Love how you write for Marvel Rivals! It's been one of my favorite games lately. If it's not too much to ask can you write Emma Frost, Natasha, Magik, Hela, Wanda and Storm using a strap-on on their girlfriend?
Hi, Anon! I'm glad you're enjoying the game and me writing my silly little fics. I'll write this one for you too!
Pairing: Emma Frost, Hela, Illyana Rasputin, Natasha Romanoff, Ororo Munroe, Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: It's a really good time to love women! I love women so much!
Emma spends a ton of time teasing you with it before anything else. She has you tied to the bed, wrists bound and legs spread open, all dolled up in lingerie that is complementary to her own. Of course the strap on is shiny, glistening even more as she runs it through your slippery folds. She hears all your little whimpers and she doesn't need to use her mind reading powers to know how you want to be fucked. And then she does the opposite, her hips moving so slowly but even that feels like too much to your pussy, and yet not enough.
Hela will fuck you in every position possible but her favorite one is the when you're both on your knees and she's thrusting into you from behind. Her hands smooth up and down your thighs, brushing against your wet cunt. She's moving fast, but deep, grinning into the kiss you clumsily pull her into in a desperate attempt to silence your moans. All your effort to do so it futile, with every thrust you get louder. There's no need for you to keep quiet while she's fucking you, she wants to hear you clearly, her favorite woman in the whole world.
Illyana developed a breeding kink during the many times she's used her strap-on with you. She didn't mean to say she's gonna get you pregnant while almost breaking the bed, it just slipped out. From then on she only uses the strap-on with artificial cum in it and bends you in half while doing so. No matter the position she's always within kissing distance, she loves kissing you, her tongue demanding against yours. if she goes too hard on you she will kiss your pussy as an apology and she is being very sincere with her apology.
Natasha often wears her strap-on under her clothes and leaves it to you to get it wet and ready. You can suck it, you can use lube, you can ride it until you come all over it. But after that it's her turn to have some fun and for you to be a good girl and not a brat like she knows you can be. If you do behave like a brat she has no problem putting you in your place, which is under her, screaming her name, telling her how much you love her cock. She's also very forgiving towards you, if you ask her nicely she can go easy on you.
Ororo teases you a lot but ultimately gives you everything you want. She spoils you when she uses the strap-on, she encourages you as you ride it, massages your thighs, your ass and your hips and grins when you tell her you're close. When you feel tired but needy she is more than happy to stay still and cuddle, only moving back and forth occasionally, eliciting soft whimpers from you. Plants soft kisses across your neck while you ride her up and down, back and forth. One of her favorite things is to have you clean it afterwards.
Wanda uses a magical strap-on that makes it feel like the real thing, meaning she can feel your pussy gripping, tensing and relaxing around it. It drives her crazy when you're close to coming but she forbids you from doing so more than a few times. That when when you finally do come she knows you'll take her with you, right over that edge. Loves to watch the strap-on go in and out of you while her thumb massages your clit. The wet, silky pressure around her cock every time she touches your clit almost makes her magic go wild.
Marvel Rivals Characters: do they grunt, moan, whimper, or pant?
MDNI
Grunts: Black Widow, Blade, Dare Devil, Hawkeye, Iron Fist, *Moon Knight, Punisher, Thing, Venom, Wolverine, Hulk
"oh yeah baby, just like that," they murmur in your ear, praise spoken just for you to hear. "you feel so good right now, keep doing exactly what you're doing." a low grunt pulls from their chest and their eyes squeeze shut in concentration. "fuck, you're gonna make me cum baby. You're making it really hard to hold out for you".
Moans: Angela, Captain America, Doctor Strange, Elsa Bloodstone, Emma Frost, Hela, Invisible Woman, Loki, Magik, Mantis, *Moon Knight, Phoenix, Rouge, Scarlet Witch, Star Lord, Thor
"yeahh just like that baby, just like that." another heavenly moan tumbles from their lips, you swore you could finish just from that sound alone. "come on, i wanna cum with you, you look so good when you do"
Whimpers: Dagger, Deadpool, Human Torch, Luna Snow, *Moon Knight, Namor, Spider-Man, Squirrel Girl
"oh my god, oh my god" they whimper out loudly, anyone around could surely hear them by now. "you feel so good, so good. i can't- baby i'm gonna cum"
Pants: Adam Warlock, Black Cat, Black Panther, Cloak, Cyclops, Gambit, Iron Man, Magneto, Mister Fantastic, *Moon Knight, Psylocke, Storm, **Ultron, White Fox, Winter Soldier
"fuck- hey, you doing good? yeah? good," they tuck their face into the crook of your neck, grazing their teeth over your skin. they pant as if they can't get enough breath, their body fighting against the need for air and the intensity of their pleasure. "shit i'm so close, are close too?"
*His different alters do different things
**the "panting" is the sound of his fans running on high. no I do not care it's ooc
Hi! If it’s not too much, could you do spider-man villains responding to an underling hitting reader like you did for the bat-villains? (Idk if you do the spider-man villains or just marvel villains in general so feel free to do that if you’d prefer) You’re really good at getting into characters’ heads it’s really fun to read!
MARVEL COMICS VILLAINS X FEM!READER
One of the underlings hit you and your partner finds out
Characters: Dr. Doom, Bullseye, Taskmaster, Loki, Crossbones, Zemo, Muse, Hela, Green Goblin, Eddie/Venom, Doctor Octopus, Kraven, The Lizard, Carnage, Electro, Kingpin, Scorpion, Hobgoblin, Mysterio, Sandman, Shocker, Chameleon, Mister Negative & Boomerang
Reply to anon: FINALLY some love for Spider-Man villains. The Spider-Man and Batman villain gallery are my favorites. I've done (almost) all of Spider-Boy's most popular villains, I really hope I did the ones you wanted.
Victor von Doom | Doctor Doom
- Doom is not a man prone to outbursts. He does not rage blindly, does not allow emotions to dictate his actions. No, his fury is measured, calculated—and when he sees the mark left on your perfect skin, he does not waste words. He simply turns, his cloak billowing as he leaves. You know better than to stop him. Whatever is about to happen is inevitable. Doom does not tolerate offenses. And this—this was the gravest of all.
- The punishment is not merely death. Death is merciful, death is quick. Doom does not grant mercy to those who defile what is his. The offender is stripped of their name, their purpose, their very existence. Doom ensures they are erased, their presence scoured from the annals of time, their life reduced to a whisper of agony. He does not need to sully his own hands—no, the world itself bends to his will, and his will is retribution.
- When he returns to you, his mask betrays nothing, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity that lingers. He reaches for you—not to inspect the wound, not to seek forgiveness, but to claim you once more, to remind you that you belong to him, and he to you. "None shall harm you and live," he states, as if it is a fundamental truth of the universe. And perhaps, under his rule, it is.
- His gauntleted fingers ghost over your skin, a contradiction of metal and reverence, of cold steel and burning devotion. "You are under my protection," he murmurs, "and my protection is absolute.” His lips brush against your temple, the touch fleeting, possessive. "They will remember what happens to those who forget."
Lester | Bullseye
- He doesn't get angry. Not at first. He just stares at you, head tilting slightly, the way a predator assesses a kill. And then—he laughs. Not the usual, cocky, self-satisfied kind. No, this one is sharper, colder, something that sends a chill down your spine. "They really put their hands on you?" he asks, his voice edged with something deadly, something thrilled. Because now? Now he gets to play.
- He finds them fast. He doesn’t rush—no, he takes his time. He enjoys watching the moment of realization dawn, the way fear blooms when they understand exactly who they’ve pissed off. And when he strikes, it isn’t just a kill. It’s an art form. He breaks bones with pinpoint accuracy, flays skin with nothing but the flick of a blade. Every hit is personal, every wound a lesson. By the time he’s finished, there’s nothing left but ruin.
- When he comes back, he’s still grinning, like he’s high off the violence. He leans in close, voice dripping with amusement. "Y’know, I was gonna kill ‘em quick, but then I thought—nah, let’s make it memorable." His fingers trace the bruise on your skin, eyes dark with something almost hungry. "Bet they won’t be hittin’ anyone ever again. Hell, they won’t even be breathing."
- Then, just as suddenly, the danger flickers, shifts into something else. His hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you in, his lips brushing against yours, slow and deliberate. "Next time, babe? Just say the word. I'll tear the whole damn world apart for you."
Tony Masters | Taskmaster
- Tony doesn't ask what happened—he sees it. The way you shift your weight, the slight tension in your jaw, the way your hand lingers over the injury just a second too long. He catches every detail, every weakness, because that’s what he does. And right now? Right now, someone’s weakness is about to become their death sentence.
- He doesn't just kill the bastard. No, that would be easy. He studies them first. Watches their movements, their stance, every tell in their body. And then? Then he dismantles them. Uses their own techniques against them, mirrors their every move just to show them how outmatched they are. By the time he’s done, they don’t just lose. They know they never stood a chance.
- When he returns, there’s no grand declaration, no need for theatrics. He just sits beside you, arms crossed, gaze sharp and assessing. "You alright?" he asks, and it’s almost casual—almost. But there’s a weight to it, an unspoken promise beneath the words. You nod, and he exhales, rolling his shoulders. "Good." A beat. Then, "Don’t let it happen again."
- But later, when the lights are low and his guard is down, his hand drifts to your hip, his thumb brushing slow, idle circles against your skin. "Ain't nobody touches you but me," he mutters, voice rough, possessive. "And I don't do soft." His lips ghost over yours, teasing, taunting. "But for you? Maybe I’ll make an exception."
Loki Laufeyson
- He does not react at first. He simply observes. Fingers steepled, expression unreadable, eyes too calm. And that? That is far more terrifying than rage. Because Loki is not a creature of impulse. He is a creature of calculated destruction. And this? This offense against you? It will be answered with something far worse than death.
- The punishment is poetic. He does not simply kill the offender—he undoes them. Twists their mind until they are unmade, until they do not know their own name, their own face. They become a whisper, a tragedy, a thing lost to the very fabric of reality itself. And Loki? Loki watches, amused, as they break. "Oh, dear," he muses. "It seems you have forgotten yourself. Allow me to help." And with a flick of his fingers, they are gone.
- When he returns to you, there is a smirk curling at his lips, something self-satisfied in his gaze. "It is done," he says simply, as if he has merely handled a small inconvenience. And perhaps, to him, that’s all it was. But then, his expression shifts—just slightly. His fingers ghost over your wrist, featherlight, careful, as if you are something fragile, something to be preserved. "They will not bother you again," he murmurs, "nor will anyone else."
- His arms encircle you, drawing you against him, and for a moment, there is no trickery, no illusion—just him, real and solid. His lips graze your ear, a whisper of silk and steel. "You are mine," he breathes, and there is something almost reverent in the way he says it. "And I do not share."
Brock Rumlow | Crossbones
- The moment he sees the bruise on your skin, something inside him snaps. There’s no slow burn, no measured response—just instant, blistering rage. Brock doesn’t ask who did it. He already knows. He doesn’t ask why. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that someone was stupid enough to lay a hand on you, and now? Now they have to pay.
- He doesn’t just kill them—he annihilates them. There’s no finesse, no mercy, just raw, unfiltered violence. The crack of bone, the wet sound of flesh giving way—he takes his time, makes it hurt. He wants them to understand what they’ve done. Wants them to feel every ounce of pain they dared to bring upon you. By the time he’s done, they’re nothing more than a broken, unrecognizable mess on the floor.
- When he comes back to you, his knuckles are split, his breathing heavy, his hands still trembling with the aftershock of violence. But when his eyes meet yours, the fury melts into something else. Something dark, something possessive. He reaches for you, fingers rough as they trace over your injury, his touch lingering, slow. "Ain't nobody touches what’s mine," he mutters, voice like gravel, low and sharp with promise. "Nobody."
- And then his grip tightens, just enough to remind you, just enough to claim. His lips brush against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Next time?" His voice drops to a whisper, deadly and sweet. "I won’t just kill ‘em. I’ll make sure they beg for it first."
Helmut Zemo
- Zemo is silent when he sees the mark on you. Too silent. The kind of quiet that is far more dangerous than any outburst, far more lethal than raised voices or shattered glass. His fingers ghost over the injury with a gentleness that feels almost deceptive, his expression unreadable, his mind already working, already planning.
- His revenge is not messy. It is not violent. It is precise. He does not grant them the dignity of an immediate death—no, he dismantles them. Strips them of their status, their power, their very identity. He orchestrates their downfall with the patience of a man who thrives on the long game, ensuring they lose everything before he grants them the release of death. By the time he is finished, they are nothing more than a ghost.
- When he returns to you, his movements are slow, deliberate. He cups your face, tilting it up so you can see the satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "It is done," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek with something almost reverent. "They will never so much as whisper your name again."
- Then, his lips graze your temple, lingering there, soft but unshakable. "No one lays a hand on you and lives," he breathes against your skin. "Not while I still draw breath."
Muse
- He doesn’t react at first. No flicker of emotion, no shift in expression—just a slow, almost languid turn of his head as he processes the fact that someone dared to harm you. And then, after a moment of silence, he smiles. It’s not warm, not reassuring—it’s something else. Something wrong. Something that should send chills down your spine.
- The underling doesn’t just die. No, Muse creates with them. He turns them into something grotesque, something artful. He strips them of their humanity in the most literal sense, carving into their flesh with the same care a sculptor takes to marble. When he’s finished, they are unrecognizable, their body a message, a masterpiece. Something for the world to witness.
- When he returns, his hands are still wet with blood, his smile still stretching a little too wide. He steps closer, tilting his head as he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time. "You make me feel things I do not understand," he murmurs, his voice lilting, almost dreamlike. "And yet, I do not mind."
- His fingers trail over your bruised skin, slow, thoughtful. "You are mine," he hums, as if tasting the words. "And I do not take kindly to those who ruin my muse."
Hela
- Her rage is not loud. It does not explode. It devours. A slow, insidious thing that coils around her like smoke, seething just beneath the surface. She does not speak when she sees the mark on your skin. She does not need to. The air itself seems to grow heavy, the very shadows bending toward her as if they fear what is to come.
- She does not simply kill the one responsible—she eradicates them. Their soul is hers now, ripped from their body, condemned to an eternity of suffering in her grasp. She ensures their torment is endless, their agony woven into the very fabric of Hel itself. They will know true despair. They will beg for release, and she will deny them.
- When she returns to you, she does not ask if you are alright. She knows you are. You are strong. But still, her touch is almost gentle as she brushes a gloved hand over your bruised skin, as if assessing the damage, as if reminding herself that you are here. "They are nothing now," she murmurs, voice like velvet over steel. "They will never touch you again."
- Then, she cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. Her lips curve into a smirk, dark, knowing. "You are mine," she breathes, her voice a silken promise. "And what is mine is untouchable."
Norman Osborn | The Green Goblin
- He is not a man known for softness. The world has felt the wrath of his intellect, his madness, his power—but never his kindness. Yet, in his own way, you are an exception. An obsession that burrowed into his mind and refused to leave. You were his, a claim as absolute as the empire he built with blood and fire. And when one of his men struck you, something terrible and ruinous cracked open within him. Norman does not react with immediate fury. No, his rage is patient, a slow-moving thing with sharpened teeth, and it festers in silence as he watches you, as his gloved hand ghosts over the mark left behind. His voice is eerily calm. "Who?" is all he asks, and though you know what will come, you do not stop him.
