it?” You asked, breath heavy as you bit your bottom lip between your teeth, looking down as he slid his cock between your folds, teasing you as he let his tip slip in before pulling back.

“Want to cum inside you. Fill you up. Be my little cream pastry.”

He had such an awful way with his words, the sensual moment gone, replaced with a laugh from you as you grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down closer to you.

“That’s fine Peter, I’m on the pill but I- never call me your little cream pastry ever ever again.”

“Aww, really? I thought it was kinda hot..” he sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Definitely not, now get on with it, Quicksilver, I don’t have all day.” You pulled him closer, gripping onto his shoulders as he finally slipped inside of you, his arousal mixed with your own making it all too easy for him to slide in with zero resistance.

“Jesus Christ-“ he moaned out, gripping onto the bed on either side of your head tightly as he rocked into you, his heavy balls slapping against you with each thrust.

“F-fuck baby- fuck Peter so good to me, so good Quickie.” You moaned out, wrapping your legs around him as he sped up his thrusts. He could go fast. Freakishly fast, but he always waited for your word to go for it, not wanting to hurt you.

“You’re so good to me” Peter cooed as he thrust into you, his cock hitting spots so deep inside you it made you ache, pleasure mixed with a hint of pain. “Too good to me- letting me try out my kinks with you- so- so fucking nice to me.” He grunted, hair falling into his face as his breathing quickened. You knew neither of you were going to last long, too desperate for release.

“We’re going to be so sticky, Peter.” You giggled, out of breath as you clawed at his shoulders. Each time he thrust into you the air got knocked out of your lungs.

You could see that he was restraining himself. Holding back from how fast he really wanted to go. Poor thing, it was always such a struggle for him, trying to go the speed of the world when he just wanted to speed through everything.

“Peter-“ you spoke gently, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. He peeked up at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Y-yeah?” He panted out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, licking at the skin there as if you were his own personal candy.

“Faster baby, you know I can take it, I’ve taken it before.” You whispered against his ear, and it nearly had him cumming right then and there. Holy fuck, it was the conformation he needed, and he wasted absolutely no time at all. He braced his hands on the headboard, letting his fingers curl around the wood until his knuckles turned white.

He sped up in the blink of an eye, fucking you so fast and hard that it was bordering on painful. His groin slapped against your clit in such a way that caused you to moan out, the friction being just what you needed.

“There we go- fuck- such a good boy, such a fast boy” you moaned out, your words were punchy, each time he thrust back into you, you choked on a cry, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

He reached down between the two of you, rubbing his thumb over your clit perfectly, and if that wasn’t enough, a subtle vibrating had erupted from Peter, not only was his thumb vibrating subtly, but his cock was as well, buzzing inside your warm, tight walls, making you choke out another ragged moan.

Peter was barreling towards the finish line, but he always needed to have you finish first. Not just because he was a gentleman, but because the spasms of your cunt around his cock when you released caused a much more intense, pleasurable orgasm for himself.

“Please cum for me baby, please need it so bad-“ he whined, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. His bottom lip was bitten tightly between his teeth as he tried so hard to restrain himself from cumming.

It didn’t take much more for you to fall off the edge. The way his thumb was vibrating against your clit with just the right amount of please, the way his cock hit spots deep inside you that made you see stars. It was a recipe for the perfect orgasm if there ever was one.

Your back arched as you clawed at his shoulders, burying your face against his chest as you came with a cry, your whole body shaking as pleasure coursed through each and every bone in your body.

When he felt you clench around him, Peter was a goner. He gave a few more half hearted thrusts into you before he came deep inside your walls as you clenched around him, milking him for everything he had.

It was almost too much for Peter, the way your walls hugged him tightly, pulsing around his now sensitive cock. He stayed inside you for several more moments before pulling out, watching the trail of his cum that leaked out of you, and damn. If he hadn’t just came so hard, he’d be ready for round two.

He collapsed next to you, looking over at you with a goofy smile. Hair all fucked up, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. He looked wild in the most beautiful way possible.

“That was-“ he panted, at a loss for words as he turned to face you, his hand reaching out to gently caress your side.

“That was the best sex we’ve ever had. Hands down.” He laughed softly, his breathing beginning to calm as he came down from his high. It was so intense, it took him much longer to recover than usual.

“We need to shower.” You grimaced, feeling the remnants of chocolate and whipped cream beginning to dry and become tacky.

“Babeeee- in a little bit, let me revel in how good this way-“

You shook your head, cupping his cheek as you placed a kiss to his lips, tasting the leftover chocolate as well as your own arousal.

“We can have more fun in the shower. Only if you’re up for it though-“ you said, shrugging as you sat up. If he didn’t want to shower with you, you’d just do it by yourself.

“Hey! Wait!” Peter sat up with lightning speed, his abused cock giving a pathetic twitch of interest as he crawled across the bed to you, grabbing your hand. He had the most pathetic pout on his face you’d ever seen.

“Pleaseee? I’m coming! I’ll shower right now!” He said, standing up, picking you up with him before he sped off to the shower, setting you on the side of the tub as he got the water to the perfect temperature.

“Ready for round two?” He said, the biggest smirk ever set on his lips. Dear lord, you were in for a longgg night.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #quicksilver smut #xmen quicksilver #quicksilver #peter maximoff #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fanfiction

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rednephew · 9 months

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✧ — ⋆ " I deserved better. "

#✧ — ⋆ i’m not good at imagination stuff okay?! ; ic #im bitter about the finale again #the “huey season”

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thehighladywrites · 2 months

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this is not a request just. thinking. ik you’re writing the boys as plugs but have we considered. the women.

elain would %100 make her own edible pastries and give them to you in those colourful baggies with a bow. she’d invite you over to “make sure the new recipe I use is good for the next batch.” the watch movies and end up napping on the couch type

feyre would be the best if you’re a newbie and ever curious about anything. %100 is a bit of a push over for you and sometimes gives you a lil gram extra and offer to smoke with you. she would probably teach you (if you dont know) why you should put ice in your bong. i just know she smokes and paints. probably does art nights with you.

