@𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞

deadass i love this concept because carol danvers is that bitch who would lit rally fly across the universe just so she could fuck her tease of a gf!! hope you like this and thanks for the request love

not taking anymore requests

carol glimpses down at her phone that once again buzzes in her palm, a text from you appearing on screen. she shifts her ship into auto-pilot and kicks back, lips tugging upward to form a gentle smile.

when she opens your text, the smile shifts in a smirk, her eyes going dark. she can feel her clit throb at the sight coming up on her screen: it’s you in the mirror, completely naked. your nipples are hard and you’ve got one hand squeezing your tit while the other holds the phone. your pussy is on display due to the subtle spread of your legs, and your collarbones look sharp and god, you look so fucking hot. droplets of water cover your skin and your hair is damp and tangled, only making the image even hotter. thinking of you in the shower... she bites back a moan.

carol chuckles under her breath, and rests her hand against her pussy (which was currently shielded by the thick material of her suit).

miss you... ;)

your girlfriend sees the text pop up, and replies with a simple heart and winky face back.

clearly, you’re not pleased with the response.

because minutes later carol is receiving another text from you. this time it’s a video. she gasps at the cover—its you in the red lace bra she loves so much. when she plays the video, her teeth clamp down abruptly on her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. your lovely legs are hooked around a white pillow and you’re grinding your cunt firmly against it, your hips rolling and tits bouncing with the jerky movements.

your moans ring through the phone, and carol’s cunt is screaming for attention. it’s so fucking hot watching you do this... god, it’s driving her crazy. her lips part, and if it weren’t for the fact she had to swallow so thickly, she would’ve drooled all over herself in awe.

“carol, fuck... please, carol,” you moan sharply. in the video, you reach down into your bra and lift your tits out over the cups. you pinch your nipples firmly, face contorting in pain and pleasure.

“need you to fuck me, please. please, can i cum? want you to make me cum, carol...” you continue to chant. your tone is delicious and laced with desperation.

carol can’t take it anymore. she thinks fuck it, and her helmet immediately forms over her head. she flies at record speed to your apartment.

and all for some good pussy. huh.

you’re still humping your pillow when carol arrives twenty minutes later. ten minutes ago you already discarded your bra, and now you were entirely naked. the look on your face when she entered the bedroom was one she would never forget—it was both a mixture of fear and desire. fear, because you teased her. and carol always punishes you for that. desire, because well... now the ache between your thighs could be eased by the very person who caused it.

“such a naughty girl,” carol hums. her helmet retracts and her short locks are messy and sticky with sweat. she looks so strong and powerful in her suit. it clings to her perfectly, and you hurry to get up off the pillow and lay back against the mass of pillows on your bed. “humping that pillow... teasing me like that when you know i’ve got something important going on. have anything to say for yourself?”

you can’t help but smirk. “can i cum now?”

carol’s snorts, quirking a brow. “you’re a fucking brat. no you don’t get to cum. pretty girls who touch without permission get punished. punishment first, then if you’re good... fifty-percent chance of an orgasm later.”

you moan and clench your thighs together, your pussy pulsating. humping the pillow got you riled up, and so did sending those risqué photos and videos, but it wasn’t nearly enough to get you over the edge.

“now,” carol struts forward and grabs the box of toys from the closet. a pair of nipple clamps, a gag, a paddle, and flogger are laid out on the bed. “you get to choose. and don’t forget, my hands are also a choice.”

you swallow thickly and point towards the clamps, then carol.

OOOH i have never EVER gotten an ask for hela so i HAD to write this omlll anon your MIND !!! this is loosely based off of some concepts i found on i believe @caroldantops blog (and fair warning - this is VERY NSFW and contains some aspects of pet play. so if you’re not into that this probably isn’t for you!)

sleepover + blurb night!

your knees are sore from the hard marble tile of the throne room, but you’re no longer as cold as you were when you were first “adjusted” beside the throne earlier that morning.

you’re completely naked, nipples burning from the bulky silver clamps keeping them erect. the black leather collar around your neck is constrictive and makes it difficult to breathe—and it certainly doesn’t help when hela yanks harshly on the leash to tug you between her thighs. you remain fixed on your knees, your calves strapped to your thighs with several leather straps, practically gluing them together and preventing you from even so much as raising your bottom off the ground.