- He does not waste time. The moment the name is given, the air shifts, heavy with the weight of his impending vengeance. He could kill the man outright—could rip him apart with his hands and laugh as he did it—but Norman is nothing if not poetic. There is no need for theatrics, no need for a Goblin’s grin. He strips away his mask and handles the matter as Osborn, the man, the king, the ruthless god in a businessman’s skin. His underlings learn a lesson that night: a punishment that stretches long, a display of control so profound that even those loyal to him shudder at the sight. Norman does not simply kill; he dismantles.
- He returns to you in the aftermath, his fingers still stained with evidence of his wrath. There is no apology, no soft words meant to soothe. He does not think you need them. He takes your face in his hands, holds you as if committing the shape of you to memory, and leans in, his forehead resting against yours. "You are not to be touched," he murmurs, his voice laced with something dark, something final. "Not by them. Not by anyone. Only me." His mouth finds yours, claiming and bruising, a reminder of who you belong to, of who would set the world ablaze before letting another lay a hand on you.
- In the days that follow, his men become more careful, their eyes lowering whenever you pass. He revels in it, in their fear, in the knowledge that you are untouchable. But more than that, Norman basks in the way you still stand at his side, still allow his hands on your skin, still whisper his name in the quiet of night. He does not say it aloud, but he knows it in the marrow of his bones: he would burn everything for you.
Eddie Brock | Venom
- The moment Venom senses it, the moment the bruising scent of pain clings to you, Eddie is already moving. His body tenses like a predator scenting blood, fists curling, jaw tightening, and before you can say anything, a voice darker than night slithers out, a guttural growl vibrating in his chest. "Who hurt you?" The question is not for you to answer. Venom already knows.
- There is no reasoning with Eddie when his rage is ignited, no space for rational thought. He is a man of fury, of primal justice, and there is no justice more absolute than the one he will deliver. Venom is delighted, saliva dripping from his fanged mouth as he urges Eddie forward. "We eat them." But Eddie is not in the mood for quick endings. No, this calls for something more intimate. He corners the man, fists colliding with flesh, with bone, and with each hit, his breath comes harsher, his mind consumed by the vision of you hurt, of someone daring to lay a hand on what is his.
- When he returns to you, his knuckles are bloody, his breathing uneven, but his eyes—his eyes are the most dangerous part of him. "It won’t happen again," he says, and Venom’s voice purrs in agreement, curling around the words like a promise. You reach for him, fingers tracing over the remnants of his anger, and for a moment, his fury falters. His grip tightens around you, desperate, possessive, as if anchoring himself in your warmth. "I don’t share," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin, the rough scrape of his stubble sending a shiver down your spine. "I don’t forgive, either."
- The city speaks in whispers after that. The man who struck you is nowhere to be found, his existence erased with the efficiency of something monstrous. Eddie doesn’t care. Venom doesn’t care. They are satisfied only in the way you still let them near, in the way your fingers tangle in Eddie’s hair as he presses against you, breathing in your scent like a man who has only ever known hunger.
Otto Octavius | Doctor Octopus
- He is a man of brilliance, of intellect, of control. But all of it fractures when he sees the mark on your skin. His metal limbs twitch, their claws clicking in restless anticipation, and his grip on his own restraint becomes tenuous. He prides himself on logic, on the ability to calculate his moves, but rage has always been an old friend, and tonight, it whispers to him with venomous sweetness. He cups your chin, his touch unexpectedly gentle despite the storm brewing in his gaze. "Tell me," he says, his voice like silk stretched over steel.
- When you do, he does not explode. Otto Octavius is not a man of reckless outbursts—he is a man of consequences. The one who hurt you does not suffer immediately. No, Otto drags it out, makes it a lesson, makes it art. His tentacles wrap around the man like a vice, lifting him effortlessly, squeezing just enough to let terror sink in. "Do you know what you’ve done?" he muses, tilting his head in that calculating way of his. "Do you understand the depths of your mistake?" There is no mercy in his eyes, only the cold brilliance of a scientist dissecting his latest subject.
- When he returns, his hands are clean, his composure intact. But there is something different in the way he looks at you, something almost reverent. "No one will touch you again," he says, a quiet promise that rings louder than any scream. His arms coil around you, steel and flesh alike, pressing you into him as if ensuring your safety through sheer proximity. He is not an affectionate man, not in the traditional sense, but this—this is devotion in its truest form.
- The world shifts after that. His subordinates tread carefully, their fear evident, their respect unwavering. Otto does not care for their opinions, only for the knowledge that you are untouchable, that the universe itself would have to shatter before he allowed harm to reach you again. And when he holds you at night, when he feels the warmth of your body against his own, he knows with absolute certainty—he would burn every last one of them for you.
Sergei Kravinoff | Kraven the Hunter
- The air is thick with tension when he finds out. There is no great display of fury, no immediate act of violence—but the shift in him is undeniable. His gaze darkens, his jaw sets, and his muscles coil like a beast moments before the kill. He does not ask you to name the culprit. He does not need to. The hunt is already beginning in his mind, the scent of blood calling to him. "They have wronged you," he murmurs, his accent curling around the words like a snare. "That is all I need to know."
- He does not go after them as a man. He goes as a predator. There is no chance for escape, no hope for mercy. The one who hurt you does not simply die; they are hunted, chased, reduced to nothing more than prey beneath the weight of Sergei’s wrath. And when he returns, there is blood beneath his nails, a satisfied smirk on his lips, and something primal burning in his eyes as they settle on you.
- He takes your face in his hands, his fingers rough yet reverent. "You are mine," he tells you, his voice low, possessive, unshaken. "And no man touches what is mine." There is no hesitation when he kisses you, no gentleness—only the raw, unfiltered hunger of a man who has conquered and claimed.
- After that, there is silence. No one dares cross you, no one even dares look too long. And Sergei—Sergei watches you like the wild thing he is, his need for you carved into his very soul.
Dr. Curt Connors | The Lizard
- There are two versions of the man you love, and both are dangerous in their own ways. Dr. Connors—the brilliant, fractured scientist—sees you as something fragile, something to be protected. The Lizard—the monstrous, primal force—sees you as his, an undeniable part of his territory, a possession no one else is permitted to touch. When he smells the injury, when his reptilian senses detect the slightest irregularity in your scent, his pupils slit into thin lines, and his talons twitch. He does not ask what happened. He does not need to. You can see the change in him, the slow, deliberate way his muscles coil, the predator awakening beneath the man.
- Curt tries to hold back at first, tries to reason with himself, to suppress the darker part of him that howls for blood. But then he sees the mark—small, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but a wound on you—and all his restraint shatters. His skin ripples, the transformation taking hold, scales pushing through flesh, bones shifting as something cold-blooded and relentless takes over. The man who hurt you does not get the mercy of a warning. He does not get the chance to run. The Lizard hunts him down with terrifying precision, dragging him into the depths of the sewers, where screams do not reach the surface world.
- He does not return to you as Curt, not yet. The Lizard comes first, his body tense with the aftermath of his fury, his eyes glowing in the dim light. He circles you like an animal, sniffing the air, ensuring no scent of your attacker lingers. When his clawed hands cup your face, they are gentle despite their lethal potential, his rough thumb tracing over the bruise with something close to reverence. "Mine," he hisses, low and guttural, his tail twitching behind him. "No one hurts what belongs to me." His forked tongue flicks out, tasting the air around you, confirming you are safe. Only then does he allow himself to shift back, bones snapping, scales melting away, until it is Curt again—shaken, horrified by his own lack of control, but unrepentant.
- After that night, no one in his employ ever touches you again. They don’t even stand too close. The fear lingers, thick and suffocating, but you do not fear him. Not truly. Not when he presses his forehead against yours in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, his breath still uneven from the monster within him. "I won’t let it happen again," he murmurs, half a promise, half a warning to the world. And you believe him.
Cletus Kasady | Carnage
- Violence has always been Cletus’s language, and love—if he can even call what he feels for you that—is simply an extension of it. His affection is red, dripping, chaotic, something sharp-edged and all-consuming. So when he finds out someone has dared to touch you, to lay their filthy hands on what he claimed, he does not fly into a rage. No, no, no. Rage is too simple. Rage is what lesser men feel. What he feels is a different kind of thrill—something euphoric, something electric. The knowledge that he now has an excuse to indulge himself, to play.
- He finds the man easily. Carnage is not subtle, never has been, and there is no need for stealth when the hunt is half the fun. He takes his time with it, drags it out, makes sure the bastard understands the mistake he made. There are screams, of course. Begging. Pleading. But Cletus only laughs, red tendrils writhing around him like something alive, his grin wide and wicked. He does not just kill. He desecrates. When it is over, he leaves what remains in a place everyone will see, a message written in blood and viscera: SHE’S MINE.
- When he returns to you, he is still drenched in his work, red creeping up his neck like war paint. His fingers are slick when they cup your chin, tilting your head so he can drink in the sight of you, the only thing in this world he won’t destroy. "Ain’t nobody stupid enough to touch you now, doll," he purrs, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "But if they do… well, you know me. I love an excuse to get messy." His lips crash against yours, feverish, unhinged, tasting of copper and chaos, as if marking you from the inside out.
- The city whispers after that. Everyone knows. Everyone fears. No one dares even breathe in your direction without permission. And Cletus—Cletus is delighted. He keeps you close, always touching, always claiming, because you are the only thing in this world worth keeping, worth loving in his own sick, twisted way.
Max Dillon | Electro
- The moment Max finds out, the air around him changes. The temperature rises, the hum of electricity vibrating beneath his skin, flickering in his veins. He does not speak at first. He just stands there, his entire body coiled with tension, eyes burning with a glow that promises something catastrophic. His hands twitch, sparks crackling between his fingers, and when he finally breathes, it comes out ragged, barely contained. "Who?" The question is not a request. It is a demand, static lacing his voice like a storm on the verge of breaking.
- He doesn’t wait for you to answer. He already knows. The circuits in the building whisper their secrets to him, security cameras playing back every movement, every offense. And once he sees it—once he witnesses the insult—there is no saving the man responsible. Max does not go after him in silence. He wants people to see. He wants them to understand. When he finds his target, he doesn’t touch him at first—just lets the lights flicker, lets the air taste of ozone and danger. The fear in the man’s eyes is intoxicating. And then—then—he strikes.
- He does not just kill. He erupts. A violent surge of electricity courses through his victim’s body, lighting up the night in a gruesome spectacle. It is over in seconds, but the aftermath lingers—charred flesh, the stench of burnt skin, a warning that echoes in the city’s power lines. No one touches what belongs to Max Dillon. No one.
- When he returns, his pulse is still thrumming with energy, his hands still tingling with remnants of power. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t need to. He simply cups your face, his touch still buzzing, his breath warm against your lips. "Nobody hurts you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours, letting the electricity between you crackle softly. "Not while I’m around."
Wilson Fisk | The Kingpin
- There is no explosion of rage when Wilson finds out. No immediate outburst, no reckless display of violence. Instead, there is silence. A heavy, suffocating quiet that settles over the room as he absorbs the information, as he lets the weight of it sink into his bones. He does not ask questions. He does not need to. His mind has already moved past the why and straight into the how.
- The man who struck you is dead before the sun rises. Wilson does not delegate this task. He handles it himself, in the cold, calculated way that only he can. The punishment is not just a beating. It is an education. He ensures that every broken bone, every gasping breath, is a lesson. That by the time it is over, the man understands—truly understands—who you belong to.
- When he returns to you, his suit is pristine, his composure unshaken, but there is something in his eyes—something dark, something possessive. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. "You are mine," he states, as if it is law, as if it is the only truth that matters. "And I will never allow harm to come to what is mine."
- The city learns quickly. No one touches you. No one dares. Because to harm you is to invoke the wrath of a king, and there is no place in this world where his reach does not extend.
Mac Gargan | The Scorpion
- Mac has always been a creature of violence. It sits in his bones, coils in his muscles, waiting for an excuse to strike. But this—this—is different. This is not a bar fight, not some petty vendetta. This is you. His girl. His one good thing in a world that never gave him anything but rage. And someone thought they could lay a hand on you? His fingers curl into fists so tight his knuckles crack, his breath coming out in short, harsh bursts. The suit hums around him, reacting to his anger, tail twitching like a serpent poised to strike.
- He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t ask. He hunts. The city is a labyrinth of shadows, but Mac is a predator who knows every back alley, every bolt hole. And when he finds the bastard, there’s no warning. No time for apologies, for begging, for mercy that never existed in the first place. He slams the man against a wall hard enough to rattle bones, his tail curling around his throat, lifting him off the ground with slow, deliberate cruelty. "You think you're tough?" His voice is low, venomous, dripping with the promise of pain. "Think you can put your hands on her and walk away?"
- The fight is short, brutal. Mac doesn’t just beat him—he breaks him. Leaves him gasping in the filth of the streets, bruised, bloodied, and barely breathing. He could end it. Should end it. But no, he wants this bastard to live. Wants him to wake up every day knowing he made the worst mistake of his life. That if he so much as breathes in your direction again, Mac will be the last thing he ever sees.
- When he returns to you, his hands are still shaking, but his grip is gentle when he cups your face, tilting your chin up so he can look at you. His expression is dark, possessive, fierce. "Ain’t nobody touching you again," he mutters, his thumb tracing over your skin, as if reassuring himself that you’re real, that you’re his. "Ever."
Roderick Kingsley | The Hobgoblin
- The first time he sees the mark on your skin, something inside him snaps. Roderick has always been meticulous, always prided himself on being in control, but this—this—is unacceptable. His fingers twitch at his sides, itching for violence, but his face remains eerily composed, the kind of stillness that only comes before a storm. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "Who?" he asks, voice soft, deadly. It’s not a question. It’s a promise.
- Roderick does not make a spectacle of his revenge. He is not like the others—messy, impulsive, obvious. No, he is calculated. He plays the long game, luring the fool into a false sense of security. Then, when the time is right, he strikes. The underling who dared touch you disappears, and for days, no one hears from him. Then, suddenly, his body turns up—dismembered, displayed with sickening artistry, a message written in his own blood. A warning.
- When he returns to you, there is not a single speck of blood on him. He is as immaculate as always, his movements smooth and practiced as he approaches you. His gloved fingers brush over your shoulder, over the place where the injury once was, his touch lingering. "No one will ever lay a hand on you again," he murmurs, voice silken but laced with something darker, something dangerous. "Not unless they have a death wish."
- He tilts your chin up with two fingers, studying you with that sharp, analytical gaze, and then he smiles—slow, lazy, possessive. "You belong to me, darling," he whispers against your lips, a ghost of a threat, a vow wrapped in silk. "And I always take care of what’s mine."
Quentin Beck | Mysterio
- Quentin is a master of illusions, a man who bends reality to his will. But this—this is no illusion. The sight of your injury is real. And that, more than anything, enrages him. He stands utterly still, his fingers twitching at his sides, his mind already spinning through a thousand different ways to fix this. "Someone put their hands on you?" His voice is eerily calm, too calm, like the surface of still water before something drags you under.
- He doesn’t just want revenge—he wants a show. Wants to make an example of the fool who thought they could harm his masterpiece. The man who hurt you wakes up in a nightmare. Shadows twist unnaturally around him, voices whisper from the darkness, and the air itself becomes suffocating. He cannot see. He cannot escape. Quentin lets him feel true fear, lets his mind break apart at the seams. And when he finally steps into the illusion, bathed in eerie green light, his voice is cold, theatrical. "You touched something that belongs to me. Now, let’s see how you like being toyed with."
- By the time the illusion fades, the man is reduced to a shaking, incoherent wreck, his mind so shattered that he will never be the same. Quentin does not need to dirty his hands with blood. He has already won. Fear is the best weapon, after all. And now? Now, no one will ever dare lay a hand on you again.