Nesta is pretty abrupt, definitely a one and done we dont small talk plug, but she is there for you if you need (like if you’re a newbie and greened out or paranoid or whatever) because she knows how scary it can be to feel out of control with your body. (replace her trouble with canon alcoholism with getting high every night. she knows how it can get to you.) tells you to drink water and sleep it off but is still hanging around when you wake up ‘just in case’.

mor is the plug thats more like a friend. would end up smoking half of the stuff she just sold you because you guys wanted to sesh and hang out. probably gossips about her other customers when you two get really close

idk anything for amren she probably only uses like cbd oils idk :/

anon i dont even know what else to add, this is so perfect😭😭😭 yess i’m agreeing with everything

also amren would probs smoke joints. i imagine her having one between her long manicured nails, she probs use magic on them to make them even more strong/she mixes in some crazy shit orrrr she has a cart, a fancy ass pen with diamonds and gem stones. when she offers u a hit, ur high for hourssss her shit goes crazy tbh, it’s probably borderline venomous

elain would have her own garden where she grows her supply, i imagine she’s a girl plug who have the cutest packages, they’re all pink with cute stickers that say “thanks for supporting my small business”

feyre is the curious one, down to try literally anything. so down to earth and would get high with you and paint you naked. she has one of those loose shirts with buttons and a pair of shorts, her hair is loosely braided as she mixes her colors, she’s so hot i literally need her rn

nesta is so real, like the helping out when u green out part is so accurate. ut her fav customer and she wants to make sure ur okay, she says it’s because she doesn’t wanna loose clients but in reality she likes u. she also throws in extra g’s but doesn’t say shit ab it

mor is forsure the friend turned plug, she put you on to her supply and ever since u buy everything from her. fav activity is eating infused food in public/meetings and trying to act normal. like at the high lords meeting, you eat a shit ton of edibles and then try to concentrate but it’s very obvious bc you both look stoned and you’re paying too much attention to peoples words, it’s not natural

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daisyrb-gvf · 3 months

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Wet Ink and Burning Ice-DRW

d.r.w. x f!reader

Words: 9.7k

Okay, you guys. This is the reason I haven't posted chapter 4 of "Cruising Into Love." Ya girl got too feral and needed to let some stuff out....so here you go!

Summary: Your boyfriend Danny has been bulking up, and you have some new ideas for how to break in those new muscles.

Warnings: 18+ readers only!!!!

explicit sex, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, arm riding(!), edging, orgasm denial, bondage, spanking, slight degradation, ice play, foul language, some cheesy love because I can't help myself, INSANELY HOT DANIEL WAGNER!!!! Let me know if I missed anything!

“Alright, you two. I’m heading out,” Sam says to you and Danny, slapping his hands on his knees and pressing himself up off the oversized chair in yours and Danny’s living room. The credits from the movie you were all watching roll across the screen as Sammy slips on his Birks and heads toward the front door.

“Bye, Sammy!” you say with a smile.

“See you tomorrow, Sam,” Danny says, gently shifting you off of his chest and placing a pillow underneath you.

“See you then, Daniel,” Sam calls out, closing the door behind him with a click, as your beautiful curly-headed boyfriend heads toward the kitchen.

“Do you want another glass of wine, honey?” You hear him open the fridge and crack open a can of beer.

“Yes, please! Thank you, baby!” you call out, sitting up on the couch.

Danny rustles around in the pantry and pulls out an unopened bottle of wine. You and Sam had finished off the first one throughout the course of the evening, all of you laughing and enjoying another one of Sam’s amazing meals before settling down to watch a movie. You hear the cork pop off and the liquid pour into your glass before Danny makes his way back into the living room.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you your glass with that heart-melting boyish smile that makes you weak in the knees. You wonder if you’ll ever get tired of that-if that feeling will ever fade? Definitely not you think to yourself as he leans in to kiss your forehead. No, after two years together, you still feel that same delicious heartache that you felt the moment you laid eyes on him. Gazing at him from across the bar, watching him laugh that goofy little laugh while he got drunk with his brothers, not a care in the world. His eyes met yours and locked in and that was that. Love at first sight, as cheesy as that sounds. Maybe it is, but you don’t care. You knew at that moment that he was the love of your life, and he knew it too.

“What are you thinking about, angel?” Danny asks, sitting on the floor between your legs, his body halfway turned to face you, and his head resting against your knee.

You caress his sweet face with your hand, tracing your forefinger along his perfectly chiseled jaw as he gazes up at you with an expression that can only be described as pure love. “The night we met,” you smile, leaning down to kiss him on his sharp, angled nose dusted with the most adorable freckles.

He leans over and kisses your knee opposite the one he is resting on. “That was a good night,” he replies, gazing up at you again, gently stroking your calf with his free hand, the other still holding his beer.

A laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Danny looks at you curiously, chuckling. “What’s so funny?” he smiles, sitting up straighter.

“Just imagining how grossed out Sam would be if he were still here. You know he thinks we are the cheesiest, most nauseating couple on the planet,” you giggle again.

Danny chuckles back, “In his defense, he’s probably right, but he’ll get it one day when he finds the right person.”

“Oh I can’t wait to give him shit the day that happens,” you say with a smirk.

“You and me both!” Danny laughs, leaning back again, his shoulder in between your legs leaning on the couch cushion. “You want to watch something else?” he asks, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table.

“Yeah, sure! You pick.”

Danny scrolls through the list of movies on the screen, settling on one you’ve both seen a thousand times.

“Caddyshack? Again?” you groan, tossing your head back and running your hand over your face.

“Hey! You said I can pick!” he laughs, turning up the volume.

You play with his soft, dark brown curls tickling your knee while you drink your wine, lovingly rolling your eyes at your boyfriend as he laughs at the same lines he’s heard thousands of times. You would be perfectly happy if you never watched this movie again, but you do love that goofy laugh, and the way his eyes crinkle when something really gets him belly laughing. You finish off your wine and hand the glass to him as he tips his can of beer back, swallowing the last few drops. He leans over to set the glass and can both on the coffee table, the muscles in his shoulders and arms more visible with his reach. The few glasses of wine you had already made you clench and shift slightly in your seat. Danny knows you get extra horny for him when you drink red wine, and you know that’s why he offered you another glass earlier. Not that you would have needed it. You’re fucking feral for this man stone-cold sober 24/7. He extends his arms above his head and then out to the sides, stretching with a yawn before leaning back to his previous position. Oh, for fucks sake. You’re already feeling flushed just from his stretch. You lazily run your finger across his shoulder and bicep, tracing the outline of each beautiful muscle. Ever since he started hanging out with Dave, Danny has started to bulk up. They’re “gym bros” now, as you love to call them, poking fun at your boyfriend. But you can’t deny, you are loving the results of the work he is putting in. You bite your lip, shifting in your seat again.

