haljacraft

[haljacraft]

❥     𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .

inspired  by  devotedecay’s  non - sexual  acts  of  dominance  meme  ! send  in  one  of  these  for  my  muse’s  reaction  to  … (  add  ❝  reverse  ❞   if  you’d  like  to  see  how  my  muse  would  preform  the  action  !  )

[ shower ]   your muse joining mine in the shower.

[ choke ]   your muse choking mine.

[ kiss + soft ]   your muse pulling mine into a tender kiss.

[ kiss + rough ]   your muse pulling mine into a rough kiss.

[ pin ]   your muse pinning mine down.

[ wrists ]   your muse roughly grabbing mine by the wrists.

[ push ]   your muse pushing mine into bed.

[ rip + clothing ]   your muse tearing a piece of clothing off my muse.

[ spank ]   your muse spanking mine.

[ pull ]   your muse pulling my muses hair.

[ talk ]   your muse talking dirty to mine.

[ eyes ]   your muse making mine look them in the eyes during.

[ down ]   your muse pulling mine down by their collar / clothes.

[ knees ]   your muse telling mine to get on their knees.

[ hips ]   your muse pulling mine in close by the hips.

[ denial ]   your muse putting mine through orgasm denial.

[ many ]   your muse making mine orgasm over and over.

[ tied ]   your muse tying my muse down.

[ lazy ]   your muse lazily beginning to touch mine.

[ love ]   your muse telling mine they love them during.

[ dominance ]   your muse taking the lead and dominating mine.

[ submission ]   your muse letting mine take the lead and submitting to them.

[ humiliation ]   your muse humiliating mine, re: name-calling and verbal abuse.

[ pain ]   your muse hurting mine in bed, whether intentionally or not.

[ knife ]   your muse using a knife in bed, whether for threat or actually cutting mine.

[ hidden ]   your muse having sex with mine somewhere semi-public.

[ public ]   your muse having sex with mine in public, whee other people watch.

[ adore ]   your muse being near reverent with mine in bed.

[ dress ]   your muse having mine dress up in lingerie.

[ eat ]   your muse eating mine out.

[ sleep ]   your muse touching / beginning to have sex with mine while they’re asleep.

[ gag ]   your muse gagging mine, or or making them be quiet.

[ blindfold ]   your muse blindfolding mine.

[ praise ]   your muse praising mine in bed.

[ good ]   your muse calling mine a good boy / girl.

[ want ]   your muse telling mine they want them.

[ snarl ]   your muse growling and / or baring their teeth at mine during sex.

[ mark ]   your muse purposefully marking mine up with bruises, hickies, ect.

[ wall ]   your muse shoving mine up against a wall.

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all replies in a bit. i need a mental recharge from today

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And there it was. Hela could devour the man in one quip. One gulp. Yet, he indulged a moment of tease between them. He encouraged more as Frank's greedy fingertips sought the bounds of his hips. For a moment, The Goddess was quite fond of such possession. He does not bend to the mortal's will nor hand. Not even as his prat is spread. He growled low with lust glazed over his gaze. Those prominent green hues swam through the reflection of the opposing eyes as he oriented before him. His own fingers reel up and down Frank's spine as he gripped the fabric tightly. Not only did he feel the tension anteriorly, he should've felt the seams resist the posterior torsion.

"Some consider you a warrior with a past, illuminated by many misgivings. I would've loved to endure your ferocity." For Frank's generosity and grace, he served him a bit of dignity--though bearing witness to offering himself to the hunger of a deity was bragging rights. "Consider me benevolent, Frank Castle." He nudged the vigilante with his core, causing the mortal to trip through a one way portal- a room overlooking Manhattan, and out of his suit. The fabric does tear but maybe Hela will be generous enough to present him with a duplicate.

"Honesty will serve you very well, in the moment." Hela sprawls across the massive bed, drawing circles on the velvet bedding. "Do you find yourself capable of fucking me mercilessly? Only mount this platform and bury your cock in my mouth if you if you feel mighty enough," peeked up at him to acknowledge his decision.

"Depends on what you mean by fulfill." He smirks before feeling the pressure of the Hela's hand around his throat, making it hard to breath. Even so, Frank lets out halfhearted chuckle. His pulse being felt more prominently against the goddess's fingertips brought some additional pressure within the man's denim jeans. Not that their presence wasn't enough to cause Frank to stand on ceremony in a sense - perhaps even beyond ceremony.

The chuckle turns into a groan as Hela's body is pressed to his, his dark hooded eyes staring into those of the goddess' mesmerizing hazel eyes. The vigilante's hands brush across the goddess' skin gently, reposed against Hela's hips. There was an unusual excitement in seeing his hand against the goddess' hips, the sense of scale and height difference was usually put upon many of Frank's past dance partners. For the shoe to be on the other foot, if what Hela was wearing on his feet would count as shoes, Frank couldn't help but find his point of view particularly quite titillating.

