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All the female heroes in Marvel Rivals were crammed onto the massive couch, eyes glued to the screen as the Black Cat trailer played.
Her moveset had them buzzing with excitement: whip strikes, wall-crawling like Spider-Man and Venom, razor-sharp card throws, vicious claw combos, the ability to spend in-game currency for wild power-ups and artifacts, and even phasing through walls.
An insanely stacked toolkit for a so-called “street-tier” character.
But nobody was complaining. She was absolutely worth the hype.
And then there was the outfit.
The sleek black catsuit with soft fur accents and glowing purple highlights clung to every curve like it was painted on.
The mask and goggles teased just enough of her face while letting her long, luscious silver hair flow freely.
The stiletto heels and sharp gloves added that perfect extra layer of pure fetish fuel.
The design was so dangerously good it almost felt illegal.
But the real killer moment came near the end.
“Good boy, Petey~”
Said right to Spider-Man’s face.
The room instantly exploded.
Sue Storm turned bright red, slapping both hands over her mouth in pure shock.
Wanda Maximoff was giggling uncontrollably, sparks of pink chaos magic flickering around her fingers like she was on a killstreak.
Rogue cackled wildly, clutching her chest as if she might burst.
Jean Grey and the Phoenix Force were high-fiving, their telepathic cheers echoing in each other’s minds, while Psylocke leaned back with a knowing, razor-sharp smirk.
Angela rolled her eyes at the whole display, but even she couldn’t hide a small, amused smile.
Elsa Bloodstone was flat on the floor, pounding it with her fist in laughter.
Magik simply nodded in approval, one hand resting on the hilt of her Soulsword. She knew chaos when she saw it.
The rest of the ladies were losing it — some doubled over, others hyping each other up with cheers and whistles.
Even the usually regal, cold, and composed ones broke completely.
Emma Frost’s diamond form didn’t literally crack, but her icy composure sure did.
Storm’s eyes went wide as she desperately tried (and failed) to suppress her laughter.
And Hela, the Goddess of Death herself, was hunched over, wheezing, crown slightly askew.
It was glorious, unfiltered chaos.
Everyone was cackling.
…Well, almost everyone.
Mary Jane Watson sat on the far end of the couch, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unamused.
She wasn’t a playable character, but with her plushie in-game and all the voice lines referencing her, she’d earned honorary membership.
Right now, though, the redhead was the only one not laughing. She just stared at the screen with an annoyed glare, one eyebrow twitching.
"Are y'all done yet?" Mary Jane asked, clearly annoyed.
Most of the girls kept laughing, barely paying her any attention.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry!" Luna Snow wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes while still cracking up. "It's just so expected! Never in a million years would I have imagined Black Cat calling Spider-Man 'Good boy'!"
"Same!" Peni Parker squeaked, struggling to catch her breath. "I knew Felicia was a huge tease from everything Peter told me about her, but that? That was the last thing I expected!"
"She really said 'Good boy, Petey' right to his face!" Psylocke added, her otherworldly beautiful features lit up with pure amusement. "To his face!"
"And with that voice!" Squirrel Girl chimed in, grinning ear to ear. "The pitch and tone were perfect! So seductive, so sultry… that look that just screams 'I know what I want, and I know exactly how to get it.'"
"It's just a game," Mary Jane muttered, crossing her arms tighter. "She probably said that for fan service. I highly doubt she's actually calling my Peter a 'Good boy'… unless she wants a web-shooter to the face."
The whole room froze.
Every head turned to stare at MJ like she had suddenly grown two extra heads.
MJ raised an eyebrow. "What?"
The room exploded with laughter again — this time even louder than before.
"I'm sorry — your Peter?!" Dagger said, her voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. "Where was that energy all the times he saved your life?"
"Wha—"
"Yeah, aren’t you dating some dude named Paul now?" Squirrel Girl asked, eyes wide with disbelief. "Last I checked, he hasn’t been ‘your Peter’ for the past five years!"
"Excuse m—"
"You’re excused, sugah," Rogue cut in with a sweet-but-deadly drawl. "You really traded the man who’s saved you from death a dozen times… for some random office guy?"
"Well—"
"On top of that," Peni jumped in, "you knew Peter was coming to save you when you were stuck in that other dimension! But instead of waiting, you hooked up with Paul, adopted two random kids, and played happy family while Peter was out there teaming up with his arch-enemy just to rescue your sorry ass!"
"And after all that," Sue Storm added, giving MJ a deadpan ‘are you serious’ stare, "you still stuck with your fake family and told him ‘Never contact you again’? Girl… who does that?!"
"Alright, alright, alright!" MJ said, throwing her hands up defensively. "I know I haven’t exactly been the best to him—"
"That’s a fucking understatement—" someone muttered.
"SHUT UP!" MJ bellowed, then took a breath. "But in my defense, I didn’t know he’d go that far! Time worked differently there. After a while, I thought Peter had abandoned me. I had no idea five years in that dimension was only a few days back on Earth."