“You doing okay up there?” Danny asks, turning his head slightly, but keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Oh yeah. I am just fine,” you reply suggestively, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek as you slide your hand down the front of his white “The Thing With Feathers” band t-shirt. He cut the sleeves off the sides, exposing his arms, shoulders, and the sides of his torso. Everyone thinks he’s so sweet and humble, and yeah, sometimes he is, but he also loves to show off for all of his screaming fans, and for you, of course. You feel the ripples of his pecs and obliques under the soft touch of your fingertips and he shudders. Turning around, he looks up at you through his long, dark lashes, the sparkle of gold and green flecks in his eyes making your breath hitch.

“Does my girl want to play?” he grins wickedly, licking his lips.

“You know I do. And I know you do by how wine drunk you got me tonight,” you giggle.

“What can I say? You just do it for me, baby,” he winks as you giggle again. “What are you thinking about?”

“How I’m really glad you and Dave became friends,” you reply, your eyes exploring every inch of his upper body.

“Interesting thought to get you all worked up, but I suppose he is pretty hot,” Danny smirks.

God, that makes you want him even more. The way he can just openly talk about his guy friends being attractive with no weird stigma around it. He just calls it like he sees it, and he sees it for what it is: Dave Welsh is, in fact, pretty hot.

“You’re definitely right about that,” you giggle as you lean in to kiss the shell of his ear, his head lolling off to the side, giving you better access. “But I’m referring to how bulked up you’ve gotten since you gym bros started hanging out.” Your voice is low and sultry in his ear and his eyes flutter in response.

“Do you have to call us that?” he chuckles, his voice low and soft and his eyes still fluttering as you nip at his ear lobe.

“What would you prefer I call you, hmm?” you ask, speaking barely above a whisper as you kiss his neck softly.

“I don’t know…I think maybe ‘friends’ would suffice,” he chuckles, his breath hitching when you bite his neck, soothing it with a swipe of your tongue.

You giggle and reply, “No…that just doesn’t fit quite right. See, you’re friends with Sammy and the twins, but you don’t have that special homoerotic ‘gym bro’ connection that you have with Dave. I’m sticking with gym bros.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him, feeling the strong, sinewy muscles across his chest and kissing his impossibly soft, freckle-dusted shoulder.

“Homoerotic, huh?” he smirks, gently caressing his calloused hands over your arms.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” You shift to the other side of his body, peppering kisses on his other shoulder.

“And does my dirty girl like that? Thinking about her ‘homoerotic’ boyfriend and his ‘gym bro’ lifting weights, standing over each other to spot one another, our faces dangerously close to the others’ crotch?” he laughs.

“You say that like a joke, but yes, in fact, your dirty girl does like that,” you giggle, running your hands down his abs before moving them back up and over his shoulders. “But right now all I can focus on are these shoulders and arms. Fuck, they are just doing something for me.”

He chuckles, “You know you’re gonna give me a big head talking about my body so much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, pulling back to sit up straight on the edge of the couch. “You got a big head during your last tour when all of the girls started losing their damn minds over you and that hot body.”

“Maybe so,” he smirks, “but you’re the only one who gets this ‘hot body.’ He turns around to kneel before you, running his hands slowly up your thighs. “So tell me, angel, what do you want to do to it? I’m all yours.”

“Well, I…I have this idea,” you start as your face turns a deep shade of red.

He looks at you concerned for a moment. “What is it, baby? You know you can tell me anything. You don’t need to be embarrassed with me.” He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“Um, it’s…well, it’s kinda different, I suppose,” you fidget with your hands.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. You know I just want to make you feel good. I want to give you what you want, okay?” He leans in to kiss your forehead, his lips warm and soft.

“Okay,” you start, your nerves relaxing a little, “well, you know how I love to ride your thighs, right?”

He flashes that beautiful bright white smile, “Oh, yeah I do.”

“Do you think maybe…um, maybe I could…try to uh…ride y-your…arms?”

He releases a sharp exhale from his nose, his body tensing, causing his muscles to flex oh so deliciously. Grabbing both sides of your face, he goes in for a deep, passionate kiss, groaning into your mouth. “I fucking love you, you know that baby?” he says as he pulls back, resting his forehead on yours.

You’re so relieved by his response, your nervous tension immediately fades away as you drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him flush with your body. “So, is that a yes?” you giggle.

“That’s a hell yes,” he replies with that ridiculously sexy smile, kissing you again. “I’m not completely sure how to go about it, but we will figure it out together, okay?” His eyes are so full of adoration, you wonder why you were nervous to ask him? Your heart feels like it could literally burst from how much you love this man. He pulls back from the kiss and you gaze at him, just taking in his beauty that you will never tire of. He allows this for a moment, gazing back at you and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he just can’t hold back anymore. He presses you back against the couch a little roughly and you bite your lip with a wicked grin, loving how eager he is for this. “You’re so fucking sexy, y/n,” he groans as he kisses and bites along your neck, licking a long strip from the base of your neck up to your ear. “Say it,” he commands.

“I-I’m so fucking sexy,” you say, breathlessly, feeling a little silly, but already so lost in him that you don’t care.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he whispers, biting your earlobe just enough to sting before gently sucking on it. You whimper at his praise and start to tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head haphazardly. Grasping his shoulders, you pull him in and kiss him deeply again, letting your hands roam all over his perfectly sculpted torso, arms, and shoulders. “Mmm you just can’t get enough can you?” He licks his bottom lip and flashes that devilish grin again.

“You have no fucking idea, Daniel,” you moan, reaching for the fly of his pants, fumbling to undo the button and pull down the zipper. He groans when you slide your hand into his tight, skinny jeans, cupping him while sucking on his bottom lip.

He grips your wrist and pulls your hand out, pinning it above your head. “Not yet. I’m going to take my time tonight. Make sure you get off on my arms, you filthy little slut.” You whimper and arch your back, begging for him to touch you, lick you, kiss you, bite you…anything. You just need to feel more of him. “Mmm nope. Not until you say it. What are you, y/n?”

You turn bright red as your breathing intensifies further. “I-I’m a filthy little slut.” The way he talks to you when he gets like this sets your whole body on fire. It’s so unlike him to talk to you this way. In fact, he was uncomfortable with it at first when you told him you liked it. He didn’t like calling you names or doing anything other than adore and praise you, but once he saw how hard you got off from it, he was on board 100%.