- When he returns, his touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he cups your face, tracing the curve of your jaw. "I’ve taken care of it," he murmurs, his voice carrying that ever-present theatrical flair, as if this was simply another act in a grand performance. "No one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m around." And when he presses his lips to yours, it is possessive, a silent claim. You are mine. And I will burn the world before I let it take you from me.
Flint Marko | The Sandman
- Flint has never claimed to be a good man, but there are rules. Lines that even criminals don’t cross. And someone crossing you? That is unforgivable. When he sees the mark on you, the wound left by some lowlife under his command, something dark passes over his expression. His jaw tightens, his fists clench, and for a long moment, he just stares. Then, in a voice too quiet, too steady, he asks, "Who did it?"
- He doesn’t wait for the answer. He already knows. He finds him. And when he does, he doesn’t waste words. He doesn’t make threats. He just acts. His body twists and warps, arms elongating, fists turning into massive clubs of hardened sand. The first hit is brutal, sending the man crashing through a wall. The second is worse. By the time he’s done, the bastard is barely breathing, half-buried in the debris, coughing up blood and dust. Flint leans down, voice low, gravelly, dangerous. "You ever even look at her again, I’ll make sure there ain’t enough of you left to bury."
- When he returns to you, his hands are still rough, still calloused, but they are infinitely careful when they touch you. His fingers ghost over the mark, his brows furrowed in something like guilt, like regret that he wasn’t there when it happened. "I shoulda stopped it before it happened," he mutters, frustration lacing his tone. "Ain’t nobody layin’ a hand on you again. I promise you that."
- He presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin, his presence solid, steady, safe. And when he speaks again, his voice is softer, rough with something that sounds almost like devotion. "You’re the only thing in this world I ain’t gonna lose." And somehow, you know he means it.
Herman Schultz | The Shocker
- Violence has always been a means to an end for Herman, never something he enjoyed. He’s not one of those lunatics who relish brutality—he’s just a man trying to make a living. But when he sees the bruise marring your skin, the way you flinch ever so slightly when you move, something inside him curdles. His stomach twists, his fingers flex, and there’s a slow, creeping heat behind his eyes. Somebody hurt you. And that? That’s something he can’t let slide.
- He doesn’t go in guns blazing. He’s smarter than that. He finds out who did it first, who was stupid enough to lay hands on his girl. And when he does? He makes sure the message is clear. The vibrations from his gauntlets don’t just break bones—they shatter them. There’s no warning, no grand speech, just a quick, brutal demonstration of what happens when you cross him. The air trembles with every hit, and by the time he’s finished, there’s nothing left but wreckage and regret.
- When he comes back to you, he’s quieter than usual. There’s no bravado, no cocky grin—just a lingering tension in his shoulders, a ghost of something dark in his eyes. He hesitates before reaching for you, before brushing his knuckles ever so gently over the bruise. "Didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this," he mutters, voice low, rough with something close to guilt. "But I swear—it ain’t happenin’ again."
- And then, finally, his hands settle on your waist, pulling you against him, grounding himself in you. He presses his forehead to yours, exhales slow, deliberate. "You’re my girl," he murmurs, his voice softer now, steadier. "And I protect what’s mine."
Dmitri Smerdyakov | The Chameleon
- Dmitri is a man of masks, of deception, of control. And yet, when he sees the mark on your skin, all of that precision shatters. His breath slows, his body stills, and for the first time in a long time, something genuine flickers behind his ever-changing eyes. Fury. Not the theatrical kind, not the controlled, manufactured type—this is something raw, something visceral. Someone thought they could touch you and get away with it.
- He does not act in haste. No, he is patient, methodical. He waits. He studies his prey, slipping into their world, wearing faces they trust, whispering secrets that lead them straight to their downfall. By the time they realize what’s happening, it’s far, far too late. One night, they close their eyes—and when they wake, they are not where they were before. A cold, dimly lit room. A voice, smooth as silk, drips from the darkness. "Did you think I would not find you?"
- By the time he returns to you, there is not a single trace of blood on him. No evidence, no mess—only the ghost of a smirk, the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He steps close, fingers trailing over your wrist, up your arm, as if ensuring you are whole, untouched. "No one will ever hurt you again," he whispers, and it is not just a promise. It is fact.
- His lips brush against the shell of your ear, his voice a soft murmur, intimate, possessive. "You are mine, моя любовь. And I do not share what is mine."
Martin Li | Mister Negative
- There are two sides to Martin—light and shadow, kindness and wrath. But when he sees the evidence of someone else's violence on you, there is no kindness left. His breath catches, his fingers tighten into fists, and something in his expression shifts—something dangerous. He touches the injury gently, as if the very act of acknowledging it might taint you further. And then, quietly, almost too softly, he asks, "Who did this to you?"
- When he finds them, there is no shouting, no theatrics—only inevitability. The underling barely has time to register their mistake before Martin unleashes the darkness within. The corruption devours them, twisting their very essence, making them feel every ounce of pain they have inflicted—tenfold. They scream, but there is no one to save them. And Martin watches, calm, composed, as their own sins consume them from the inside out.
- When he returns to you, his hands are cool when they cup your face, his expression eerily serene. There is no need to speak of what he has done—you already know. Instead, his thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch reverent, careful. "I will not allow harm to come to you again," he says simply, as if it is law, as if the very world itself bends to his decree.
- And then, softly, with all the tenderness in the world, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering, his breath warm against your skin. "You are precious to me," he whispers, and beneath the gentleness, there is an edge of something darker, something absolute. "And I do not lose what is mine."
Fred Myers | Boomerang
- Fred has never been the serious type. Always laughing, always running his mouth, always playing things off like nothing really matters. But when he sees what happened to you? When he sees the proof that someone put their hands on you? The easygoing grin vanishes. His whole body goes still. And then, with a quiet, almost chilling sort of calm, he says, "Tell me who did it."
- He tracks the bastard down himself, no hired muscle, no goons—just him. And when he finds them, all the jokes, all the charm, all the bullshit he usually hides behind is gone. He’s fast, brutal, efficient—sharp knuckles, steel-toed boots, the snap of a ribcage giving way under pressure. He doesn’t need his boomerangs for this. No, this? This is personal.
- When he comes back, there’s blood on his hands—his own, maybe, but mostly theirs. And for the first time in a long time, he actually looks serious. No jokes, no smug quips—just that sharp, assessing gaze as he steps closer, fingers brushing over your wrist. "They won’t bother you again," he says, and his voice is rougher than usual, lower. "Nobody’s gonna touch you. Not while I’m around."
- And then, as if realizing how intense he sounds, he exhales, shakes his head, lets that familiar smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. "Damn," he murmurs, tilting your chin up, eyes dark with something dangerous. "Didn’t know I had it in me to get all protective." His grin widens, teasing, but his grip on you is firm, steady. "Guess you bring out the worst in me, sweetheart. Or maybe the best.”
You Ask Them To Leave The Room To Change ∣ marvel preferences
x fem ! reader
Characters Included ➼ Ajak, Bucky Barnes, Druig, Gamora, Hela, Jane Foster, Kate Bishop, Loki Laufeyson, Maria Hill, Matt Murdock, Natasha Romanoff, Okoye, Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield), Pietro Maximoff, Sif, T'Challa, Valkeyrie, Wanda Maximoff, Yelena Belova
Warnings ➼ Sexual innuendos, and obviously mentions of being naked.
Word Count ➼ 6,683 words
A/N ➼ Hope you enjoy reading ! I Was inspired by @orobaxis story 'Can you leave the room? I need to change.' I don’t think you realise how much I struggled with Matt’s part, it took me like a couple days to think of how it would go with him. Also so sorry this is a bit late then when I promised it would come out. This is also my longest work yet.
See the rest of my works at ➼ Masterlists┃Marvel Masterlist
Ajak !
“Darling, can you leave the room so I can change?” You ask as you walk over to the wardrobe. Ajak’s eyes follow you every move, as sits on the bed confused.
“Y/N, i have literally seen you naked so many times, darling. Why do I need to leave now?” She asks, her thick southern accent nearly making your knees buckle at the sound. Her eyes watch you look for clothes to wear, and it gives you butterflies.
“I just want some alone time. So are you able to leave the room while I change?” You repeated, wanting to go through with your prank. Ajak loves you so much and she respects and listens to you all the time. So she nodded her head, as she started walking over to the bedroom door. Her head bows down in disappointment as she makes a mental note to ask you why you wanted some alone time, and if anything is upsetting you.
“Ajak!” You call out as she walks past the doorway.
Just before she closes the door she calls out “yeah?”
“Come back here.” you demanded. Her head instantly rose up, and a smile started spreading on her face. She was practically jumping for joy as she walked back to you. Feeling like she is on cloud nine.
“Yes, Y/N?” she smiles, happy to be in your presence again. You reach out for her hand, and force her to stand closer to you. Your hands grab a hold on her hips, and you press your lips against hers.
When you pull apart, you rest your head against her. Both of you share the same intensely passionate gaze. “I was just pranking you, you can stay here.” you whispered against her lips.
“Thank god. I thought something was wrong.” she laughs. Her hand finds the small of your back, and forces you to come even closer to her and kiss her again.
“Nothing is wrong, baby.” You commented just before you pressed your lips against hers.
She pulls back, a cheeky smirk forming on her face. “Yes there is something wrong. You still wearing that towel.” Safe to say, you both forgot all about this prank.
Bucky Barnes !
“Hey Buck, are you able to leave the room real quick? I just need to get changed.” You ask. He looks up from his historical novel to look at you. His face shows that he is utterly stunned. One side of his mouth pulled to the side in a questioning manner. His eyebrows raised and scrunched up, trying to understand why you would want him to leave.
His mind immediately went to the negative side. He wonders what he has done to make you mad at him. Is she starting to resent me for my past? Does she not love me anymore? Am I doomed in life? Will I ever be loved?
You notice how Bucky stays still and avoids eye contact with you. Your heart falls down, feeling so guilty. You can tell he is not thinking helpful or good thoughts.
As you step closer, his head snaps towards you. Your footsteps bring him back to the present moment. “Why do you want me to leave? Have I done anything wrong? Because please let me know. Or if you are feeling insecure about the way you look, just know that I have seen you thousands of times, in all different ways. Naked, wrapped up in multiple layers, sweaty, shivering, naked, in swimmers, in lingerie, and in your pyjamas. I have seen your body also from many angles. There is nothing I haven’t seen before. If it isn’t about any insecurities you may have about your physical appearance, is it about any insecurities in this relationship? I-” you cut him off, by grabbing his hand and rubbing your thumb against his knuckles. He looks up at you, his eyes starting to get glossy.
“I am so sorry, my love. I just saw this prank online where they asked their partners to leave the room so they can get changed. I am so sorry that I made you panic. Trust me I never ever want to leave you. Ever since you came into my life and we have started dating, I have felt whole. Also, you have made me fall in love with my body even more, around you I could never feel insecure.” You stated, placing a kiss on his lips between each sentence.
Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, his whole body changing in any instinct. His fingers rub away any tears, his hands have stopped shaking, he is taking deep breaths at a normal rhythm, and his face looks less twisted and stressed.
“I- I don’t know what to say.” He mumbles. “But I think you should make up for this.” He whispers before he pulls you in for a cuddle and a kiss on your forehead.
Druig !
“Hey Druig. Can you leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask.
Druig watches you walk past him, not even looking at his direction. Something is up. He sits up on the bed, and stares at you. You walk and act normally, it confuses him. Normally he would use his mind control, to maybe get an idea on what you are doing, but he promised to never do it on you. “No.” He grumbles, wanting to see how you play this out. His brain is completely confused by you.
You whipped your head at him. This isn't how you wanted the prank to play out. “What do you mean ‘no’?” You ask him, standing still as you raise your eyebrow at him. Egging him on, to continue speaking.
“No. Why would I start doing that now, when we haven't done that basically ever. Unless you have something planned for me, I don't see the reason why. I am your husband now, and it was made clear that I will happily enjoy seeing you in all different ways.” He explains, crossing his arms in annoyance. Not happy with your behavior at the moment.
You rolled your eyes, darn him and his quick thinking. You bite back your smile as you walk towards him. He raises his eyebrow at you, wondering what you are going to do next. You straddle his legs and wrap your arms around his neck. You place kisses from his right shoulder all the way up to his temple. Getting in nice and close to his ear you whisper “I was trying to prank you.”
You hear and feel his throat tightens and his breathing hitches, as his face rests against your neck. “You know, you shouldn’t prank a literal god. It won't do you any good.” he whispers, his hands snaking around your back and undoing your towel.
His hands go under your thighs as he picks you up, and he places you on the bed. Laying on your back, he takes his time to explore every part of your body.
Gamora !
“Gamora, can you leave the room while I get changed?” You ask her.
She looks up at you, completely confused. Her fingers stop playing with her knife, as places it on the bedside table. Getting off the bed, she walks over to you.
You stand in front of the wardrobe, looking for some clothes to wear. You ignore her footsteps, assuming she is leaving the room. Yet she stalks up from behind you, tilting her head in bewilderment. She hesitantly wraps her hands around your body. Afraid that you have actually been replaced, and someone is here to attack her. But your body smells the same intoxicating way, the same way that drives her insane in the best way. But you never acted like this before, you were never shy in front of her. You were the exact opposite, you loved showing off (your skills, body, etc) so you can receive praise from her. Her hands gently press against your stomach, unsure of who you are. An enemy or yourself. She doesn't know if she should hold you down more firmly, just in case you attack her.
“Y/N?” She asks, her voice wavering.
“Yes, love?” You respond. Your same sweet tone of voice, confused Gamora even more. There are so many signs that point towards your figure actually being you. But the way you acted and asked that question still rings alarm bells in her head. Her past life is glooming in the back of her mind.
“Y/N Y/L/N? Why are you acting like this? Is something wrong?” Gamora’s voice started sounding more scared, and that sound shattered your heart. You love her, and you know she loves you because you don't hate her for her past. And now from the sound of her voice, you can assume that her past betrayals are haunting her mind. You turn your body around, and press your lips gently against hers.
“I am so sorry Gamora. I wanted to prank you. I am all okay, I didn't mean to hurt you.” You whispered against her lips after you pulled away from the kiss.
Hela !
“Hela, can you leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask, walking past her laying on the bed. She watches your every move as you walk towards the wardrobe. Her eyebrows are raised, yet a smirk is plastered on her face. What are you up to?
“No, I will not leave the room.” She insisted, her voice firm but silky smooth. It sends shivers down your spine, and you are ready to pull the plug on this prank already. Wanting to listen to your Queen, as you try and force your body to stay upright and not melt at the sound of her voice.
But you continue fighting the urge to listen to her. “Can you please leave the room?” You ask again, your voice wobbly, as you lack confidence in you successfully fighting the urge to not fall to your knees. But Hela has you wrapped around her finger, and you both know that.
“I will not leave the room. And as your Queen I demand you to tell me why you request me to do so.” She walks over to you, and her hands lay on your hips and force you to face her. Her towering figure makes your knees want to crumble. Why did I try to prank a goddess?
“I-I-I…” you start explaining, yet her strong fiery gaze makes you forget how to speak. Makes you forget what words are.
“Go on.” She presses, a smirk now defined on her face. Loving the way you are practically crumbling at her feet.
“I-I was trying to prank you.” You whisper, ashamed of your attempt.
“Well as your Queen, you need to make it up to me. I think it is fair enough to force you to sleep naked tonight.” She whispers against your neck. Her hands force your towel to drop on the floor, and she carries you over to the bed. You melt into her arms, your body already giving out.
Jane Foster !