"We're starting on your left, I'm guessing?" He hums, necking pressing itself into Hela's lips. His calloused hands traveling down their body, fingers spreading and collecting him in his hands, kneading across the goddess' ass.

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"You forget the audience you share, Odinson." Hela smirked, carefully weaving through the curious gaze of mortal and immortal, alike. The crown was obviously a statement piece so most did not forget the namesake of the deity. No one had the authority to force him to bend-knee, so why dilute his experience with such minor notions. He does; however, tailor the span for something comfortable for them all.

"I can not recall the last time I've allowed myself to place such nectar to my lips." Hela watched Thor down the entirety of his drink like a mighty whale swallowing an entire school of fish. Or Jormungdar devouring his own tail. There were few times the goddess would be impressed and watching the Asgardians drink and eat beyond their fill always had an inkling of astonishment. Hela settles for a glass of Absinthe. Straight. "Challenge a god, then."

int.    the white castle casino bar.    night.

"   please. do not think of this as me doubting your strength and constitution.           everybody here is extraordinary for a reason! i am merely stating facts.   "    thor says, as he mixes his drink with the dark liquid he carried here from asgard. blood mead, the drink of gods and heroes who occupy the halls of valhalla ... and the only drink that can get him drunk.

it's already a strong drink for him, so he could only imagine what it could do to a midgardian.    "   you will not be able to handle it. so, you enjoy your little mortal juice ... and leave the godly drinks to the gods.   "

open for everyone! @shieldreports.

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made sure I had no replies to do so I think I'm going to search for Simon's gala outfit. while I do that, I'm going to throw myself at some starters so if you get a reply and you're over that starter, feel free to let me know.

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before I even consider a third, I need more stuff on Hela and Kwannon. going to look back at some starters I may have missed

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"Can we be indulged? Is that what you want to fulfill?" It was such a question that Hela wasn't even sure how to approach it. Should he stroke the pride of the mortal or leave him seeking revelations? "Depends on the intention. The purpose, if you will." Such a specimen. The mortal dared to stare into the eyes of the hel-bound deity that he probably long forgotten whom was before him. A low guttural growl resonated in his throat. Once freed, he adjusts before Frank. He reached up to collect his chiseled jaw within his grasp. He appraised him and the feeling of his death-defiance was quite seductive to the goddess.

Hela purred. The other hand swaddles the man in a rolling embrace that kneads the fabric of his armor. Unlike mortal limitations, it was skin-to-skin. He'd squeeze muscles. Caress skin. Every inch of the man's body was at the deity's mercy. To think, he was so close to a master of death. His warm hold weaves about, drawing him closer. He idly toys, taunting the man as if the world around them did not matter- as it did not. Time was but a figment and perhaps they were operating outside ordinary principles. Hela's 'armor' withered, revealing a crown upon his head and supple flesh. Hue as if the sun had kissed his very essence.

"Dare to dance with death?" Hela captured the man's chin in the succulent busses of his lips, like melting into a sea of heat. "Do you offer me an offering?"

"Yeah... Pain has a habit of making me remember that." Frank couldn't help but mirror the other's smirk, albeit the smirk paled in comparison in size as the vigilante wasn't usually one to smile. His tongue ran along the back of his top teeth, intrigued by how the literal god towered over him. Not wanting to insult the god, Frank did as was asked, his eyes traveling down towards the other's chest. His own breath seemed to follow along with Hela's, watching as the larger chest in front of him raised and fell with each breath.

"And what about yourself? How are you to indulge yourself? Can gods be indulged?" Franks eyes look up to look into Hela's eyes, his hands also reach up towards the cuffs binding the god's hands. While there was an initial hesitation in releasing the Asgardian of them, something about how the other man looked at him made Frank feel like it would be quite a fun time - that, or at least a quick death.

His fingers tease themselves across the cuff's release mechanism, his smirk growing more as Frank continued to entertain the thought. "Can't really feel your grip with these on, now can I?" He chimes lowly, the click of the cuffs release following after his words.

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"How fascinating." Hela leaned toward him. He'd offer perhaps a very weak attempt at a smile. It could've been described as a twitch at best. The goddess was willing to exploit the soldier's physicality for as long as it was enjoyable. "I can feel you resisting urges, Captain America." Hela grinned as he was now closer to the hero. He could smell the lingering essence of perfume upon the blonde's skin.

"The thing about mortals is there's a button in all of you. Some deities even share such vulnerabilities." Hela walks behind him, resting his chin upon the man's shoulder. "Some are physical bundles of nerves. Some are psyche triggers." His lips barely graze the outer ring of his ear as he retracts from the man. The feeling of a hand brushed across the small of his back and the bound of his pelvis. "I think you are quite fond of having me here. I think you'd like it if I was even giving myself over to you in quite a compromising position."

Hela returned to the placement before him.

"I bet you'd even feel just as good as you'd taste."