“Yes you are, angel. My filthy little slut.” He gives you a wet, messy kiss, so desperate to taste as much of you as possible, before moving down to lick and suck down your chest, biting your peaked nipples through your cropped tank top. You shove the straps down your arms, rolling down the top until your breasts pop out with a bounce. He looks so desperate to taste you as he dives in, biting, sucking, practically abusing your chest, leaving bite marks and hickies-marking his territory. He’s animalistic right now. Your hands grip his silky soft curls, tugging on them with each excruciating bite. Fuck, he makes the pain feel so good. Working his way down your stomach, he rips your shorts off of you roughly, exposing your completely soaked light pink cotton panties.

Danny sighs and his eyes flutter for a moment, taking in the view. “Oh, baby…such a good fucking girl. So wet for me already.” He dives in, running his perfectly angled nose along your heat, his tongue following suit. You moan louder than expected, considering there is still fabric between you and his mouth. “Yeah? You like that, baby?” he goads, rubbing his thick middle finger in feather-light circles over your clit.

“Yes, Danny,” you whimper, “Oh God yes,” you say louder as he increases the pressure. You thrust into his hand, but he pulls back and grips your hips, slamming you back down onto the couch cushions. Your brow furrows and you whimper pathetically, so desperate for his touch again. He leans in and bites the skin just below your belly button, causing you to cry out and wince. Yanking you by your arms back into an upright position, he stands and towers over you, gripping your chin and tugging it up so you can look him in the eyes.

“You’re going to cum exactly four times tonight-no more, no less. Do you understand me?” He’s an angel straight from hell, bound and determined to drag you down with him, and you have absolutely no desire to fight against it.

“Yes sir,” you reply shakily. He roughly glides his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down before sliding it into your mouth so far back that you gag. He grits his teeth at the sound, and you can see his cock twitch through his jeans.

Danny moves to sit on the floor again between your legs, as you sit on the edge of the seat. Moving sideways, he positions his right shoulder in between your thighs, just inches away from your throbbing clit, practically pulsing through your panties. You sit still for a moment, waiting for direction, not sure what to do and a little nervous.

“Well, come on, sweetheart. This is what you wanted, right? Do it,” he demands, looking up at you through his dark, long lashes, smirking and biting his lip.

You slowly inch forward just a bit as Danny tenses and flexes his arm, glancing over and smirking. Such a show off. You take a deep, shaky breath, suddenly feeling embarrassed again. This is so weird, right? Wanting to ride your boyfriend’s arms?! He seems into it, but what if he gets freaked out?

“Angel,” his soft, kind voice pulls you out of your spiral. Reaching over with his left hand, he caresses your calf and looks up at you with those beautiful, sparkling hazel eyes filled with so much love . “Please don’t ever feel uncomfortable with me, okay? I love you. This isn’t weird if we don’t want it to be. Don’t think. Just feel,” he presses his shoulder in between your thighs, closing the gap. You gasp at the sensation, realizing just how badly you needed to feel any part of him between your legs. Gripping at his left arm that has moved up to your thigh, you slowly start to grind on him, right on top of his new tattoo, a symbol he created to represent the moon phase on the day he was born. It’s beautiful and unique and so…Danny. It feels incredibly intimate and almost forbidden to ride that particular part of his body. The sight of it causes your eyes to flutter as a moan escapes from your lips. Even through your panties, you can see his shoulder starting to dampen. His jaw drops as he takes in the scene before him, gripping and kneading your thigh. He fucking loves this. You roll your hips faster, your other hand gripping the silky soft curls on his head as you feel your orgasm start to build.

“Oh my God,” you whisper in shock. “Already?” Your voice is so quiet you didn’t thank Danny could hear, but he did.

“Oh, I knew it wouldn’t take long, sweetheart,” he smirks, looking up at you. “Come on, angel. I want to see you cum all over my shoulder. Right on this tattoo.” Glancing back down, his jaw drops again, a smile breaking through, so pleased and eager to see you fall apart around him.

Loud whimpers and moans escape from you as your legs start to shake, just on the cusp of your orgasm. Danny moves his arm up further, digging his fingers into your hip, surely leaving bruises for you to blush at later. A reminder of this moment with him. He works your hip, urging you to roll your body faster onto him. You cry out his name, repeating it over and over mixed with a string of expletives as you fall apart around him, your nails digging into the sinewy muscle of his other arm, head falling back lazily as you come down, riding out the last few pulses of your orgasm. Leaning forward, you rest your cheek on top of his head, your breathing ragged. He runs his hand over your arm that’s resting on your knee, his right arm tracing an unknown pattern on your calf.

“Fuck, baby. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Why didn’t I think of this?” he chuckles.

You giggle as your breathing starts to regulate. Sitting up, you caress his face as he looks up at you in adoration. “I’m just glad you didn’t think it was too weird.”

“Y/n I would get much weirder than that for you,” he laughs, leaning his head against your knee.

“Oh really? I’m going to hold you to that, Daniel.” You lean down to give him a chaste kiss.

Pulling his arm away slowly, you get a clearer view of the mess you made on his tattoo. Seeing it glisten in the lamplight made you clench. Daniel Wagner is the only man who could make you this horny mere minutes after an orgasm. You’re dying for more already.

He looks down to admire your work as well, in awe. “Wow. And with your panties still on? Baby, let’s see the mess you can make with them off.” He flashes that wicked grin again, turning to face you on his knees, and grasping your hips to lift you up off of the couch into a standing position in front of him. Glancing up at you through those dark, long lashes, he licks a stripe from the waistband of your panties up to your belly button, then moves to kiss and lick along your hips. You close your eyes with a soft sigh, relaxing into him, feeling him, committing every single movement of his mouth against your skin to memory, your hands roaming along his arms and shoulders again, your fingers lingering on his damp tattoo. Hooking his thumbs over the waistband of your panties, he begins to pull them down slowly, continuing to feast on every inch of you, but he stops just short of exposing you and turns you around somewhat aggressively. You gasp in shock. Thankfully, he kept a firm grip on your hips to keep you from falling.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he murmurs, almost like he is just talking to himself. You smile, turning your head to glance at him as you caress your hands over his, still resting on your hips.

“That’s good because you’re stuck with me, Daniel Robert,” you reply with a wink. He glances up at you through his lashes again, but this time he has that adorable lovesick puppy expression plastered on his face. Your heart aches for him and you can’t decide what’s sexier: that look of adoration and longing, or that predatory look of hunger he switches to so quickly.