“Jane, can you leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask. She looks up from the sheets of paper and photographs that lay on the bed. She is currently editing her next scientific report. Finding it better to edit the report when it is printed, and all her photographic evidence laying beside her.
“Is everything alright?” She asks, confused by your question. She has literally seen and dealt with some of the world's strangest physics situations and they have left her confused for sure. But not as confused as she is feeling right now. Her scientific brain already try to come up for possible reasons why you ask her that.
Is she wanting to break up with me? Is she getting annoyed that I am focusing on my report more than her the last couple weeks. Because I swear Y/N said she is fine with it, and doesn’t mind that she works on the report. Because it makes me happy, and she loves seeing me happy.
Is she feeling insecure? Did I or someone else do or say something to make her insecure? Is it the toxic influencers on the internet making you feel insecure? Because they don’t know shit. I remember one time when Y/N said that you saw a workout influencer say she fixed her extreme case of scoliosis by working out at the gym ‘only’. If you are insecure about how your body looks, hopefully you have realised by now I love your body so much, more than I love space. Also, if you didn’t ask that question I wouldn’t have paid any attention to you getting dressed and I would still be focusing on my work. So I would even look up at you, which could possibly make your possible insecurities worse.
When you heard only silence coming from her direction, you turned your body over to her. You see Jane’s face going blank as time went on, obviously deep in thought. You knew she was already stressed out with work, now you are causing her to stress out. It hurts you, it shatters your heart. You walk up to her, and rub your hands up and down her shoulders, snapping her back to the present moment. She looks up at you, and you place a kiss on her forehead, relieving any press up in her brain. She sighs at the contact.
“I am so sorry to make your brain go into overdrive. I know you are already stressed with this report. I was just trying to prank you. I was so excited, I completely forgot all about this report.” You mumbled against her forehead. Her hands reach up to the back of your head, massaging it in a way that tells you she is okay.
Kate Bishop !
”Hey Kate, can you leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask, as you walk towards the wardrobe.
Kate looks up at you, puzzled. Lucky also follows Kate’s eyesight, and stares at you as well. Kate closes her laptop, her focus all on you. Instead of trying to wrap her head around her university work, she is trying to wrap her head around the question you ask her. The only time she can remember you asking that was when Clint came over to her house. She completely understood why in that situation. But no one is here except her, Lucky, and you.
“Is everything okay?” Kate asks, sitting up on the bed. Getting more serious about this conversation.
“Yeah, everything is okay. Trust.” And she does. Kate trusts you with her life. She makes a mental note to talk to you about this later, cause something is feeling off. She calls Lucky to follow her out the bedroom door.
“Lucky can stay here.” You call out to her just before they leave the room. Okay, what? Kate whips her head to look at you, and you look back at them. To see both of their heads peering out from the corner like Scooby-Doo and Shaggy.
“So the dog can stay here but not me?” She questions, a confused chuckle leaving her lips.
“Lucky is half blind.” You commented, before searching your wardrobe for clothes to wear.
“Something is up, tell me what it is.” She says, as she stalks up from behind you. Her hands wrap around your stomach, forcing you to lean against her. Kate attacks your shoulders and neck with kisses, and you tap out on the prank.
“It’s a prank? It’s a prank!” You screamed out, as she licks and kisses the sensitive part of your neck.
“You pranked me? I am so wounded.” She comments. With her hands she forces you to face her way. “I think the only way you can make it up to me, is letting me see you naked. We can kick Lucky out the room, if you want me to.” She winked, before repeatedly kissing your lips.
Loki Laufeyson !
“Can you please leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask, looking towards your boyfriend. He is currently lying in bed playing with his magic tricks.
Instead of answering you, Loki remains quiet as he ignores your question. So you ask him again if he can leave the room. He once again ignores you.
“Why are you ignoring me?” You ask, wanting to already give up on this prank. He finally looks up at you, but he still plays with his magic trick.
Loki lets out a slight egotistical chuckle, before smirking towards you. “I don’t need to leave the room, I have seen you naked multiple times before.”
You watch him get up from your shared bed, and he walks over to you. His eyes narrow down on you intensely, making you feel like he is a predator and your prey. He lets out another sly chuckle, before cupping your face. He leans in near your ear and whispers “If you have forgotten the times when I have seen you naked, perhaps I should perform a magic trick and show you them.”
Your face immediately reddens, unsure of what to do. You knew you should’ve expected some time of boldness, but you weren’t expecting that. He smiles at your frozen state, before leaning back down to your ear and whispering “You would like that wouldn’t you?”
Maria Hill !
“Hey, lovie, can you please leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask, walking into the bedroom, your body wrapped up with a towel.
Maria looked up from her laptop, and stopped typing, as her mind processes what you just asked her. Although her job teaches her how to do the opposite, she can’t help but let her mind spiral into negative thoughts.
“Did I do something wrong?” She asks, slowly, scared of your possible answer. Her mouth started turning down, and you immediately hated yourself. Walking over to her, you cupped her face and kissed her lips.
“No you did absolutely nothing, trust me. I just saw this prank while you were gone on a mission. And I wanted to do it to you when you got back.” You say, kissing away her worries.
“You tried to prank me? The Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. That is a very brave action, I respect you for that.” She whispers. Her hands reach for your hips, and grab you to sit on her.
“So you only respect me? You don’t want me to pay for what I have done?” You ask. Your lips turn from a smirk to a pout, as you gaze into her eyes. And her eyes flick up and down from your eyes, lips, and to the top of your breasts that is peaking out from your towel.
She pulls her face away from yours, taking a second to think of a response. “Hm, I think it is only fair that we have a shower together, and see if you still want to try and attempt that prank on me.” She responds, a small smirk present on her face.
“I already had a shower just then.” You commented.
“Well, this is payback for your stunt. Anyways, S.H.I.E.L.D pays for this apartment and any of its bills, so we don’t need to worry about the water bill.” She comments, before picking you up and carrying you back to the bathroom. Maria carries you over her shoulder. So when Maria looks at the bathroom mirror when she enters the room, a visible groan leaves her lips when your position doesn’t quite cover your backside. Let’s just say, during the shower Maria got very distracted.
Matt Murdock !
“Love, can you please leave the room so I can get changed?” You asked, walking out of the bathroom. He hears your heart beat intensely pounding in your chest.
Just like the good partner he is, he listens to your commands, and starts walking towards the bedroom door. When it struck him, I am blind.
“Why do I need to leave, I can’t see you getting changed either way?” He asks, laughing at his stupidity for forgetting all about that.
“Sorry.” You whispered between a tight lipped and bashful smile. He hears it, and turns to where you are standing. “I was trying to prank you, I didn’t think about the blind thing.”
“Neither did I.” He laughs in your ear as he slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “But because you wanted to be so mean and deprive me of a good time, I say you should do the opposite now.” He smirks against your neck. His breath heating up your neck, killing you in the most amazing way.
“Yeah, and what do you suggest?” You ask, sprinting around in his hold. Your hands wrap around his neck.
Placing kisses all around his face, he responds. “I think I deserve some time to trance every inch of your body. For at least an hour or two. That is my legal opinion.” He smirks, pressing a long passionate kiss against your lips.
Natasha Romanoff !
“Hey baby, do you mind leaving the room so I can get changed into my pjs?” You ask, walking into your bedroom with a towel wrapped around your body. She is currently laying on your shared bed. Natasha looks up from her phone, her face completely confused. One of her eyebrows shooting upwards, her mouth agape, and her facial muscles tight.
“What did you just ask?” Natasha questions. You try your best not to squeeze your legs together, not wanting her to see what affects her (and her thick Russian accent) is doing to you.
“Can you please leave the room so I can change?” You repeated. Your gaze towards her reads like it is very clear what you are asking her to do.
“Why would I? It is nothing I have seen before. I have seen your naked body more times than I can count. So I shouldn’t have to leave the room. Unless you are wanting to surprise me?.” She says, her voice a little higher at the last sentence. Unsure of what possible surprise you could have in stall for her, to make you want her to leave the room.
You walk towards Natasha, and she meets you halfway. She grabs your hips and forces you closer to her, till basically your stomachs are touching each other’s. “So why should I leave the room, darling?” Natasha asks, her voice smooth but smoky.
The intensity and heat within the room rose dramatically after that question left her beautiful mouth. You can’t hold it in anymore, she is getting under your skin in the best way possible. “Okay, this is a prank. I saw it online this morning, and I wanted to try it on you tonight.” You confessed.
A smirk forms on Natasha’s face as she goes into deep thought. ”Well, I can think of a great way to get payback on you.” Natasha started, her hands rubbing up and down your sides. One of her hands finds a gap in between your towel, and she grazes her finger on your bikini line. This sends shivers down your spine. “Since you didn’t want me to see you naked, how about tonight you sleep naked? I would say that is pretty fair, don’t you?” She asks.
She smiles at your head nodding in agreement. Her hands find themselves up to the top of your towel. She unravels the fabric around your body, before grabbing your hand and leading you into bed. Before you two doze off, she places kisses all over your shoulder, back, and neck as her hands roam up and down your body, spending the most amount of time near your private parts.
Okoye !
“Hey Okoye, can you leave the room for a sec, so I can get changed?” You asked. She had just come from a political meeting, where she had to stand by as guards for the King and listen to utter bullshit coming from the other politician’s mouth. Now she has to come back home, and hear that bullshit. Unbelievable.
“Why should I do that, Y/N/N?” She asks back, a slight smirk forming on her face.
“Because I am your wife. And when we got married you said you would always respect my wishes.” You answered, turning you back against her as you looked for clothes to get changed into.
“But here's the thing, every single night we shower and get dressed together. And because I came home later than normally because of the meeting, I wasn’t able to have a shower with you, and she was naked. I think it is only fair, if you get changed in front of me.” She retaliates. You bit the inside of your cheek, can’t say no to that.
You walk to where she is standing behind you. Okoye pulls you closer to her by your waist. You press a quick kiss on her lips. “I wanted to prank you tonight with that. I hate that meeting so much. I was looking forward to pranking you.” You pouted.
“You and I both agree with hating the meeting.” She responds. While she has you wrapped around her in a hug, she uses her skilful assassin moves for good (like always) and undo the towel that wraps around your body.
When the towel drops onto the floor, her hands begin romancing around, gripping and squeezing the places she loves the most. “Perfection.” She whispers into your ear.
Peter Parker !
As you exited the bathroom, trying your best to hide your grin. While at university, you overheard this prank that someone did on their significant other, and you decided to do it on Peter tonight. He had just snuck into the apartment via the windows.
You enter the main room and walk over to the wardrobe. Peter blushes intensely, not expecting to come home to you walking around naked with just a towel wrapped around you.
“Hey, Pete. Do you mind leaving the room for a sec, while I get changed?” You ask, trying you best to bite back a smile.
Peter stood there dumbfounded. “We live in a studio apartment. Do you want me to leave the apartment?” He asks. A small chuckle leaves his mouth, a very concerned one. He is still in his Spider-Man suit. You two just moved to this apartment, and he is pretty sure his neighbours don’t want to see Spider-Man being their neighbour, or Peter just in his boxers waiting outside your apartment.
“Yeah, and?” You ask. He responds by repeating all the thoughts that went through his mind. Shit, I didn’t think this through.
A shameful smile escaped into your face, as you internally mock yourself for being stupid. “So, I may have tried to prank you.” You mumbled, and Peter heard it clear as day.
A heartfelt laugh escaped his lips, as he walked over to you. “I can tell.” He laughed.
Pietro Maximoff !
“Hey Piet, can you please leave the room so I can change?” You ask as you walk out of the bathroom towards the wardrobe.
“Why?!” He asks, his voice high, unsure of why you asked that. You know he has seen every part of your body and that he worships and loves your body. So why hide it from him now, all of the sudden.
“What do you mean why?” You ask back, facing him. The pure shock that has laced his facial features nearly made you laugh and therefore not complete the prank. You bite down on your lip, trying to act links you are confused on why he asks that.
“Why would I leave the room? I have never done that for years now. You only did that during our first couple months.” He asks, while he walks slowly up to you.
“You would leave the room as a sign of respect to your girlfriend, as you should listen and do what she asks.” You laughed, unsure where he was going.
You turn you back against Pietro again and search through the wardrobe for some clothes to wear. Meanwhile, Pietro speed runs towards you, and positions himself between you and the wardrobe. His hands on his hips.
“Yes?” You ask, moving to the side to continue looking for clothes. He grabs you by the hips, forcing you to stand in front of him.
“Why are you doing this? Listen if you are surprising me with some lingerie, I am more than happy and interested to watch you put it on. Even help you.” He winks.
“I am not doing that.” You chuckle, before your eyes move to search the wardrobe again. One hand cups your jaw, and forces you to look at him again.
“Then why are you doing this?” He asks, in a serious tone.
“Because I am pranking you.” You stated. He stands still, his mouth agape. He’s completely shocked. You laugh at his reaction.
“You pranked the prank master? Well done draga. But now you are going to make up for it.” He says, before picking you up and carrying you bridal style to the bed.
Lady Sif !
“Sif, are you able to leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask as you enter your shared quarters.
Sif looks up at you, confused, wondering why you would ask that. She has seen your naked form so many times, she has lost track. But being the very respectful warrior she is, she walks out of the room. Planting a small kiss on your forehead as she passes and a ‘of course, my love’ leaving her lips.
Just before she was about to open the bedroom door you called out her name. Her head snaps over to you and your direction.
“I was just pranking you. You don’t have to leave the room. I want you here. Nearby me, with me.” You stated. Blush rose up onto Sif’s face, before she walked back over to you.
“That was very cheeky, my darling. I hope you know that as a warrior I don’t allow you to do this without me paying you back.” She winked and chuckled slowly. Shivers run through your spine. You nearly melt at the sight of her smile.
T'Challa !
”Hey love, are you able to leave the room so I can get changed?” You ask as you walk past him on the bed. He sits up, watching you walk past him, practically ignoring him. Like you expect him to immediately have left the room.
“May I ask for the reason why you want me to do this? I have seen you naked many times, my dear.” He speaks up, walking over to you. As you find what clothes to wear, he sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You two both swayed side to side at the same time.
“I just wanna have some alone time tonight when I get changed. So is it alright if you can leave?” You ask, leaning your head into his embrace.
“Yes, whatever you ask.” He replies. You smile to yourself, god you feel so lucky, dating a man who listens to what you want.
Before he walks over to the bedroom door you call out his name.
“Yes, Y/N.” He says, his voice smooth like honey, and as sweet as tea.
“I am kidding. You can stay. Your sister told me about this prank she saw on the internet when we went out for lunch today. She begged for me to do the prank on her.” You honestly told him. His jaw drops, as he swims in betrayal. You laugh at his stunned body.
Your laughter brings a smile to his face as he walks on over to you. You begin undressing and getting changed, and T’Challa stares at you. Trying his best to be respectful, but he can’t be around you when you are teasing him.
You look up at him while you put on your pants, and say “like what you see?” A low pitched hum of agreement left his lips, as he continued staring at you.
As you walk over to him, you press a kiss on his lips, finally bringing him back to the present moment. He remembers what you said only a few moments ago. About you and Shuri. “You better not tell Shuri what happened. She would kill me with annoyance.” He laughs, pulling you towards the bed.
Valkeyrie !
“Hey, Val.” You say entering your bedroom. You walk on over to where she is laying on your bed playing games. Sitting down next to her on the we of the bed, you brush the hair off her face, and she smiles up at you. “Are you able to leave the room for a couple seconds while I change?” You ask, placing a kiss on her temple.