"So you immediately jump into bed with some random guy because you think you’ve been abandoned?" Magik asked coldly. "That’s weak."
"Excuse me?!" MJ gasped. "I am not weak—"
"Yes. You are." Magik said flatly, not blinking. "And to make it worse, those kids weren’t even real."
"I know you’re not talking about fake kids when Wanda is standing right there!" MJ snapped, pointing aggressively at the Scarlet Witch.
Wanda gave her a slow, unimpressed look. "First of all, I’m not that Wanda, remember?"
"Wait, hu—"
"Second," Wanda continued, jabbing a finger right back at MJ, "last I checked, my kids started as pieces of Mephisto’s soul but eventually became real people. So by all accounts, I actually have kids now. Your kids? They were never real. They were conjured by the Emissary for some dumb ritual, and the second he was done with them — poof. Gone."
"So on top of all that," Black Widow said, pausing for dramatic effect, "you get with a guy who punched Peter in the face… then play house with him, while Peter had to team up with the man who killed his first love and burn bridges with the Avengers just to save you?!"
"And what does he get in return?" Storm added, shaking her head in disappointment. "A cold text message telling him ‘Never contact us again’?"
The room fell dead silent.
MJ opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Angela stepped forward and delivered the final blow with icy calm:
"And you still have the audacity to call him ‘your Peter’?"
MJ stayed quiet this time, arms still crossed tight.
Emma Frost let out a low, elegant chuckle. "If fumbling the bag was an Olympic sport, this harlot would have more gold medals than the entire Avengers roster."
"You can say that again!" Rogue howled.
"Whatever!" MJ snapped, her face burning red. "Even if he’s not ‘my Peter’ anymore, I highly doubt he’s gonna fold for some flirty cat burglar. He’s not a teenager anymore. He’s grown. He’ll laugh it off and move on."
Emma looked at her like she was the dumbest person alive. "Sweetheart… did you even watch the trailer?"
"Well, ye—"
"Did you hear the way she sounded?" Emma leaned in, eyes glinting with telepathic smugness. "That wasn’t a tease, darling. That was a command. And trust me — a man who gets beaten down by the world every single day doesn’t just ‘laugh off’ a woman like Black Cat purring ‘good boy’ in his ear."
Rogue grinned wide. "Hell, I’d bet my entire Southern ass that the second she shows up, Peter’s gonna be on that girl like white on rice."
"Ew, don’t phrase it like that," Dagger shuddered, "but yeah… Peter is a man who barely gets any appreciation. One ‘good boy’ from a woman like Felicia? He’s folding like a cheap lawn chair."
"And you’ll be sitting right there watching while he fucks that PAWG in the ass," Sue Storm added casually.
The entire room whipped around to stare at Sue like she’d just grown a second head.
"Oh my~ I didn’t know you had it in you, Susan," Emma purred, smirking.
"EXCUSE ME?!" MJ shrieked, her face now the exact shade of her hair. "Peter is NOT like that! He’s a gentleman! He respects women! He would never just jump into bed with the first girl who bats her eyelashes at him!"
"First of all," Jean Grey said, arms crossed, "Felicia Hardy isn’t ‘some girl.’ She’s danger. She’s excitement. She’s everything a boring photographer’s life is missing."
"Second," Sue continued, her tone ice-cold, "you’re confusing ‘gentleman’ with ‘doormat.’ He put up with your back-and-forth nonsense for years. A woman who actually wants him — openly, shamelessly, and aggressively? That’s his kryptonite."
"Third," Psylocke added, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the looping trailer, "did you see the way she looked at him? That wasn’t ‘let’s hold hands.’ That was ‘I’m going to ruin you for every other woman alive.’"
MJ’s confidence visibly cracked. She started looking nervous.
"Face it, MJ," Jean said with a smirk. "You fumbled the jackpot. The moment that kitty cat struts in, your ‘Peter’ is gone."
"And you’ll be stuck in the cuck chair," Peni giggled, "watching him play ‘cat and mouse’ with Felicia all night long."
"Or better yet," Wanda added, a wicked glint in her eyes, "maybe he’ll finally realize a ‘good boy’ deserves a ‘bad girl’ who actually treats him right. And that Paul guy? Isn’t he dead?"
MJ froze.
Hela threw her head back and cackled. "Oh he’s very dead! His soul is currently in my realm… serving as Fenrir’s new chew toy!"
The entire room exploded into laughter again — louder, meaner, and completely merciless.
It was absolute chaos.
MJ’s face went pale. She looked like she was about to cry. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
She just sat there, humiliated, while the girls roared around her.
And then—
DING DONG!
Everyone turned toward the door, confused.
"Who's that?" Squirrel Girl whispered.
"I think we all know the answer~" Luna Snow sang with a mischievous grin.