He peppers the tenderest kisses along the small of your back, his arms dropping to caress your legs, causing goosebumps to prickle up in his wake. Switching from kisses to soft bites and licks, he then slides his big, warm hands up the sides of your thighs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties again. His mouth follows the slow descent of your panties over your ass, devouring the plush skin. You feel his smooth cheek rub against the swell of your ass as he lets out a quiet groan. Switching sides, he repeats his actions on your other cheek before moving down to taste the backs of your thighs.

Whimpering, you tip your head back and whisper, “Please, baby.”

“Please what, angel?” he chuckles, pulling back to remove your panties from around your ankles.

“Please, I need more. Can you give it to me? Give me more, please?” You are whimpery and pathetic, but you don’t care. All sense of pride is thrown out the window and you are putty in his hands.

He groans and kneads his hands into the supple skin of your ass, just barely running his angular nose up your crack, ending with a kiss on the small of your back. You gasp and let out a shaky whimper as you clench. “Is my sweet girl already so eager to make a mess of my other arm?” he asks. God, how is his voice this fucking sexy?

“Yes, baby, I need it. I need you. Please let me cum again, Daniel?” He loves it when you say his name while you beg.

He sighs out a groan before smacking your ass and aggressively turns you around again, shoving you back down on the couch in a seated position. Sitting on his knees directly in front of the sofa, he extends his left forearm along the couch cushion with his palm up, and elbow bent a little wider than a 90 degree angle right next to where you are sitting. “Straddle my arm, y’n,” he commands. You obey and shift to the side, swinging your leg over his head with a giggle as you sit on his forearm. He tenses and flexes all the muscles in his arm to give you a show and create some friction in between your legs. “Scoot forward.” You wiggle your way toward him until your clit is pressed against his bicep, your ass all the way on the edge of the couch. The veins in his arm are popping out as he continues to flex and put on a show for you, and the feel of his forearm underneath you along with your aching clit up against bicep is so fucking delicous your eyes flutter in anticipation. Danny leans forward and grips the back of your neck with his free hand to pull you into a hot, messy, deep kiss. You moan and instinctively grind on him, but he quickly slaps your thigh, leaving behind a sharp sting. You hiss and whimper from the shock of it. He grips your throat, his thumb digging into your pulse point as he leans in, his nose barely brushing yours. “Wait,” he says barely above a whisper through gritted teeth. His dominance makes you clench and you know he felt it because of the wicked chuckle he let out afterward. Keeping his hand on your throat, he moves his thumb to your jaw, jerking your head to the side so he can bite and suck on your neck. You whimper in pain, but it feels so good. His arm underneath you starts to feel slippery and you clamp your eyes shut to focus on staying still as he moves down to aggressively devour your breasts, biting, sucking, licking all over your tits. His free hand moves down to grip your thigh, presumably to keep you steady so he doesn’t have to punish you again. Although he loves to be dominant for you, you know deep down he just craves being sweet to you. You smile for a moment thinking of how tender his action is, even if his fingers are digging so roughly into your thigh that you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Come on baby, please?” You whine again, this time your breathing heavy and ragged, choking back a sob. “You feel so good underneath me. Please let me do it? I promise I’ll make a mess just like you want me to. I’ve been so good, haven’t I?”

“Fuck, baby yes. Ride me,” he groans, his jaw dropping again as he watches you immediately roll your hips on his arm at a quick pace, rubbing your clit against his flexing bicep. You dig your nails into his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense and flex with every roll of your hips as he holds himself steady for you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart? Riding my arm like the depraved little slut you are?” He licks his bottom lip and bites it, feigning a cool attitude, but you see him shift and grind his hips into the sofa. He’s aching for release too. How is he going to wait for two more orgasms? You pick up your pace, thinking about how badly he needs to cum right now, eager to get off so that you’re one step closer to getting him off.

“Yes, Danny,” you moan, staring at his bicep as you grind on it, seeing your juices coat his skin and hearing how wet you are with each slippery roll of your hips against him. He starts to move his arm forward and back, creating more friction, and helping you chase your orgasm since your legs are already shaking. “Oh, God yes, yes yes…” you repeat over and over between whimpers and loud moans.

“There it is, beautiful. Come on, just let it happen. I want to see my arm dripping wet by the time you’re done.” His eyes are hooded and his jaw is dropped again, taking in the sight of you, his fingers still dug deeply in your thigh.

You beat your fist against his shoulder and throw your head back, going rigid as he continues to furiously move his arm beneath you. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, holding your breath until you reach your peak, coming down with a loud cry and whimper of Danny’s name as you flop backward onto the couch, sweaty and spent.

“Oh, fuck,” Danny chuckles with wide eyes.

“What?” you reply, barely able to open your eyes. You twitch as he slowly slides his arm out from under you. It is completely drenched. You turn bright red at the sight of it, your eyes going wide.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you? Doing exactly as you're told,” he leans forward to kiss you on the forehead. “Now taste it.” You blink your eyes at him confused for a moment, still trying to bring yourself back to reality. He swipes two fingers along his arm and brings them to your lips, dipping them into your mouth. “Tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” He lifts his arm up to lick a long, langued stripe, keeping his eyes on you. Your jaw drops watching the scene. He’s so fucking sexy your head is reeling. “Come on, y/n. Lick it up.” You slowly bend down, and lick all the way from his forearm up to his bicep, tasting the salty sweetness you left behind. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, using his other hand to shift his painfully hard length aching to break free from those tight jeans. Kissing him deeply, you moan, tasting yourself on each others’ tongues.

“Come on baby, please let me take care of that for you?” you beg, glancing down at his crotch. “I need it. Please, Danny?” Your whine is pathetic and you know that makes him crazy.

He kisses you roughly, groaning into your mouth and gripping your hair before standing in front of you, your face eye level with his dick. His hands move to tenderly caress your shoulders as he gazes down at you, watching you practically pant in anticipation.

“Well, go ahead, pretty girl. Take what you begged for,” he smirks, licking his bottom lip. God, you love it when he towers over you like this.

Gripping the waistband of his already unbuttoned jeans, you haphazardly tug them down his legs. He kicks them off the rest of the way, helping you out. Wasting no time, you grip his length through his boxer briefs and lick from the base to the tip, dampening the fabric with your tongue. Tipping his head back slightly, he lets out a low groan, one hand resting on his stomach while the other lazily plays with your hair. He twitches when you suck on his tip, already able to taste the salty precum through the fabric.

“Come on baby, give me more or you’ll pay for it later,” he says, already breathless.

You pull back and start to kiss his hip bones and strong, slender thighs, licking a stripe up the inner part of his leg until you reach the hem of his underwear.