She gently pushes you off her, confused. You look down at her, eyebrows raised. She raises her eyebrows back at you, looking at you like you had just grown two heads. Valkeyrie chucked her demo controller and headphones to the other side of the bed, closing the game she was currently playing.
“What did you just ask me?” She asked, her hands firmly holding onto your hips. She lifts you up like you weigh nothing, and forces you to straddle her lap.
You try your best to hide your smile as she stares up at you with sad puppy dog eyes. She has just been told the worst thing - she can’t see you naked. You wounded her, twisted the knife multiple times.
“Can you please leave the room so I can get changed?” You whispered, kissing her temple multiple times.
“Nope.” Valkyrie grins, her hands tightening around your hips.
“So you don’t respect me?” You ask.
“I do, but I deserve to see all sides of you. And you were born without clothes, it is destiny that you should be naked in front of me.” She laughs. You roll your eyes at her silly argument, before cupping her face. Leaning down for a kiss, you whispered against her lips, “well if that is the case, I guess you need to undress me.”
Valkyrie smirks into the kiss. While you two makeup out, her hands keep rummaging around your body, already trying to take off your clothes. When you break away to breathe, she takes her chance to take off all your clothes. Leaving you bare.
For the next couple of hours, Valkyrie makes you pay back for the absolute pain you caused her. By forcing you to sit on her lap while she plays. Completely ignoring your wines and your desperate attempts to find release. Let’s just say, after that hour, you soaked her pants.
Wanda Maximoff !
“Hey babe. How’s your day?” You ask as you walk straight past her on the bed, and straight to your shared walk in wardrobe. You close the door more than three quarters of the way, before going over to your side of the wardrobe. Picking out some pyjamas to wear.
“Today was good, just did some training with Natasha, and had some lunch with Piet.” She answered. When she heard lots of movement coming from the wardrobe, she raised her eyebrows, unsure of what was happening in there.
“Yeah, well that sounds good. Where did you and Piet go for lunch?” You ask, just as you were walking out of your wardrobe.
Wanda just stared at you, silently, as thousands of thoughts rushed through her head. If you were wanting to change and she was in the bedroom or bathroom, you would normally get dressed in front of you while you two talked. It was one of the things that made Wanda feel human and normal, and not some kind of monster the media says she is. So what has happened to make you not do that?
“Hey, why didn’t you get changed in front of me while you changed? You always do that if I am in another room in this bedroom while we are talking. You always want to be in the same room as me for these conversations? Did I do anything wrong to upset you?” She asks, moving herself towards the edge of the bed. She sat down, staring straight up at you, confused and hurt.
She looks like an injured puppy, her eyes big and watery. It shattered your heart, you didn’t want this outcome when you saw the prank. Your hands cup her cheeks, forcing her to look directly in your eyes. “Wanda, I am so sorry, but this was a joke, love. One of my friends from work said they did this to their boyfriend, and I wanted to try it on you. You did nothing wrong, nothing at all that could possibly upset me. You are utterly amazing with the way you treat me.”
Wanda lets out a huge sigh of relief then a laugh. You watch as she falls onto the bed dramatically, clutching her stomach. “You alright, Wanda, baby?” You ask.
“You know karma will always come after you. But I know a way for you to make it up to me, so karma doesn’t bite you.”
“Yeah, what is it?” You ask, a smirk forming on your face.
“I will let you know, honey. Just don’t ever do that prank again, I nearly had a heart attack.” You laughed alongside Wanda, and joined her on the bed. Laying your head on her shoulder, one of her hands strokes up and down your arm while she litters your face in kisses. Wanda smiles to herself, as her heart flutters. Pranks also make me feel human, noted.
Yelena Belova !
“Hey baby, are you able to step out of the room, so I can get changed really quickly?” You ask as you enter the room. You have just gotten back home from work. As you walked towards the wardrobe, your mind didn't even recognise that yelena in fact hasn't left the bedroom like what you asked her to do. You don't even hear her getting out of bed and walking over to you. You mind to focus on the comfort of wearing your pyjamas after such a long day at work.
As your body inched closer and closer to the wardrobe, your mind and body didn't even react to Yelena’s hand against your shoulder trying to get you to look at her. You mind and body doing its own thing, and not letting anything come in the way with you putting on some comfy clothes.
Yelena groans out in annoyance, before letting go off your shoulder, and running past you. She blocks the door to the walk-in-wardrobe, as she just wants to know why you want her to leave the room. This is not how you normally act.
You bump into Yelena, letting out an ‘ow!’.
“Why am I not allowed to be near you when you change? I have literally seen you naked multiple times, I know every single thing about your body even when I am blindfolded. So why can I see you get naked now, because I have seen it thousands of times. And trust me there is nothing you need to be ashamed about.” Yelena blurted out, both of her hands now resting on your shoulders.
You stepped back and blocked a couple times, trying to remember why you told her that. When it clicked. “I wanted to prank you.”
Yelena lets out a soft laugh, before staring back at you with a smirk present on her face. “You wanted to prank me? Well now you are gonna have to get changed in front of me? I think it is quite fair, don’t you, sugar?”
Blush rises instantly in your cheeks, and your head tilts downward to hide your blush. “Now, now, don’t be acting all shy. You had the guts to prank me, now find that same guts to get undressed in front of me.”
Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.
Summery: giving everyone on the Marvel Rivals roster a kiss (with plot!!)
Valentine's Masterlist
Underage characters and animal characters will be platonic (there will be a reminder for each one
Characters included: Adam, Black Panther, Black Widow, Captain America, Cloak & Dagger, Doctor Strange, Groot, Hawkeye, Hela
It's late afternoon, and you're both alone in the infirmary. Neither of you are injured, but somehow the monotone atmosphere of the room has become a special place for you two to hang out. It's a place that barely anyone actually uses, maybe once in a blue moon when there's no mystical healer to instantly redo any damage (which is a very rare occasion.)
Perched upon a bed with a really still mattress, you look down at him, he who isn't sitting next to you- but instead below you. He's on the floor, on his knees, and his face lays on your leg like it's the most comfortable pillow ever. His hands hold both your legs together while your hands play with his hair gently, softly brushing through and horribly braiding it before brushing it out again.
You're both talking, about anything that comes to mind- usually it's about the impending doom of the multiverse, but today? Today the conversation flowed about space. It all started when you had mentioned you'd never truly seen space until you were thrown into Wakanda- the one that was far into the future, in space. That little comment had sparked Adam to inform you all about it, he described it's beauty and was saddened you'd never seen him home truly: when you told him you could see it from earth he said it wasn't the same as actually being in the stars, traveling through it.
His face was bright, looking up at you with- forgive me- stars in his eyes and a large smile that definitely molded his whole face. The bright aura around him almost glowed, you swore he actually was- but maybe that was just the light meeting his skin.
Gently, your hand moved from his scalp to his cheek to hold it: making him look more towards you as you leaned down. Quickly he stopped talking, his breath hitching at the closeness, his grip on your legs tightened a little too. Ever so gently, you pulled his face up and laid a kiss on his lips- closing your eyes and leaning into it. Adam happily returned it, using his legs to push himself up and meet you with more passion than he had with his talk of space.
When you pull away he follows, now he's fully standing on his knees and his eyes are fluttering open. His face is in a pout because he wanted more, for it to last longer. Your thumb rubs his cheek and he leans his face into it while looking up at you with big eyes.
Giving in, you lean down and give him another quick kiss on his forehead before pulling back. “You're so cute when you talk about your home.”
Honestly you weren't even expecting to see him much today. It was a common occurrence at the moment to not see him often due to how much time he spent in the labs working with his sister. The stress of keeping Wakanda safe while working to fix the multiversal problem and fight against Doom.
You didn't hold it against him, but that didn't stop you from wanting to see him. Everyday passed by and it was sad how you really only saw each other at night for a short dinner and bed. But this work was important to him, everyone knew. And so you let it be and took what you could get, enjoying the dinners and cuddling up in bed. Until that wasn't enough.
One could go only so far without affection that everyone craves, so you deemed it okay to interrupt his work- just a little. The doors to the lab were pushed open and you walked into said lab.
He was sitting in a chair, hunched over and looking over what you assumed was data. Shuri caught a glimpse of you, afraid you had been caught. You raised your hand in a shushing motion while tilting your hair towards T’challa. Thankfully Shuri was smart and got the memo, quickly turning around and continuing her work.
Sneaking up on him was difficult, you knew he had a keen sense of his surroundings, but you tried anyway.
“I know you are there” he says, not even moving from his place. So much for trying.
“Fine, I've been caught, but can you blame me for trying?” You reply, walking up to him quickly and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your head leaning on his as you glance at his work, stuff you didn't know much about- but that didn't stop you from looking.
T’challa chuckled and leaned his head back to yours, pushing against it in a loving way- something you'd both do as a way of playful love. “I cannot, my love” finally, he had turned to look at you, face to face. His smile was something you had missed so much.
“You work so long” you mutter, laying your forehead against his and closing your eyes.
His eyes wandered around your face, you couldn't see it but his eyes were full of regret. “I know my dear, and I am sorry” he responded, his hands coming up to cup your face.
“Don't be, I know it's important.” His heart pangs with guilt, and he almost instantly followed up your own words with “and you are too.”
A quiet hum left you, but that was all that was said. He knew he had to make it up somehow, and that he couldn't make up for all the time he'd made you spend alone. So he did the only thing he could think of at the moment, pulling your face closer to his and giving you a kiss.
It was passionate, and loving, his feelings easily conveyed to you. Obviously you returned, arms tightening around him to get closer. The kiss was quicker than expected, but it didn't feel like it- either way you both knew that the love between you two was something that couldn't be broken by time apart (though he later promises to take more time for you).
You were sitting on the bathroom counter, swinging your legs a little as you wrapped yourself around Natasha. She moved around a lot, seeing as she was doing her makeup, but you didn't care- you just continued to lay on her shoulders and enjoy the smell of her hair wash.
“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?” She asked, leaning her head on yours while her arm wrapped around your shoulders mutually- mostly so he could get her mascara out of its container. The only reply you have was a soft “mmm” and a nudge closer to her.
She laughed at that, patting your back before focusing on the mirror behind you to get her mascara on.
It's a quiet atmosphere, your breathing mixed together and the messing around of makeup were about the only thing that made noise.
Switching hands, she skillfully works around you to get her other eye- pulling back and blinking to get a good look at herself. To make sure she got it right she pulled back, her hands resting on your arms to push you back too. “C'mon Sweetheart, look at tell me if it's alright.” It was easy, staring at your girlfriend's face with her permission. A true honor.
Time felt like it stopped, her gorgeous face looking right at yours with a smile. Her arms came up to rest on your shoulders, hands connecting behind you to almost cage you- but it also caged her because your legs were locked around her in almost the same way.
“Yeah,” you mutter “looks great, Nat.” She smiled more, pulling her hands to rest on your neck and pulling you close. “Always so good to me” Natasha said, pulling your head close. The two of your bodies were so close, and you both seemed to enjoy it. No complaints when your faces were inches apart.
“Always so pretty, Nat” you mutter, leaning in and closing your eyes, your hands resting on her back. Her laugh was angelic, as she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours quickly- pulling back soon after, “you're lucky I haven't put any lipstick on yet” she said before leaning in to kiss you again: this time for longer.
Music floated through the air, a vinyl running of some old song he had enjoyed back in his day, before being frozen. Steve laid on his back on the bed, humming along with the song as he rubbed your back. It was night, and he always had the vinyl running at night, something that helped relax- other than being with you.
Neither of you were asleep, something that occurred often with the both of you. Insomnia, you had told him about it one time, but he didn't pay much mind to what you had said- as rude as that was.
All he thought about was that it was more time awake with you, in a nice quiet atmosphere.
He tilted his head when he heard you take a deep breath, more like a sigh. “What's up?” Steven muttered, his hand rubbing your shoulder and pulling you closer.
“‘m tired” you replied, hugging him closer. “Then why don't you go to sleep, hm?” rolling over on his side, his other arm wrapped around your back and rested his hand on your lower back.
“Not without my kiss.” Steve chuckled at this, his laugh bubbling over to where your head that laid on his chest moved along with it. “Alright, how can I neglect your nightly routine?” he said, leaning his head down and raising his hand to cup your face.
You followed suit, raising your own head and staring at his face, memorizing the soft features of his old face- though it doesn't look old, obviously because of the ice he was stuck in for years.
Unsurprisingly he leans in for a kiss, and so in turn you do too. It starts off with a quick peck, but Steve couldn't get enough, so he keeps going in for more. The more he kissed you the longer he lingered before eventually he wouldn't- no, couldn't leave your lips. They were so addicting, and even though they were slightly chapped he still thought they were the best thing in the world.
When he did pull back, he rested his face on yours, tucking it over and pulling you closer. “Sleep baby, I'll be here” he whispered, rubbing your back calmly to get you to sleep- which works. The soft music playing along with his warmth easily puts you to sleep, satisfied with your goodnight kiss. Steve stays up for awhile longer, thinking about how thankful he was to have someone like you amidst the chaos.
(Platonic)
“You both are utterly ridiculous, charging in like that,” The pair was guilty of your claim, looking down while sitting at the table “you two could've been seriously hurt. Waiting for the team to come back would've been the smart option. The scolding had gone on for a while, and both Tandy and Tyrone were accepting of it.
They weren't used to having someone to take care of them, especially after they had been out on the streets, but they were still kids. That's what puts you on edge, them being children fighting for the universe like that.
Tyrone was currently the one physically there, playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie and avoiding eye contact. Tandy was the one who wanted to rush in, but he knew that whoever's idea it was didn't matter.
“We're sorry, really.” Tyrone muttered, continuing, “We thought we could hold the point until everyone came back.” He looks off to the side, his body shrinking in on itself- obviously as a defense mechanism. The poor boy.
With a sigh, you sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I get that, I've done things like that before too- but you're both just kids…”
Tyrone whispered out a ‘yeah’ and leaned into your build. “I'm frustrated, but I know thinking stuff out in the midst of battle is hard” you comforted, patting Tyrone’s back. “Don't beat yourself up, you're both trying your best.”
Pulling Tyrone closer, you give him a kiss on the forehead. “Doing great, you're both strong for agreeing to help us all fix the entanglement.”
Before you could even process it, a flash of light blinded you for a second. When you blinked back your eyesight you saw Tandy sitting where Tyrone just was, “I want one too” she said- more like demanded. “A kiss, right here.” Tandy then pointed to her forehead, staring at you intently.
“Alright sweetheart, calm your horses.” Leaning down again you place a kiss on Tandy’s forehead too, just like you did with Tyrone.
“I worry for you both, please just wait next time.” Pulling Tandy closer, she snuggles up into your side- almost demanding all of your warmth for her and Tyrone to have, all to themselves.
It didn't take a detective to find out his hands weren't what they used to be, and while they had recovered it was still difficult from time to time.
This was one of those times.
Strange sat on the floor, legs crossed and staring down at his hands. His stare was intense, and he was definitely deep in thought- bad thoughts, you knew it all too well. Hands shaking as they laid in his lap, his fingers twitch involuntarily every few seconds.
You took it upon yourself to help him, as his partner it was a duty you took up because you knew he couldn't stop himself when he was like this. Taking his hands in yours, you pulled him onto your lap- it was comical, his large frame on top of yours when usually it'd be the other way around.
“You're doing it again,” you said, raising his hands and cupping them together before giving his knuckles a kiss. “Looking like you hate it.”
“I do” he replied, leaning his head on yours and making eye contact. “My life would've been different.” There was silence, he'd never brought that longing up before- but you knew. He wanted a normal life, he longed for it at times.
“Yeah”, you pause and look him right in the eye, “but then I'd never have met you. That'd be devastating.” You take a pout, which gets a chuckle out of him.