"I'm sorry you don't feel that way towards family. All of mine is gone now. Long gone. The only people I have left are the friends I've made in this universe... sooner or later, the loneliness will get to you. Even if you're a god of some sort."

Steve 'Boy Scout' Rogers strikes again.

"I'm not as young as I look, Hel," Steve chuckles. "And whatever you're implying, I'm in enough control of myself to not falter before you. But you're more than willing to try your hardest, cause I can—"

Do not say it.

"Look, Hel, I think you're intelligent enough to know that I'm not worth such a hassle in your day, and I'd rather you didn't become one in mine, either. Can we just come to some sort of truce?"

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There was a likeness that drew the goddess to watch the disarray and dissension spiral from the events that led the gathering crowd to hiss and howl in celebration. He'd gather all he needed to know about the lack of anguish. Not a single drop of blood? A cut? A scrape? These mortals needed to learn what it was like to live. The brim of his [hat] tipped to cast a shadow that kissed the bounds of his cheeks and nose. His green eyes seemingly pulsed with otherworldly essence. And the venturing eyes of the bystanders drew more attention than some would've enjoyed. One with a keen eye would've been able to dispel the illusions woven by the intellect of this man; yet, Hela resists the urge to ruin his fun. For now.

"Why, yes. I'd love one of these things you all call autographs." Hela plays up the unsuspecting. The aloof. The absentminded. Though, he could spill the man's name from his succulent lips as if it were a devoted worship to his own namesake. Hel. He smirks, leaning to one side. He offered 'Mysterio' weighed pen, cast in real emerald and copper. He'd see the ink was gold should he use the deity's writing instrument. Perhaps to test him. To taunt. To tease. He could already imagine it was going to be a moment of enjoyment meddling with this mortal.

ㅤㅤㅤQuentin Beck had easily discovered that he hated being a hero. He had found it dreadfully boring, repetitive, and thankless. In this new reality he had started out small, rescuing cats out of trees and escorting old ladies across the street. But he was capable of so much more. Once deeds of a mysterious fishbowl wearing hero spread his antics picked up, fueled and brought to life by his array of drones. Mysterio had deliberately set a bank on fire, creating visions of devilish imps that spilled out of portals and into the establishment. Nobody was injured but the bank had nearly been burnt to the ground as a result. Mysterio arrived just in time to trap the imps, banish them back to their own realm, and to rescue the trapped civilians inside. Most of them had suffered smoke inhalation and had to be taken to the hospital, but their sacrifice was necessary. ㅤㅤㅤWith the bank's smoldering ruins behind him he stood in front of a gaggle of reporters, smiling brightly at them. This was what made heroism worth it. Not the saving of lives, but the fame that came with it. His fishbowl helmet had slid away, revealing a face that looked right at home on the silver screen. Once the interview was over Mysterio noted a passerby that had remained to ogle the building. "You looking for an autograph?"

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{ [WHITE CASTLE GALA] } Maybe we ought to sit this one out? Not likely. Hela chose something vintage for the sake of 'conforming' to this mortal dress code. Fitting. Enchanting. Expensive. The white pin-stripes combined with silver to give dimension- to contrast the black for depth as if staring into the abyss. The lack of a shirt revealed a low v-line that clasps just above the navel. His crowning helm was a rich crimson which was quite different from his normal green. His primary objective was to gather enough information about these guests. Perhaps to bend around the goddess' own will? Who knows. Something wicked could transpire and he didn't want to miss it.

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"I'd hate to be in such a familial way with Thor as a brother. By The Norns. Who knows how poorly that version of me would've been treated. Calling him uncle is only a kind gesture. It holds no true meaning." Hela scoffs. Eyes roll. An apology took the deity by surprise but he does not hint as much to the mortal. Instead, he chose to completely severe the topic from his attention. He focused solely on the theory that a "believer" is only obligated to their patron. Hela snickered. The surprise always amused him when he recalled the many surprised mortals who met the deity when it was time to collect.

"So young. So unaware." He cooed, drawing a very playful pout toward Steve. "It does not negate that throb and thump you're experiencing. Faint as it may be; in your awareness, I can almost feel the tightening of loins and the soft sheen of sweat." Hela chuckled as he leaned to one side. "I may not be a teddy bear but there's more than one way to melt in an embrace." Hela kept it vague intentionally. "And if you need me to be specific, you are tense but not in an emotional response."

"Uncle, right," Steve says to himself, almost chuckling. He still got all these other universes mixed up, even after all this time. "My apologies. Where I came from, he's your brother, although I feel like there's no love lost between you two either way. At least you're... consistent."

"I used to say I only worshipped one God, but these days it's more like none, so that means you have no power over me, Hel." His tone remains measured and stoic; he can't display fear against a formidable foe like them.

Steve feels Hel's eyes on him. Steely. Intentful. But most curiously... hungry. "Well, you're not exactly a cuddly teddy bear, are you? Anyone would be tense right now. But I don't see how you could possibly help — if I were tense, which I'm not. Not any more than your average Irish-American Catholic would be."