“Oh, so my girl wants to be tortured a little tonight, does she? Okay, then. Guess we will find out later if you are going to regret this.” His voice is soft and smooth, but the threat behind it makes you shiver at his words.

You continue your movements for a few more minutes, softly running your lips all over the skin around his underwear, but never getting near his throbbing length except for one little kitten lick over his tip.

“That’s enough, y/n,” he growls, gripping your hair roughly and yanking your head back, causing you to yelp. “Take. Them. Off. Now.” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes dark and animalistic.

Whimpering, you start to pull down his underwear, your hands shaking, not from fear but excitement. He’s about to get rough with you. As soon as they are off, he grips the base of his length and shoves it past your lips, hitting the back of your throat until you choke. He moans and purses his lips, nostrils flaring as he glares at you, pulling out and shoving himself into your mouth harder the second time. You cough around him and he pulls back out, giving you a moment.

“Relax your throat, baby. I’m not going to stop,” he warns. You know that’s not actually true. With two taps of your hand on the back of his calf he would stop immediately and take care of you, but the threat of it has you wet all over again. You drop your jaw and open your throat and he thrusts back into you a bit further. This time you don’t choke, so he starts a steady rhythm, holding the back of your head, but releasing his grip. You hollow out your cheeks and suck hard, sliding your tongue along the underside of his shaft before pulling off with a pop sound. You move to take one of his balls in your mouth before he can push his way back into you. He groans as his other hand slides further down his stomach, the trail of hair beneath his belly button peeking through in between his fingers. Moving back to his dick, you add your hand, moving it in tandem with your mouth, adding a twisting motion as you swirl your tongue around the tip. He moans and tips his head back, gripping your hair as drool starts to drip out of your mouth and gather under your hand, warm and wet. After a minute or so, he grasps your wrist and rips your hand away, shoving himself deep into the back of your throat with his hand gripping the back of your head again. You choke and gag around him, but keep moving with him as he fucks your face furiously, drool dripping down your chin, tears leaking from your eyes, and snot starting to run out of your nose. You’re a fucking mess, and he loves it. Peering down at you, his eyes flutter and his jaw drops, his breathing loud and uneven in between loud moans and whimpers.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Take it. I love the way it sounds when you choke on me like that,” he groans. You try to moan around him, but it’s impossible with how deeply he is fucking into the back of your throat. “You’re such a fucking mess right now. Such a good girl for me…” He trails off into more moans and whimpers for a few seconds before you feel his hips start to twitch and his rhythm falter. Thank God, you feel like you are going to pass out if he doesn’t finish soon. “Yeah, baby. Right there, oh fuck yes, right there.” The pitch of his voice gets higher with each phrase until he moans loudly and repeats your name over and over, holding himself steady in the back of your throat, the warm liquid spurting out as you feel him twitch inside of you. He chokes out one last moan as you swallow around him, slurping up every last drop when he slowly pulls out of your mouth. He pulls you close to him, his hand tangled in your hair still with a looser grip, your cheek resting on his hip bone as you move your hand up to run your fingers through the soft hair on his stomach, his skin just barely damp underneath your fingertips.

“Oh, you did so good baby,” he praises as his breathing starts to stabilize.

After a moment, he grins down at you and then swiftly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass as he carries you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You giggle and reach down to squeeze one of his buttcheeks that you lovingly make fun of all the time. He has the tiniest little butt, especially compared to the Kiszka twins.

“Stop that,” he chuckles, slapping your ass again as he turns to enter your bedroom. You giggle when he throws you down on the bed. He hovers over you for a moment, swiping away the pieces of your hair that had dried and stuck to your face. He gazes at you for a moment. That heartbreaking look of love and adoration in his eyes courses through your veins and makes your breath hitch. After a minute or so, he sits up, straddling you as he takes both of your hands to move above your head. He attaches them to the velcro cuffs that have become a permanent addition to your headboard. You lift your head up and kiss his chest as he leans over, making sure the straps are secure.

Moving back down, he tenderly kisses your forehead. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He walks into the bathroom and you can hear the cabinet door open and the faucet run. He has a damp washrag in his hand as he approaches the bed, laying next to you. “Here, let’s get you cleaned up a bit.” His voice is so tender and soothing, matching the way he runs the rag over your face and chest, wiping off the dried tears, saliva, and snot. If it were anyone else you would feel embarrassed and gross, especially as he gently wipes around your nose, but…it’s Danny. “There, that’s better,” he says, running his eyes over you to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “You okay? Comfortable and everything?” he asks, setting the washrag on the nightstand.

“Yes, baby.” Your heart is pounding as you smile up at him. Not from nervousness or excitement. No, this is from pure love.

He sidles next to you, tracing his finger along your cheek and jaw, leaning in to give you the sweetest, softest kiss you could ever imagine. Moving his finger down to trace along the center of your chest down to your belly button, he leans in and whispers in your ear, “Are you ready for more?”

“God, yes,” you breathe. You are so worked up from getting him off, and you are aching for more. Sweet Danny is tugging at your heartstrings, but you want dominant Danny back for just a little longer.

He wraps his hand around your throat, pressing on your pulse point and traps you in a kiss that steals all of the breath from your lungs. You moan into his mouth, already clenching and squeezing your legs together.

“Mmm my sweet girl is insatiable, isn’t she?” he chuckles against your lips. “So greedy,” he groans before capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking away the sharp pain right afterward.

“You are the one who told me I was going to cum four times tonight, remember? ‘No more, no less’?” you goad.

Danny removes his hand from your throat and slides his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. “From now on, this mouth is only going to be used to let me know how good I’m making you feel or,” he moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “how badly I’m torturing you. Understand?” You whimper and nod your head, unable to respond as his thumb is still pressed down in your mouth. He slides it out pulling down your bottom lip as he bites your earlobe, enough for it to sting and make you yelp. He pulls away and grabs the tank top that’s still bunched around your waist. “Let’s get this off.” He wiggles it down past your hips and over your legs, throwing it on the floor, leaving you completely naked and bound. “You are so fucking beautiful tied up like this for me. Just my little plaything, aren’t you?” He spreads your legs and kneels between them, smirking as he watches you squirm. “Answer me,” he commands in a stern tone.

“Yes. Yes, Danny I’m your plaything. Please just do something? Please touch me?” you beg, clenching around nothing.