His hands resting on your shoulders, your hands on top of his. “Yeah” he mimics you.
The quiet between the two of you is calm, tame, and neither of you want to break it. But you do anyways, “I know it's hard for you, but you know more than anyone that dwelling on the past isn't good.”
Steven groaned quietly, turning his hand to look away before your hand shot up and grabbed his jaw- forcing him to look at you. “Hey. Don't go doing that, don't close yourself off from me.” The tone you used was demanding, yet still soft. “Love you too much to not want your baggage” you joke, smiling up at him.
Blush decorated his face, flushing over your assertiveness. Your hand on his face warmed the skin underneath, it almost burned under your hand. “Right.” He mutters, resting his forehead on yours.
With a proud smile you lean in and give him a kiss, your hand moving from his jaw to his cheek- carding through his facial hair and scratching at it slightly. His hands on your shoulders tighten their grip before moving to your upper back where he holds you close.
(Platonic)
Being friends with a living tree was an interesting thing to process, especially after learning he could talk (albeit only 3 words). Groot was a kind, gentle soul- tree, he always seemed to understand.
It was a quiet day, the two of you were talking out in a forest. Well, Groot was walking, you were on his shoulder and enjoying the view. After gaining permission from the Guardians, you took Groot to a broken part of some random universe where everything had become overgrown- assuming he'd enjoy the nature.
Which he did.
In fact, he enjoyed it a lot. So much so that he sat down halfway through your walk and just leaned on a tree. Your back hit the tree too, but it didn't bother either of you, instead you rested your hand on top of Groots head and patted it- even with how uncomfortable it was with all the spikes.
“I am Groot” he looked up at you. “What's that buddy?” You glanced down, leaning forward to see him better.
“I am Groot” he repeats, holding up his hand this time. In-between his fingers was a flower, painted a pretty blue.
“Oh Groot, it's beautiful” reaching down, you grasp the flower and bring it closer to get a better look. You can see little bugs scurry along the petals, little ants and a ladybug. “Is this for me?”
“I am Groot” he replied, smiling up at you. “Thank you Groot, I really appreciate it.” Leaning down you place a quick peck on his head, watching as the area where the kiss was planted sprouted little tiny flowers.
A pizza box was thrown into the dinner table, Clint walking past it after he dropped it into the table. He was freshly done with a game/mission and all he wanted to do was take a shower and eat junk- hence the pizza.
He paused at the bedroom door, which was cracked open, and stood there for a second before leaning forward to look inside. There he spotted you, laying on the bed on your stomach- watching a show on your shared laptop. With a grin, he opened the door and walked in as quietly as the ronin could (which was very).
Standing at the edge of the bed he peered down at the computer- some action show was playing and he could tell you weren't paying too much attention to it. Hell, you were dozing off a little, head tilting down every now and then before snapping up. ‘Adorable’, he thought to himself.
It was pretty dark outside, arguably he thought you should be asleep by now, but he knew how you were- wanting to stay up and see him come home. Raising his leg he got onto the bed, trapping your legs in-between his. Before you could even realize what was going on he flipped down, trapping you underneath him. The bed dipped under his weight not adding onto yours, and his arms wrapped around your neck.
“Hey there sweetheart” he grins, leaning his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. “Clint! You scared me” you muttered, turning and bumping his nose with yours.
A laugh bubbles from his chest, verberating into your back as he does so. “Sorry baby, couldn't help it. So happy you waited for me.” He said, cuddling up and tightening his grip on you. “I got dinner.”
You let out a hum, shutting the laptop and moving it to the side table. Shuffling the bed sheets around you leaned onto your side, bringing Barton with you, and then turning around to meet him face to face. “You stink.”
“Wha- hey! I just got back, give me a break.” He cried out, crowding your space with how close he held you. His cheek nuzzles into your hair and acts all hurt.
“Take a shower before you stink up our bed” you draw out, pretending to push him away while laughing. “C'mon, just a quick one?”
Clint pretended to think, staring at the wall behind you for a minute or two. “Alright,” he let go of you and leaned up on his arm “but give me a kiss first?” bargaining was all a part of his game.
You scoffed at his comment, but leaned up and placed a hand on his chest anyways. “Just don't use all the hot water” you mutter before leaning in and giving him a kiss. He quickly deepened the kiss, grabbing a hold of the back of your head and groaning into it before pulling away quickly- leaving you a little dazed from the unexpectedness and how tired you were.
“Alright, Pizza’s on the table.”
The TV was on and one of the various streaming platforms was open, as Hela has graciously agreed to watch a show with you. She always claimed modern entertainment was under her, but for her lover she could make an exception- you had basically begged her, saying it was something she might like. So here she is, sitting on the plush couch and an arm wrapped around your shoulder.
Television wasn't her thing, being the old fashioned gal she was- and the fact that Asgardian entertainment was very different, but if you thought it would be something she might like she'd give it a try.
You pointed the remote at the screen, scrolling until you found it and clicked play on it. Hela didn't particularly care for the name or intro sequence, using the hand over your shoulder to play with your hair. Her face was close to yours, you could feel her breath on your ear if you focused hard enough.
Eventually though, something had piqued her interest- and while she did continue to play with your hair, she slowly let her attention go to the screen. It was a history show, or something that played on actual history, so interesting how it was different to Asguardian texts.
Your hair laid on her shoulder and you grabbed her hand now resting idly on your shoulder, intertwining your fingers together. “Thank you for watching with me” you mutter, rolling your eyes up to look at her face. “I really appreciate it.”
The response she gave was different from what you were expecting- a simple hum of acknowledgement- instead she leaned down and kissed the side of your head. “You mortals get excited over the smallest thing, I find it… endearing.” She said, leaning her head on yours, “only when it's you though” she corrected herself quietly.
Summary: After Hela’s banishment from Asgard, she’s sent to Earth. Or, more particularly, your backyard.
Warnings/Notes: None! I wish this would happen to me
Word Count: 2562
The crash startled you in the middle of the night. The house rumbled, the bed shaking.
You sat up immediately and looked around the dark room. An earthquake? A new super villain sent from some other planet? Another superhero who almost caused more harm than good?
As you hauled yourself out of your bed, you were drawn to a green glow emanating from beneath your blinds. You almost just went back to bed. Why did you have to deal with this? Maybe it was a dream and if you tried really hard, it would be gone when you opened your eyes.
You were met once again with the darkness of your bedroom, and the same green glow.
With a groan, you grabbed your shoes, a jacket, and then stepped onto your back porch.
In the middle of your yard was a decently sized hole almost as though a meteor had crashed down. The glow was coming from the bottom of the hole. It was nearly too bright for you to see whatever alien life form had decided to make itself at home.
But as you got close enough to the edge, you finally saw it–well, her.
A woman. Curled up at the bottom of the hole. Her eyes were shut. Was she breathing? Her dark raven hair was thrown wildly behind her and she was in some sort of battered armor.
Thunder rumbled in the distance and clouds began to cover the moon. It was going to rain. You couldn’t just leave her out here…
So, with a lot of effort, you dragged her out of the hole and into your house. She was tall, she had to be at least 6 feet. Her eyes were shrouded in dark, smeared makeup, and her skin had some black veins that slowly began to fade. But she was beautiful, like a goddess. High cheek bones made of marble and a sharp nose bridge. Her eyes would be beautiful, you guessed.
She wasn’t very dirty, though she had a few wounds. You eased her up onto your couch and tried to remove her armor to check out what you thought could be a broken wrist, but it appeared as though it was a part of her skin.
Baffled, you left that for later consideration and treated what wounds you could find; a cut on her forehead, a bruise on her neck, and a few broken or missing fingernails.
You tried your best to stay up after that, waiting for when she would (hopefully) inevitably wake. But each wave of exhaustion that lapped at your body made your eyes heavier, and heavier…
Gasping for breath, or well, trying to, you woke up to find yourself at least a foot above the ground. A hand was clasped around your throat, a few nails digging into your skin. The tight grip was almost hard enough to cut off your air but you could still get a few breaths in.
This upset the woman.
Her eyes were beautiful, yet also terrifying; an almost glowing green one would define as evil. Those soft lips of hers fell from their smirk as she tried to tighten her grip. It was as if she assumed you would die just like that.
You took advantage of her surprise, and your instincts, serving a sharp kick to her stomach and sending her flying backwards onto the coffee table. A plant pot shattered on the floor and she let out a groan as her back smacked against the sharp edge of the wood.
Neither of you moved. She couldn’t if she tried.
It was as if one kick from you drained her of all she had. Her skin lost color and her eyes lost their glow. She was on her side, knees curled beneath her and one hand flat on the ground as if trying to lift herself back up. Her other hand was over her stomach.
For a few seconds, her body was wracked with coughs and gags and you realized you knocked the wind out of her. She tried desperately to push herself onto her hands and knees but her body shuddered as if jolted by lightning, and then slumped back on the floor, almost lifeless except her watching eyes.
You felt the skin that had been beneath her hand. She tried her hardest to do damage to you, but you thought you could’ve done more if you tried. Your neck was barely bruised, just a little red.
“Who are you?” You asked coldly. You were tempted to toss her out into the rain. She probably would've done the same to you. But as you watched her writhe on the floor, riding out the last of her… whatever that was, you felt a strange sense of pity for the evil at your mercy.
“Hela.” The woman finally rasped. Her eyes slowly lifted up to meet yours as if just moving them made her dizzy. She tried in vain to move but she couldn’t even pick her head up. “Goddess of…” another cough, “death.”
You should’ve thrown her out while you could. Or maybe you shouldn’t have tried to pry. Because now you had a very wounded, very weak, goddess of death on your floor.
“Are you dying?” The question fell from your lips before you could hold it back.
“I wish,” Hela spat. Her attempts at being intimidating were now sort of… cute. She glared at you. That wouldn’t even scare a child. “Are you just going to stand there?”
You scoffed. “You’ve made a shitty impression. I don’t see why I should help you.” It was then you noticed that she was glaring daggers at you. Literally. Trying to summon daggers out of existence, she was imagining piercing your stomach. But they never appeared. “What the hell are you doing?”
Hela’s glare faded into something else. Confusion. A hint of fear? No, no, that was gone quicker than it came. But she did look… lost. Lost, confused, visibility hurt, and ever so slightly scared.
She finally managed to lift her head but it was in vain as the rest of her body laid limply behind her. With a groan, she relented, head falling back onto the floor. “I don’t understand.” She whispered.
“Understand what?” You were beginning to feel strange pity for the goddess. You hated to admit it, but it was pitiful to see her like this. Slowly, you kneeled down a few feet away.
“I’m a goddess. The goddess of death,” Hela coughed again, eyes a little hazy. “I’m the strongest goddess… in all of Azgard, yet I can’t kill a mortal. I can’t even sit up.” She watched your movements like a wary, feral cat. “You should be dead.”
“I’m alive and well.”
“I know that!” Hela snapped, though regretted it as she soon hacked again. “If… I should’ve strangled you within seconds. I can pierce your body with blades from thin air, I can crack your bones just by looking at you.” Her voice fell soft. “My powers.”
No, no, you were not starting to genuinely feel bad. This woman–goddess–thing openly admitted to wanting to murder you in cold blood. And you were caring about her? You tried to school your expression into cold and neutral. “How did you get here?”
It seemed Hela was finally remembering what happened. She managed to prop her upper half up on her arms. “My father… he stripped me of my powers and banished me.” A sudden look of despair spread across her face.
You moved closer, another mistake. Hela took advantage of your kind heart and tried to lash out at you. But you caught her mid swing and smacked her hand back as if playing with a cat.
But your hit had a lot more impact than expected.
Hela took the hit like she was brutally assaulted with a frying pan. She fell back to the floor and tucked her hand beneath her. “How dare you?” She growled before finally realizing her efforts were fruitless. Resignation flooded her eyes and she reluctantly settled on the floor in surrender. “I will not hurt you anymore.”
“Why should I believe you?” You scoffed. “You just can’t seem to stop fantasizing about killing me.”
“It’s how I was raised,” Hela mumbled, laying her head on her arm. “I will resist it… please, do not hurt me anymore, I won’t hurt you.” She seemed to be telling the truth. Her body was severely weakened, past that of normal mortal status. One more blow from you and she could be dead. At least, that’s what she feared.
“Fine.”
Your agreement brought the weakest smile to her face. Hela nodded slowly and closed her eyes. “Let me rest.”
“Please.”
“Please…”
And so you did. You cleaned up the broken plant and found her passed out afterwards. You almost thought she had died but her side rose and fell slowly. So you did the bare minimum, draping a blanket over her shoulders, and then took a nap.
Hela woke up sometime that evening. You tried your best to ignore the passed out woman on your floor as you went about the day, going as far as having to deny a quick visit from a friend so you didn’t have to explain. You were even slightly excited at this point for her to wake up, though nervous too.
You were relaxing on the couch, watching tv when you finally saw her stir.
Hela let out a low groan, hands reaching for purchase on the cold wood floor. She almost slipped and fell on her face. Finally, she managed to sit up and looked around your house with bleary eyes.
“So… this is Earth?” She sounded unimpressed.
“Yes.” You watched warily. “This is my house.”
“Hmph.” Hela eyed the place, scrutinizing it. It was nothing compared to Asgard's towering castles. But it would do. For now. “Then you are a mortal.”
“Yes.” You replied again. “Are you feeling better?”
“I am… not as weak.” Hela looked down at herself. All four limbs worked. That was good. Then something caught her eye and she lifted her hand closer to her face, examining the bandages over her fingers. “You did this?”
“Mhm.”
Hela frowned. She was confused as to why a mortal would help her in the first place, but then also confused why you thought she would need help at all.
She settled for a chuckle, trying to regain her imposing tone. “I appreciate the thought, mortal, but it is not necessary. I can not–” she pulled one of the bandaids off, revealing the bloody spot on her finger where the nail used to be. Her skin paled into a light green and she wrapped her other hand around the digit.
“Never lost a nail before?”
“...I don’t bleed.” Hela swallowed. Her eyes scanned the house once more as if desperately trying to find something to focus on. The tv only made her more uneasy and she looked over at you. Was she shaking?
You turned the tv off and slowly approached her. “You’ve never been hurt before?”
“...no.” Hela whispered. “I have had blades pierce my body from both sides, but I have never felt the pain, nor bled.”
“Does that make you a mortal, then?”
Hela actually looked like she was going to vomit, which you did not want to have to clean up, or explain, so you changed the topic.
“My name is Y/n, by the way.” You sighed, going into the bathroom and returning with a box of bandaids. “In case you wanted to know.”
“I did not ask,” Hela mumbled bitterly, though it was mostly a redirection of what she refused to acknowledge as fear. She watched you before quietly asking: “What in the Hells are you doing?”
“Let me see your hand.”
“What are you doing?” Hela seemed genuinely frightened now, pressed up against the coffee table.
You held up the box, then lifted a bandaid out. “I want to put this over your finger.”
“Why?”
“Becuase it makes it feel better.”
Hela wrinkled her nose. She looked at her other bandaged fingers and wiggled them in the air. Then she looked over at you again. “Are they magic?”
“Sort of.” You moved a little closer and pulled the backs off the bandaid. “May I?”
Although she still didn’t look too happy, Hela relented and held her hand out. She winced when you touched her missing nail, though seemed to settle once the bandaid was put on. As soon as you finished she pulled her hand away and inspected it to make sure all 5 fingers were still there. Then, she nodded in slow approval.
“It does feel better.” Hela reluctantly admitted, like a child who was given a bandaid for a nonexistent injury just to make them feel better. Then her stomach growled and she frowned. “That does not.”