your leather-bound wrists and elbows make your chest thrust out marvelously, almost as if to display the clamps that adorn your perky little nipples. a sheer layer of saliva eternally leaks from the massive ring gag holding your mouth gaping wide and drips onto the tops of your tits and collarbones. you look like a mess, really. you’re just grateful hela had your hair pulled back into a tight, slick ponytail to prevent it from getting soaked with your spit.

however, hela’s favorite piece of the entire outfit is the back leather harness that circles your body. it frames your tits perfectly and connects to the matching leather thigh bands. it’s really a beautiful piece of jewelry, designed by hela herself specially for you and your wonderful figure.

“mm, sit up straight, pet. that’s another edge,” she hums, yanking on your leash. you choke, and immediately straighten your stance. your back shoots up like a pencil and you spread your legs a little further, pain shooting through your limbs from the uncomfortable position.

anticlimatically, the vibrations against your clit start up again. hela had a powerful vibrator tied snug against your pleasure bud, the remote in her hand being the oh-so-lovely enactor. you were out of your mind horny by now—you couldn’t even recall what number edge this was.

she played with you all morning long while you sat in the throne room—her obedient little pet—licking her pussy whenever she pleased and riding the cock impaling your cunt whenever she had a visitor report to her for the day.

the number one rule: no cumming.

the number two rule: no stopping.

under by no means or circumstances were you allowed to shield yourself from the guards and visitors who entered the throne room. no, hela liked to show you off. she liked everyone knowing she was well taken care of and she liked it when people watched her desperate little play thing hump the cock all pathetically while serious conversation was taking place.

you can’t help the moans that spill from your lips as the vibrations continue their assault on your clit. it’s been edge after edge since you woke up this morning, and tears leak out of your eyes because you’re so fucking desperate. all you want is to cum. you can’t take it anymore.

you begin thrashing in your restraints, your grunts strangled and sharp. your tits bounce with your violent jerks and you close your thighs to amplify the wonderful sensations. you’re so fucking close, and with hela too distracted talking to the visitor before the throne, she probably won’t notice. after all, you make noises like this all the time...

you whimper, spit flying from your mouth as the vibrations disappear. the cock that still impales your hole keeps you full, yet doesn’t provide you the stimulation you need to cum. you’re hot as you hump the floor, dismissing the pain shooting through your tits.

“just a naughty fucking slut you are, pet,” hela spits. she yanks on the leash and drags you over to the throne, bending over to reach between your thighs. you cry in dismay as she removes the cock, still slick with your juices. your pussy clenches around the air.

“ah wahha cuhum,” you whine.

hela glares. “pets don’t cum. that’s another month for you, dear. now, guard, fetch me the spreader bar.”

one of the guards shuffles off and hela tugs your collar even closer, holding up the cock beside your face. an evil smirk curves up on her lips and you moan as she slips the dildo into your mouth, filling up your oral cavity until the tip nearly touches the back of your throat. it takes you a moment to get used to the invasive feeling, and the taste of your own sex immediately explodes within your mouth. but regardless, you instinctively begin to suck, your noises nearly entirely muted by the new gag.

hela lines the base of the cock up with the ring gag, then twists it. you’re shocked when you can’t push out the gag—somehow, she’s locked it into place. and now it’s stuck.

you’re eyes water, and you shake your head, trying to spit it out. hela only laughs at the pathetic attempt, then pulls on your nipple clamps.

“you brought this upon yourself, pet. this is what happens when you behave poorly,” she twists your ponytail in her hand. “you’re punished. properly. now, no orgasms for a month—which is quite a shame. tonight i considered finally granting you permission. it appears as if you’re simply just not ready.”

you whimper into the gag, again thrashing in your restraints. hela merely leans back and awaits for the spreader bar to arrive.

once it does, she gets up and locks leather cuffs around your ankles, then stretches the spreader bar as far as it can go. your cunt is suddenly on completely display to anyone who walks in (and the guards who are already present). there’s no hiding it—your wetness or your puffy folds.