“Pathetic little thing already this worked up? And after cumming twice already. Oh, what am I going to do with you?” His smile is so wicked, you know torture is coming your way. He makes his way back up to your face, his nose and lips mere centimeters away. You lean up to close the gap, but he grips your throat tightly and presses you down into the mattress. He chuckles evilly and leans down to tease his lips against yours, swiping his tongue across them before making his way down to your chest, releasing your throat. Soft curls tickle your skin as he leans in to taste you, but he never does. He hovers his lips so close to your body that you almost think you can feel it, but it’s just your brain tricking you. He hovers over your collarbone, neck, breast-spending extra time around your nipple. He even labors his breathing so you can’t feel the sensation of his hot breath on the sensitive buds aching to feel any part of him. Even just a brush of his stomach or something would ease the ache for a moment, but you feel nothing. You want so badly to arch up into his mouth, but you know if you do it will be so much worse. He repeats the action on your other breast and you whimper and jerk on the cuffs, begging him without words. He chuckles again and sticks his tongue out to lick your nipple, but it’s so soft and so fast you wouldn’t even be sure it happened if you weren’t looking. It’s even more infuriating than not having his mouth on you at all.

“Please, Danny. Please,” you whine, pulsing and clenching around nothing again.

“Keep begging, angel. I can do this all night.” He flicks his eyes up at you and grins as he moves down, continuing his movements all over your belly and hips. You do your best not to squirm, but when he hovers over your core you can’t help but roll your hips into his mouth. He immediately sits up and slaps the inside of your thigh. Hard. So hard you know you’ll see a handprint there in the morning. You cry out and whimper, your lip quivering from the sting and the denial of his lips on you where you need them most.

“Oh, such a shame. You were so close to getting what you wanted, but you had to go and get impatient on me,” he mocks, standing up and walking out of the room. Where the fuck is he going? You know better than to ask, but you whine again and squeeze your legs together for just a tiny bit of relief.

What is he doing?! You wonder after a few minutes of laying there naked, tied up, and alone. Wait..is he…laughing? He’s fucking laughing!

Danny is in the living room, checking his phone and laughing at a video that Sam sent to him as he leisurely drinks a beer. After about five minutes or so he moseys into the kitchen, gets a cup from the cabinet and fills it with ice cubes before heading back down the hall. His phone is still in hand as he rounds the corner and steps into the bedroom, eyes locked on the screen as he chuckles at something he is reading-completely unbothered. You look at him with the most pathetic, pouty expression, silently begging him to take mercy on you, but he won’t even look up. He just keeps on reading whatever is on that fucking phone of his. You’re almost on the verge of tears when he finally sets his phone down on the dresser and walks up to the foot of the bed, setting the glass of ice down on the floor next to him.

“So, you think you’re ready to try again, y/n?” he asks, hands on his hips, looking down at you with that evil grin again.

“Yes,” you breathe, doing your best to stay completely still.

“Good girl.” He leans over to grab your hips and flips you over to your stomach. “Get on your knees.”

You wiggle your way up to your knees as quickly as you can, staying completely still once you’re in position, your face against the mattress and your hands gripping the rail of the headboard that the cuffs are attached to. Danny pads over to the bedside table and pulls out the black, silk blindfold he keeps in the top drawer. “Turn your head,” he commands. You turn away from him, facing the other side of the room as he gently wraps the fabric around your eyes and secures it behind your head with a double knot. He makes his way back down to the foot of the bed and you hear him grab the cup of ice, the cubes too loud for him to be very secretive about what he’s going to do-hence, the blindfold. You shiver and tense, trying to prepare yourself for the icy chill that could start at any part of your body, but it’s not happening. It’s hard to gauge time in this predicament, but you know it’s been at least a couple of minutes. He’s really testing you tonight. Finally, you feel the ice press against the back of your thigh and you hiss and flinch from the sensation. He holds it in place long enough for it to melt a bit, causing a droplet of water to run down your leg and land at the back of your knee. Your head is reeling from how intense this feels. It’s overwhelming to the point that you don’t even know what your body is craving anymore. Suddenly, you feel the ice land in between your shoulder blades, another drop of water trailing toward your neck, quickly getting absorbed by the mess of hair around your shoulders. He moves to the side of your breast, another drop of water rolling down and dripping off of your nipple down onto the bed. You whimper again, unsure if you love or hate the sensation. He chuckles, then places a cube at the small of your back, dragging it down achingly slow in between your cheeks all the way until he reaches your clit. You cry out once he lands there, holding it in place. Your brain is scrambled, but you think this hurts. As soon as you register that it does, in fact, hurt, he pulls the ice away and replaces it with his mouth, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and soothing it with his warm tongue. You choke out a sob, realizing just how badly your body was craving him. You had forgotten while you were so on edge, waiting for his next torturous move. He pulls back and you whine as you hear him pick up another ice cube. He doesn’t place it anywhere on your body, though. No, you feel it when his mouth envelopes your clit again. You scream and pull away, but he grips your hips hard, holding you onto him. The mixture of hot and cold against your most sensitive part is too much for you to handle, and you feel like you may pass out. Right when you think you can’t take it any longer, he drags the ice with his tongue back and up along your crack again, the opposite direction this time. Your legs are shaking and your arms are sore. Your entire body is screaming, begging for some relief. The silky smooth fabric against your eyes starts to dampen with your tears as Danny pulls away, soft sobs escaping from your lips.

“Shhhh it’s okay baby,” he whispers, placing his large, warm hands around your hips, moving them up along your back and shoulders. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he assures again as he gently unties the blindfold and turns you back over. Your eyes try to adjust to the light for a moment before he captures your mouth in the most perfect, relieving kiss. His tongue is still cold from the ice, but it feels so good tangling with yours. “I love you, angel,” he whispers, pulling back to move down to your neck and chest, lovingly licking and kissing all over your skin that was actually physically aching for him. You sigh and whimper, more tears escaping your eyes, but this time from relief. Danny makes sure to take his time lovingly devouring your breasts. Sucking, licking, softly biting your nipples just how you like it. You try to take in the scene as long as you can, but it just feels too good. Your head falls back and your eyes close as he moves down, kissing along your belly and hips.

“Oh, thank you baby,” you say with a sigh, so happy to finally be feeling his mouth all over you. You don’t think it’s ever felt this good before.

“Don’t thank me yet, angel,” he chuckles as he moves down to kiss and lick along your inner thighs. “I’m not finished with you.”