“Are you hungry?”
“...I believe so.” Hela was rarely hungry. She was a goddess, obviously, so she could go without food for much longer. Though she was also used to being served food at the flick of a wrist. “Yes. I am hungry.”
“I’ll make dinner.”
Hela seemed not too thrilled about the concept of mortal food but she didn’t try to push her luck. Instead, she unsteadily followed you out to the kitchen before slumping into one of the chairs at the table. She laid her head on the surface and watched your every move. “You are strangely nice to me.”
“I wouldn’t call this nice,” you served her a sandwich and some chips you found. The chips were slightly stale, but she wouldn’t know. “It’s more so the least I can do.”
“The least would be doing nothing.” Hela studied the food. “This is something.”
“Mortals aren’t so heartless, you know.”
“I’m learning.” Hela picked the sandwich up. “If this is poisoned, I won’t be upset at you for ending my misery.”
“It’s not poisoned. Eat it.”
She rolled her eyes but did as directed. As she swallowed the first bite, she was quiet. Then a faint smile spread across her face. Not the evil smirk from before, something real, and… happy?
Hela finished the sandwich off before eating the chips. Then she leaned back in her chair and stretched a little. “This is not bad.” She was reluctant about giving compliments, but credit was due where credit was due.
“Wait until you try ice cream.”
“May I have some now?”
“You just ate a whole sandwich and some chips.”
“Just because I am now on a mortal level does not mean I don’t have the appetite of a goddess.” Hela stuck her nose out. “Ice cream. Please.”
As annoying as she was, you couldn’t help but laugh. You dug out a tub of chocolate ice cream from the freezer and handed it to her as is, along with a spoon.
With Hela occupied with her new favorite thing in the world, you made a shopping list. If you were going to be housing a goddess–or mortal, who was once a goddess, you were going to have to be prepared. Because she was right, you didn’t want to do the bare minimum, and you certainly didn’t want to just do nothing. You had already melted a bit of her icy heart. You had a feeling you could get through the rest.
-
Since everyone really seems to love this story, here’s another similar Hela fic
Mommy loves, Daddy cares and Stepmother adoresㅤ𐙚ㅤMommy Switch!Brunhilde Valkyrie x G!P Daddy Dark!Dom!Carol Danvers x Fem Sub!Reader x Stepmother Switch!Hela Odinsdottir
₍ᐢ ︧ ︨ᩙ ᐢ₎ ˊ˗ㅤ You made the mistake of disobeying your adoptive mothers and stepmother when you decided to drink at a costume party. Surely, your punishment wouldn't be losing your phone, but receiving their love while you were writhing in pleasure. 𐙚
♡ ⁞⁞ㅤTw: +18!!! Non blood incest (mothers/daughter) and pseudo-incest (stepdaughter/mother); Carol and Valkyrie are your adoptive mothers, Hela is your Stepmother. Forced sex (non/con) with predatory themes. Dead Dove!! Don't like, don't read.
♡ ⁞⁞ㅤCw: English is not my first languageㅤ𐙚ㅤAU! | Carol and Valkyrie almost got divorced, but implicitly Valkyrie remains with her and Hela | Drinks and drunkenness | mention of a costume party | pet names (princess, baby girl, honey, dear, love, etc) | age gap (Reader is between 18-25, Carol is 60, and Valkyrie and Hela are 1000+ yo) | Daddy and Mommy kink | dagger being used as an implicit threat (but it is not used) | dirty talk | loss of virginity (virginity kink) | manipulation | rough sex | fingering (R receiving forced, Valkyrie receiving, Hela giving) | sucking blood (and kink) | oral (R, Valkyrie, Hela receiving and giving) | face riding (R receiving, Valkyrie riding) | hair pulling | boobs play (sucking/pinching nipples) | slaps (2 on the buttocks, 1 on the breast, 1 on the vagina, i think) | P in V unprotected (dub/con; R receiving) | Carol implicitly uses her powers in R | internal ejaculation | breeding kink (Carol) | implicitly pregnancy | guilt (R) | crying (R) | pain and pleasure (R) | somnophilia | Strap-on in V (R receiving, Valkyrie giving) | Warped love | Reader has a uterus, hair and skin tone to your liking; no mention of blushing or red cheeks.ㅤ𐙚ㅤMEN AND MINORS DNI.
♡ ⁞⁞ㅤWc: 3.312
₍ᐢ ︧ ︨ᩙ ᐢ₎ㅤ𐙚 ⠳ㅤA/n: I see so many smuts from Nat and Agatha that I was hesitant about posting this, but I ended up writing it anyway. My content is obscure, so consider yourself warned. Gifs by me. Enjoy.
The neon lights of the club and the explicit and exciting music being sung by a singer with a husky and provocative voice made a sideways smile pull at your face. Your short and shiny dress made you stand out among the predictable costumes at the party. The mask, with details reminiscent of peacock feathers, perfectly matched the improvised cape that draped over your shoulders. And you didn't even need high or expensive heels to attract attention.
You walked from the entrance of the place, passing thru a crowd of costumed people who made way for you, heading to the bar. Since reaching adulthood, your hobby had been attending parties and drinking. Your college had already been completed and your adoptive mothers were separating. So the best way to distract the mind was there, with a bunch of strangers.
You ordered a large glass of whiskey with vodka, ignoring the internal warnings and your mothers' reminders telling you not to overdo it with the drinks. When the bartender handed you the glass, you almost immediately downed it, letting out a light sigh as you tasted the bitterness. You smiled when you finished, placing the half-empty glass on the counter.
You were weak with drinks, your mind already getting a bit hazy, dizzy from the alcohol. You felt a presence behind you, and when you turned around, you bit your lip upon seeing two women staring at you intently.
“Damn, and I thought I was nailing my costume.” murmured the dark-haired woman, her voice hoarse, a tone reminiscent of someone who was already drunk.
You smiled at the compliment, your eyes falling on the brunette's body, allowing yourself to analyze her fantasy.
The brunette wore a leather outfit that blended strength and sensuality, with light wings on her back and hair reminiscent of a mane. The elongated silver mask reinforced the pegasus esthetic. She smiled when she noticed your interest, casting a playful glance at her partner beside her.
You raised an eyebrow, your eyes falling on the woman accompanying her. The dress, as black as her hair, molded to her body like scales, with green details and strategic slits. The thin mask and intense gaze completed her almost hypnotic presence. Like a snake.
“Do you have a name, dear?” asked the dark-haired woman, her hypnotic smile never leaving her face.
“Does that matter?” you mocked, smiling. You grabbed your half glass, downing the rest in one gulp. Your head was spinning, but you didn't care about the effect when you had two hot girls in front of you.
“It matters when we are interested.” replies the brunette. She looks to the side when another presence approaches.
You turned your head to look. A blonde woman approached, her outfit was elegant and striking, with the dark fabric fitted to her body and golden details that reflected the light. The mask resembled an eagle's beak, and light feathers on her shoulders completed the imposing look. You bit your lip when she measured you seductively.
“I found you two. What are you doing with this stunning woman?” She joked, stopping next to the brunette, her hand descending to hold her hip. “they didn't bother you, did they, babe?”
You smiled, shaking your head negatively.
“On the contrary. I find it very sexy to be surrounded by hot women.” you says without thinking, your voice intoxicated, but your mind saying the same as your wet core.
They stared at you with a fixed gaze, then the blonde shook her head. She walked up to you, her gentle hands touching your shoulder and steadying you, as you felt like you were about to fall.
“You are drunk, dear. You need a bed.” you smiled at her words, although your gaze was serious. “Not in that sense.”
“No, not the bed!” You grumbles. The blonde furrows her brow, while the brunette's expression shifts from amused to analytical.
“Come, honey. Here are some rooms. You need to rest.” The other woman said. The blonde let you go, allowing the other woman to gently take your hands and walk with you among the people, toward the stairs at the end of the hallway.
The brunette and the blonde followed, exchanging glances.
You turned your body face up, your arms stretching as you smiled. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to get used to the intrusive light before a headache hit you. You grumbled, looking around.
That wasn't your bedroom.
“Love.” you froze, your eyes falling on the figures of your adoptive mothers, Carol and Valkyrie, and your stepmother, Hela, at the door, they looked angry or disappointed, you could never decipher their expressions. “Good morning.”
“Mothers. Good morning.” you adjust yourself in bed, sitting up while frowning. Your head still hurt, your mouth remembering the bitter taste of the whiskey with vodka you drank just for fun. “I... where am I?”
”My house,“ your stepmother, a goddess, says. You had barely had a formal interaction since your mothers started the divorce process.
Or at least, you thought they had already started.
Carol, whose arms were behind her back, showed her hands, one holding your mask, the other your infamous peacock-inspired costume. You widened your eyes, while she seemed furious.
“What had we talked about regarding you going out to parties?” she hissed in a dry tone, her dark eyes possibly judging all your sins.
“And on top of that, drinking.” Valkyrie added, with her arms crossed, shaking her head with an expression of disappointment.
You sigh, scratching your hair, then running your hands over your face. Soon, you noticed a cold breeze hitting your arms. You frowned, soon noticing that you was naked. You looked back at your mothers, especially at your costume in Carol's hands.
“Did you undress me?” asks, your arms instinctively covering your breasts. Although it didn't matter much, they had seen them a few times already.
They exchanged glances. Your stepmother smiled sideways when Carol threw your costume into the laundry basket. You were going to get up, but they hadn't finished yet. “Don't you remember the women you called ‘hot’ yesterday?” she asked, a mischievous smile growing on her lips.
You sigh, the pieces falling into place. Hela clicked her tongue, both of them slowly moving closer. “You were very rebel. You need a punishment.”
You swallowed hard as she knelt on the bed, her hands sliding up your thighs before pulling your body down, your center wet just inches from her mouth. You were about to scream when you felt your mother, Valkyrie, cover your mouth, murmuring a low “shh”.
You closed your eyes, arching your back inevitably as Hela's mouth pulled at your clitoris, sucking and nibbling, while you moaned both in pain and pleasure.
Wrong, that was wrong.
You felt a weight on the bed, Valkyrie's hand coming out of your mouth. You opened your eyes, your face heating up as you came face to face with the sight of her pussy just inches from your face.
“You better be as good at sucking as you are at strutting, baby girl.” she said, and you didn't have time to process it when she sat on your face.
You opened your mouth, your eyes widening as your body reacted quickly. At the same time you moaned at the taste of your mother's wet folds, Hela moaned as her tongue slid over your wet folds. You moaned against Valkyrie's pussy, and in response, she moved one hand back, holding your hair, while the other played with one of your breasts, letting out hoarse moans.
“Damn”. You heard Carol say. She climbed onto the bed beside you, her hand descending to grab your free breast. You let out a muffled moan when she pinched your sensitive nipple, your breath heavy. “You are forbiddenly hot. You know that, don't you, princess?”
You moaned when she slapped your breast, the sensation, mixed with Hela's tongue entering your entrance and the taste of your mother in your mouth, drove you crazy, but with more guilt. Your inexperienced tongue tried to explore as much of the pussy as possible while she riding your face, but it was difficult when your body was being used by two other women.
“Fuck you suck me so well!” Valkyrie moans as you move your mouth to suck her swollen clitoris. “Our baby girl is doing so well, Carol!”
The blonde moaned in response, leaning down. She replaced her finger with her mouth, her tongue swirling around your nipple before gently biting it. You moaned against Valkyrie's intimacy, making her arch her back. Hela decided to replace her mouth with two fingers, and you screamed when they penetrated your virgin and tight vagina all at once. She just smiled in response.
“So responsive.” murmured, licking her lips with your taste. Her fingers were not gentle, thrusting deeply and quickly.
“Hela, give her a break, it's our girl's first time.” Valkyrie said between moans, closing her eyes as she felt a familiar knot forming in her stomach.
Carol let go of your breast with a loud pop, staring at Hela. You whined when Valkyrie came on your face, next to you. Hela withdrew her blood-stained fingers, bringing them to Carol's mouth, who moaned as she sucked on the fingers, your taste making her dizzy.
Valkyrie got off you, kneeling on the bed, then placing a hand on your chin, lifting your face dirty with her cum. Hela smiled, then Valkyrie pressed her lips against yours. Your eyes widened in shock, refusing to return the kiss.
“Don't be a brat, accept what your mother is giving you!” Carol scolded, her hand slapping your pussy.
You screamed against Valkyrie’s lips, making the mistake of opening your mouth. Her tongue entered, exploring everything it could, tasting her on your lips. You had barely noticed Carol between your legs, lifting them and admiring your pussy with almost no trace of virginity.
“That's it.” The blonde murmured, her warm breath against your wetness. You opened your eyes, looking at her with wide eyes. “I'm going to ruin that pussy, babe. Maybe this way you will listen to your mothers, huh?”
You shudder at the dark tone in her voice, her eyes fixed on yours as her mouth delves into your pussy. Valkyrie interrupted the breathless kiss, hearing your moan as she felt Carol's tongue clean the blood from your wet folds. You barely had time to catch your breath before your stepmother turned your face to the side, her lips devouring your mouth.
You tried to comply, even tho you still thot that situation was a mistake. A sin. But they didn't care about that. Not when your lips, breasts and pussy begged to be taken by them. Accepting that would be better, maybe then they would free you from the punishment?
When you felt Carol's breath pull away from your intimacy, you thot it was over, that it couldn't get worse (better), until you heard the zipper of her pants unbuttoning. Hela finally interrupted the kiss, but covered your mouth with one hand as a precaution. You three looked at Carol, you scared, as she lowered her pants and boxers, revealing her 24-centimeter penis.
You swallowed hard, about to get up, but Hela summoned a dagger with her free hand, pressing it against your neck. You stood still, frightened. “Don't make the punishment worse, my love,” she murmured, leaning her face to your neck, where she began to distribute kisses and hickeys.
You whined, but remained still, the cold dagger pressing against your neck was by no means more frightening than your mother's penis; visible veins, thick, almost glowing along with her Captain Marvel powers. She smiled maliciously at your reaction, leaning in to brush the member against your folds, making your body arch, needing more friction.
Your body, not your mind.
“You are an impatient little darling, baby girl.” Valkyrie murmured, her hand taking the dagger from Hela's hand, who switched the other hand covering your mouth.
“You look beautiful in any position,” Carol murmured, her hands moving to grab your hip, her penis brushing against your folds once again. “but I think your stepmother needs some attention too, don't you think, babe?”
You looked at Hela, who smiled mischievously, taking her hand away from your mouth. You screamed when Carol used her strength to turn you onto your stomach on the bed, before pulling your hips back and holding you down. You were on all fours, in front of your mother and stepmother, behind your other mother. Carol bit her lip at the sight, not avoiding giving one of your buttocks a slap, loving the moans you let out.
Hela stood on the floor, lifting her dress and provocatively pulling down her panties, the sight making you and Valkyrie bite lips. She returned to the bed, sitting in front of you, before spreading her legs, giving you a view of her wet pussy.
“Mommy here needs your mouth, princess.” It wasn't a question, it was an order.
Valkyrie moved her hand to your hair, wrapping some strands around her fingers and pulling your head forward against her will, your mouth colliding with your stepmother's intimacy. The older woman let out a moan mixed with a growl, her hand joining Valkyrie's in your hair, both guiding your mouth. You slid your tongue between Hela's folds, the taste being as good as your mother's.
Carol observed the scene, her eyes fixed on the expressions Hela made while her tongue worked on her pussy, trying to please your stepmother. The blonde opened a sinister smile, pushing her body forward. Her big, thick cock penetrating your tight entrance without any mercy.
You screamed, but Hela and Valkyrie kept their hand in your hair, driving your movements, not allowing you to scream or breathe. And Carol hadn't even fully bottomed out when you moved back, your body seeking more friction.
The blonde gathered all her strength to not lose control and use her powers, her hands gripping your buttocks with the slightest force, which would surely leave marks from her nails. When she reached the bottom, she sighed deeply, taking a moment to close her eyes and appreciate your wet walls squeezing her cock. Your moans came out muffled as you sucked on Hela's pussy. The dagger now on the bed, as it was no longer useful.
You wouldn't try to escape. Not when Carol fit you perfectly.
She moved after a few seconds, almost completely pulling out, before thrusting harder. You whimper, your eyes filled with tears from the recent pain between your legs.
“So fucking tight!” Carol moaned, repeating the movement, letting out a low growl. “R-Ready to take my cock like a good little girl?”
You had no way to respond. Hela and Valkyrie pulled your hair, your face distancing itself from the intimacy of your stepmother. You cried, nodding.
“Y-Yes, mommy.” you screamed when you felt another slap on your other buttock.
“It's ‘daddy’!”
“Y-Yeah, daddy!” Carol increased the pace as your mouth fell back onto Hela's pussy.
The older one growled when she reached climax, Valkyrie moving your face away and letting your hair down so she could ‘clean’ the Goddess. Hela also let your hair down, starting to moan again as Valkyrie gave her attention. But your moans hadn't stopped, not when Carol was thrusting deeply into your vagina, her cock opening your pussy and making your head spin.
“D-daddy!” you scream between moans, your hands gripping the sheets. “M-more!” You weren't sure when you started to like this, but you couldn't think straight while your daddy's cock hit your G-spot with each thrust.
“Admit it, babe” she hissed, breathless, her eyes slowly turning golden. “admit that you like daddy's cock stretching you and taking your virginity. Admit it!”
You moaned when Hela came for the second time, now in Valkyrie's mouth, before her eyes turned to you, their girl. You gripped the sheets tighter, feeling your walls tremble.
“Y-Yeah, Daddy!” you moaned, looking at your mothers. “I love your cock thrusting deep into my virgin pussy!!”
Valkyrie smiled at the sight, feeling Hela's arms pulling her to the side, into her lap. The two began a wet kiss, their eyes not straying from the sight.
“I'm going to get you pregnant, doll.” Carol growled, feeling her own orgasm building up. “I'm going to fill you with all my sperm. Do you want that? Do you want daddy to make you mommy?”
You moaned at the thought, your mind becoming hazy, white. Not even the alcohol caused you this effect. Valkyrie and Hela broke the kiss, the Goddess's hands pulling Valkyrie's bra down, exposing her firm breasts, immediately taking one into her mouth, although both of their eyes were fixed on you.
You closed your eyes. “Y-Yes. P-please, Daddy!” you pleads, and Carol doesn't wait any longer.
The sensation of your walls exploding and immediately being covered by Carol's liquid made your stomach churn. Not in a bad way. Your face fell weak, on the bed, buried in the sheet as you felt your last spurt of semen trickle down your thigh. Carol kept fucking you, more slowly, her body glowing in gold as her powers projected.
She pulled away when she ensured that all of her sperm was inside your ruined vagina, before slowly pulling away, the wet sound arousing her again. Upon seeing your fainted figure on the bed, she cast a glance at Hela, who at that moment already had her fingers inside Valkyrie.
“Shall we continue?” she asked. Valkyrie looked at your exhausted body before smiling at Carol, who understood the message. “Got it…”
You frowned with your eyes closed, your hand running over your sweaty forehead. You opened your eyes slowly, thinking it was all a lucid dream. Until you moaned when you felt something hard pressing against your G-spot. You raised your head in shock, eyes wide as you saw your mother between your legs, using a strap-on, smiling when she realized you were awake.
“Oh, good afternoon.” She murmured playfully, without stopping the thrusts. You kept moaning, still confused. “How did you sleep, my dear? Did you dream of us?”
Her teasing made your heart skip a beat. Your head fell back onto the pillow again. Valkyrie didn't stop for a moment, holding your thighs firmly apart.
It wasn't a dream.
Carol and Hela came out of the bathroom, still naked. The blonde was still aroused, her penis never failing to stay erect, especially with the sight of her (almost) ex-wife fucking you.
“I'm going to prepare the afternoon coffee.” Hela murmured, grabbing one of the robes from the wardrobe, then leaving the bedroom, not before casting a seductive glance at you.
You arched your back when Valkyrie hit your G-spot again, your body betraying you as your climax exploded. You looked at Carol, scared.
“What is it, my dear?” she asks playfully, walking over to sit beside you. “It's like they say; Mommy loves, Daddy takes care.”
You bit your lip as Valkyrie withdrew from you.
“And the stepmother adores.” Hela murmured, returning to the bedroom with a glass of milk of a strange color. And you are still grounded, princess”.
You lay your head back on the pillow.
Damn costume party.
“We're not done yet.” Carol murmurs, and you feel Valkyrie's hands being replaced by the blonde's on your thighs, before your glass was pulled to sit on top of her, right over your erection. “The punishment lasts all day.”
You would have let out a grunt if she hadn't attacked your lips with a deep, but hungry kiss. Valkyrie let out a laugh as Hela handed her the glass of milk.
And really, your mommy, daddy and stepmom took care of you, adored you, and loved you all day and night. As punishment for you being irresistible.
Summary: She finds you talking to a guard in the garden and makes you cum until she’s satisfied as a punishment.
Warnings; mistress kink, punishment, praise/degradation kink, light spanking, fingering, vibrator, overstimulation, girl penis, breeding kink, cunnilingus, a little aftercare.
Word Count:
A/n: This is my first Hela fanfic!
You were roaming around the castle’s garden, trying to pass the time. Hela was currently in a Royal meeting, leaving you to fend for yourself. It was really boring without her but looking at all the beautiful flowers helped. You started picking some to make a flower crown for her for when she was done when one of the guards thought it was a good idea to talk to you.
“Hey sweet thing, what are you doing all alone?” The man dumbly asked.
“I don’t think you should be talking to me-” you stammered out. He smirked at your response, stepping closer to you.
“Why’s that? Is there a reason you’re so nervous?” You immediately took a step back.
“Look, she’s going to be out any minute now, please go.” He chuckled, taking another step closer to you.
“Who is ‘she’? Your mother?”
“She’s talking about me.” Hela says from behind the idiotic man. The man immediately tenses and you do the same, knowing what was to come. He slowly turns around to face her, the smirk completely wiped off his face.
“M-my queen! I didn’t see you there!”
“You have five seconds to get out of my sight before I shred you into nothing.” She said coldly. He didn’t need to be told twice. He was out of the garden in less than a second, not even looking back. Hela then turned her attention to you, a cold look in her eyes.
“And what were you doing?”
“I was j-just picking flowers to make you a c-crown…” You stuttered, showing her the flowers you had picked out. She took the flowers from your hand, inspecting them.
“I see,” she said, her cold look slowly fading away as she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to her side, “But that doesn’t make up for the fact that you were talking to a man. You know the rules.”
“B-but he came to me and I was trying to send him away-” you immediately started to explain. She placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking at her.
“You still shouldn’t have been talking to him. I thought you knew better, pet.”
“Please, mistress-” She smirked as she saw you pleading with her. She loved it when you begged her.
“You know I don’t give second chances when it comes to breaking my rules, pet. I think you need a punishment to remind you who you belong to.”
“…yes, mistress,” you said, defeated. She chuckled and began to walk, pulling you along with her into her chambers.
“Good girl. Now let’s see…what kind of punishment will you be getting…” You dreaded any type of punishment from her. She always had extreme punishments in store yet you secretly enjoyed them. Once inside the room, she ordered you to take off your clothes while she sat down on the bed before pulling you into her lap. She started to play with your hair as she thought about a suitable punishment for you.
“Oh I know exactly what you need,” she slid you off her lap, going to her closet and pulling out a box you knew too well.
“Mistress, please-” you pleaded again, knowing too well what she was going to do.
“Oh, you’re begging already? We’ve barely even started, pet,” She chuckled and sat down on the bed again, patting her lap as a signal for you to lay across it. You obeyed quickly, not wanting to get a worst punishment. She put your arms behind your back and tied them together with a silk rope. After she slowly started tracing her fingers over your naked skin, making you shiver.
“I’m going to fuck this little cunt until I am satisfied and you’re going to take everything I give you. I’ll make sure to make you come until you beg me to stop, understood?”
“Y-yes, mistress.” She smiled in satisfaction. She then moved her fingers towards your soaked pussy, dipping them in your wetness.
“Would you look at that? For someone who doesn’t like to be punished, you sure are soaked by the mere thought.” She wasted no time before thrusting two fingers inside with a relentless pace right off the bat. You whine pathetically, embarrassed by wet noises your pussy was making.
“Don’t be embarrassed, darling. I love how your pussy sounds and it’s such a pretty sound,” She started to pick up the pace, knowing just how to make you fall apart in a matter of seconds.
“Ahh! Mistress!”
“That’s it. I love it when you’re a whiny little mess for me. You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?” She continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you at an unrelenting pace, curling them every time she was fully inside you. You came almost immediately after her taunting comment, your juices gushing out. She helped you ride it out and then pulled her fingers out, giving your cheeks a hard smack. She watched you try to catch your breath, then she smacked your ass again, leaving another red hand print.
“That was just one orgasm, darling. We’re not even close to being done yet,” you trembled at the reminder. She waved her hands and a vibrator apparently in her hand. She started rubbing the tip of the toy over your folds, making sure to tease you before turning it on to the highest setting and shoving it inside you.
“Ah!” You yelped at the sudden roughness. She chuckled as you yelped, using her other hand to keep your hips in place.
“What’s the matter, pet? Can’t handle a little toy?”
“I- I can-” You said, wanting to please her. She grabbed your hair pulling it up, forcing you to look at her. She smirked again.
“Prove it then, darling.” She started thrusting the toy in and out of you. You found it very difficult not to squirm to get away. You were someone who would get really sensitive after just one orgasm and she knew that. She knew how sensitive you were, which is why she kept the toy on high, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. She watched your face, taking in all your expressions and moans as you tried to keep yourself from coming again.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to cum again?” You wanted to but you knew it would only get worse from there. She knew exactly what you were thinking and it amused her.
“Come on, pet. Don’t hold back on me. I know you want to cum again. I can tell by how much you’re shaking.” You immediately let go, too tired to hold back anymore. She smirked as you finally came, a look of satisfaction on her face as she turned the toy off.
“There’s a good little slut. That’s the second one. How many more do you think you can handle?”
“N-no more-” She chuckled, moving her hand up to your face and cupping your chin.
“Oh pet, you’re not getting a choice. You’re going to take whatever I give you, whether you like it or not.” She picked you up and threw you in the bed, tying your hands to the headboard now. She started taking her clothes off to reveal her already hardened cock. You clenched your thighs together at the sight. She noticed you clenching your thighs together and chuckled.
“There’s no getting away from this pet,” she knelt on the bed in between your legs, roughly spreading them apart. You clenched your eyes tightly, trying to embrace yourself to take her. She’s never been gentle when she fucked you, not even when her cock was as big as it was but you liked it. It still didn’t make it any easier for you. She ran her hands over your body, appreciating the sight of you being all tied up and spread out for her. She then grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.
“Look at me while I’m fucking you. Understand?”
“Yes, mistress.” She smirked and gave your cheek a light slap before moving her hands to your hips, digging her nails into your skin. She then positioned herself at your entrance, teasing you a little bit before finally pushing inside with a deep groan.
“Uugh!” She bottomed out, a belly bulge forming as she did. She looked down at your belly, a satisfied smirk on her face as she placed her hand on the bulge, gently rubbing it with her thumb. She let out another groan, loving the feeling of you clenching around her.
“Gods, you feel so good, pet…” You tugged at the silk rope, wanting to touch her in anyway but it was useless. She chuckled at your attempts to get out of the restraints, clearly enjoying the sight of you all helpless and needy. She then grabbed your legs, putting them over her shoulders before starting to pound into you with a rough and fast pace.
“P-please! Slow d-down!” You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes.
“Why would I do that, pet?” She said in between groans, ignoring your pleas and continuing to thrust into you at a relentless pace. She wanted to ruin you, make you cry out for her and forget everything except her name. She was determined to get what she wanted.
Her cock kept hitting your g-spot, over and over again and soon you came on her cock for the third time of the night. She kept going, even after you came again. She was close to her own release but wanted to make you come undone once more before she did. She gripped your hips tightly, her thrusts getting even more sloppy as she chased her own orgasm.
“Tell your mistress how much you want her to cum inside you.” She commanded in between pants.
“I…I want-” you couldn’t get the words out with how fucked out you were.
“Come on, pet. Use your words. I know you can do it.” She gave a particularly hard thrust, trying to coax the words out of you.
“Haah! C-cum inside me m-mistress!” She let out a low growl at your words, her pace becoming erratic as she started to near her release. She leaned down and began leaving marks all over your neck and chest, claiming you as hers.
“Good girl. Good slut…” She came with a groan, fucking her load deep inside your guts, making sure not to waste a drop. She stayed buried inside you for a moment, riding out her orgasm before slowly pulling out. She looked down at your ruined form, admiring the way her cum was spilling out of you.
“You did so good, pet. Such a good little slut for me,” she started rubbing her cum all over your pussy lips, “But you still owe me one more,” she waved her hand once again and a toy you knew too well appeared in her hand.
“No! Please! No more!” It was another vibrator but this one was different. Every time Hela used it on you, you came hard almost immediately and you’d be sobbing by the end. She loved to see you cry which is why she would always save it for last.
“Aw, but you look so beautiful when you’re crying. Besides, I can tell that you’re still being stubborn. You need to be taught a lesson, my darling.” She grabbed your chin again, forcing you to look up at her. She turned the toy on, letting it hum loudly as she brought it to your pussy.
“No, no, no, no- AH!” As soon as the toy made contact with your clit, you could feel your orgasm building up. Hela chuckled at your reaction, loving how sensitive you were to the toy. She started rubbing it against your clit in tight circles, watching you squirm beneath her.
“That’s it. Just give in, pet. Give into the pleasure.”
“Mistress! Please no more!” You squirmed even more.
“You keep begging me to stop, but you know that it’s no use. I know you’re enjoying this, even if you won’t admit it,” she continued to rub the toy against your clit, enjoying the sight of you squirming and trying to get away from the overstimulation. You sobbed hysterically when your fifth orgasm finally washed over you. Your sight was blurred by your tears and you couldn’t feel your legs.
She smiled, satisfied with the result. She finally turned off the toy and set it aside, gently rubbing your thighs to try and calm you down a bit.
“You look so pretty when you cry, darling. All blissed out and ruined. So perfect for me.” She licked your tears away, humming at the salty taste. She then moved down your body, kissing and nipping at it until she reached your ruined pussy. You started to panic, thinking she was going to make you cum again until she shushed you.
“Relax, darling. I’m just cleaning you up,” she said before gently running her tongue through your folds, lapping up her cum that was leaking out of you. You whimpered pathetically every time her tongue made contact with your swollen clit. She chuckled against you, enjoying the sounds you were making. She continued to clean you up, being careful not to overstimulate you too much. Once she was done, she looked up at you, a smirk on her face.
“You taste so good, darling. I think I’m going to have to do this more often.”
“Was I good?” you asked in a small voice. She moved up and untied the rope, gently massaging your wrists to get some blood flowing through them again. She then laid down next to you, pulling you into her arms and nuzzling her face into your neck.