You whimper and your eyes flutter at the sound of his voice. So soft and velvety, not too deep, but with a deep timbre. The only sound more beautiful than his voice are the sounds he makes when he’s deep inside of you, your voices harmonizing together in a melody sweeter than any song he plays with Greta Van Fleet. You get to hear this private concert almost nightly (and sometimes daily), and you couldn’t feel luckier.

Danny continues kissing, licking, sucking, biting all over your thighs and hips, torturing you like you did to him earlier, not putting his mouth where you need it the most. Your whines and whimpers release from you louder and more frequent the longer he keeps this up. Your arms are aching so badly from being tied up for so long and you feel like you are on the verge of tears again.

“Baby, please. It hurts. Please just show me a little mercy?” you beg. And as much as Danny loves being in this zone, knowing how hard it makes you cum, he just can’t resist giving you what you want right now. He dives his tongue inside of you, groaning as he tastes how sweet you are, dragging your wetness up and over your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking on it so sweetly. “Oh, fuck! Shit, you do that so well, Danny. God, I need you. I need this forever. I need you forever.” He moans in appreciation, never faltering with his movements. Being the cheesy, sappy man he is, you know this urges him on more than anything else. He slides his two middle fingers inside of you, curling them, hitting that sweet spot just right as you tremble around him and cry out his name. “Yes, just like that, Danny. Just like that. Please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you beg, pathetically. His tongue on you and his fingers inside of you create the most delicious unholy sounds that send you over the edge. Your entire body goes rigid for a moment before your legs twitch and squeeze around his head. His fingers fuck into you hard and fast until you start to come down, softly whimpering and whispering his name. He smiles proudly as he crawls back up on top of you, his face almost dripping with your juices as he leans in to kiss you.

“Taste how sweet you are, baby. I could just eat you all day and all night,” he whispers before kissing you again.

He reaches up to release your wrists from the cuffs and you whimper with relief, immediately wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close to you, savoring the feel of his skin on your hands and against your body. You feel how hard he is again, surprisingly. He usually doesn’t cum more than once a night. Now you’re so eager to get him off, you reach down lining him up with your entrance, but he pulls your arm away, trapping it by your side.

“Don’t let my sweetness confuse you darling. I’m still in control here.” He licks your lips and moves back down between your legs. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he dives back in and starts aggressively eating you out, even giving the softest bite, causing you to grip his hair with both hands and pull him away. He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, relentlessly continuing to devour you. It hurts so badly, but feels so fucking good at the same time. You can feel your orgasm building again, but then remember you only have one left. If you cum now, you can’t fuck him, and that’s what you’re aching for the most.

“Danny, please stop. Please, I want to feel you inside of me. I don’t want to cum yet. Please, baby, please?” Your breathing is uneven as you whine, sweat forming on your brow as your eyes squeeze shut, focusing hard on fighting off your orgasm.

He chuckles evilly and continues his pace, adding in his fingers again, stroking you perfectly. You start to sob and shove your one free hand into his hair, trying to pull him off of you, but he’s strong, and you aren’t able to.

“Fuck, Danny please! Please, I’m begging you! RED!” you scream at him. Your safe word. He instantly stops and crawls over you, kissing away your tears and cradling your head.

“You okay, angel?” he asks, his expression so full of concern as he shifts his eyes back and forth quickly, searching yours.

You sob harder, pulling him close to you. “I just need to feel you. All of you. Can you be sweet now? I just want to make love to my boyfriend, okay?”

“Fuck, yes baby. That sounds perfect. I want that more than anything.” He kisses you more tenderly than you’ve ever felt before and rolls over, pulling you on top of him.

You lean down and kiss softly all over his face. Each freckle on his cheeks, nose, and eyes, his forehead, his jaw and chin, his soft, swollen, plush lips, still coated with your wetness. “I love you so much, Daniel,” you whisper, resting your forehead on his, wiggling your nose on his as you both smile.

“Oh, angel you have no idea,” he whispers back, cradling your face with his hand and kissing your forehead, tears welling in his eyes. Sam is definitely right. You two are the cheesiest couple of all time.

You sit up and raise yourself higher on your knees so he can line himself up with you, allowing you to sink down slowly onto him. You steady yourself with your hands on his toned stomach, your head tipping back and jaw dropping with your brow furrowed and eyes shut. It’s the most beautiful sight Danny could ever imagine. His brow is raised in the middle, hands on your hips and jaw dropped, as well, moaning once you sink down onto him fully. You move on top of him slowly, wanting to make this last. Wanting to feel him inside of you as long as possible. He reaches down to rub circles on your clit, but you pull his hand away and move it up to your breast.

“Please, not yet baby. I’m already close and I need you inside of me longer than that.”

“Of course, angel,” he says, sitting up as you wrap your legs around him. He holds you against him, chest to chest as your arms roam all over his back and shoulders, thrusting up into you slowly. Your breathing is slower, but still labored, matching his as you gaze into each other's eyes. You have to look away to make this last, so you lean down and kiss every little freckle dusted on his shoulders. He sighs, leaning down to kiss yours as well, his hands caressing all over your back and hips. You feel his rhythm start to falter as his breathing intensifies, soft whimpers escaping from his lips. He’s getting close. “Baby, I’m trying here, but I’m so close,” he whispers in your ear.

“It’s okay, Daniel. I am too.” You increase your pace, rolling your hips onto him as he slides his hand down to gently press on your clit, pulsing it softly. Looking down, you see the large vein in the center of his wrist shift with each movement of his hand, the dainty silver jewelry swaying around it. The sight sends you over the edge as you grip the back of his neck, your foreheads and noses pressed together. Through shared breaths you both moan and whimper, whispering each other’s names into each other’s mouths between soft, deep kisses, riding out your orgasms together. Once you reach your peak, you let out one more loud, high-pitched whimper, sweat dripping down your brow and chest as you continue to look into his eyes, your eyelids fluttering and brow arched up in the middle. His face matches yours as you feel his hips twitch, spilling inside of you. Holding each other tightly, and as closely as possible, your chests damp from sweat, you both steady your breathing and come down together.

“You know, as much fun as we had tonight,” Danny breaks the silence, “I think what we just did was the best time we’ve ever had.”

You kiss his nose and forehead, eyes welling up with tears from the painfully intense love you have for him. “I completely agree, Daniel. Thank you.”

“For what, sweetheart?”

“Just for being you.”

@dazeebean @spark-my-nature @geekgirlinthegreen

#danny gvf #danny wagner #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fic #daniel wagner #danny wagner fic #danny wagner gvf #daniel wagner gvf

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