Before anyone could respond, White Fox appeared out of nowhere, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
In stepped Felicia Hardy — Black Cat — moving with effortless, predatory confidence.
Her sleek black suit looked even better in person, the white fur lining her collar gleaming under the lights.
She stopped in the center of the room, hands planted on her hips, scanning everyone with a playful smirk.
"Hello, everyone~"
Sue Storm immediately stepped forward with a warm smile. "Felicia! Glad you made it. Welcome to Marvel Rivals! You're gonna love it here."
Felicia accepted the hug with a laugh. "Thanks, Sue. I've heard this place is wild — crazy heroes, bigger villains, non-stop action. Sounds perfect for me. Though I don't officially drop in until Friday, so I've got a few days to kill."
"Don't worry," Sue said, gesturing down the hallway. "There's plenty to do while you wait for your release. Hero tutorials, Domination tutorials, Practice Range, Convoy mode — a ton of stuff I'm sure you'll enjoy."
Felicia raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Domination, huh?"
Magik rolled her eyes. "It's not what you're thinking."
Black Cat sighed dramatically. "Too bad. I'm always up for a little domination."
Most of the girls burst into giggles.
"Oh, trust me," Angela smirked, "you'll be doing plenty of that on the battlefield."
Felicia gave Angela an appreciative once-over, taking in the towering, muscular Asgardian who looked like she could bench-press a tank and crush someone with her thighs.
She let out a low whistle.
"They weren't kidding when they said they brought everyone together. Loving the diversity."
Storm crossed her arms, looking less amused. "While I'm happy to have another woman joining our ranks, I must admit I'm disappointed that so many of her moves seem to be remakes of my husband's."
A few girls nodded in agreement.
"She's not wrong... that strange portal thing..."
"And all those copied abilities..."
Felicia just shrugged with a cocky grin. "Hey, if you can't keep up with the competition, that's a 'you' problem, not a 'me' problem."
She glanced around the group. "I'd love to keep chatting, but I've got some important business to handle. Quick question."
"Shoot."
Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Does anyone know where Spidey's room is?"
MJ's eyes went wide with panic.
The rest of the girls exchanged knowing, wicked looks.
"Of course! He's in—"
"SHUT UP!" MJ screamed, her voice cracking as she shot to her feet, trembling. "I'm NOT letting you tell this home-wrecking harlot where my— MMPH!"
Emma Frost's diamond-hard hand clamped firmly over MJ's mouth.
"MJ, darling," Emma purred with mock sweetness, "do us all a favor and shut up. You lost the right to gatekeep him the moment you chose Paul over Peter."
She turned back to Black Cat with a graceful smile. "He's in Room 302. Top floor."
"Thanks!" Felicia said with a flirty wink. She spun on her heel and started strutting down the hallway, her tail swishing teasingly behind her.
As she reached the corridor, she paused and glanced back at the stunned room — her gaze locking directly onto a fuming, red-faced MJ.
"By the way, MJ..."
MJ looked up, eyes wide and furious.
"Hope Paul was worth it~"
She blew a mocking kiss, then disappeared down the hall with a sway in her hips.
The room erupted into laughter once again.
MJ ripped Emma’s diamond-hard hand off her mouth. “FELICIA! GET BACK HE—”
“Freeze.”
MJ froze mid-scream, body locking up like a living doll, eyes wide with panic.
Emma had completely shut down her motor functions with a casual wave of telepathy.
“Sit.”
MJ’s body obeyed instantly, dropping back onto the couch like a puppet with cut strings.
Jean raised an eyebrow at Emma. “What did you just do?”
Emma shrugged elegantly. “Just gave her a little time-out. The adults need to talk.”
Hela leaned forward, genuinely impressed. “I must admit… you mutants and your telepathic tricks are rather fascinating.”
“Oh, it gets better,” Emma said with a wicked grin. “I’m also linking her mind directly to Felicia’s. She’s going to feel and see everything our favorite cat burglar does to her precious ‘Petey.’”
Sue and Wanda exchanged a glance.
“That’s… diabolical,” Sue muttered.
“And a little cruel,” Squirrel Girl added, wincing.
“I prefer to call it ‘karmic justice,’” Emma corrected smoothly. “After everything she put Spider-Man through, it’s about time she gets a front-row seat in the cuck chair.”
Meanwhile, down the hallway, Felicia strolled toward Room 302 with a confident sway, her hips and ass jiggling teasingly with every step.
She stopped at the door, raised a gloved hand, and knocked three times — slow, deliberate, playful.
The door swung open.
Peter Parker stood there in his Spider-Man suit, mask off, camera still in hand. His eyes widened in genuine surprise when he saw her.
“Felicia…?” Peter said, confusion clear in his voice. "What are you doing here? I mean… not that I’m complaining, but your character doesn’t drop until Friday."
Felicia clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head with a sultry smile. "I know. I just couldn’t stay away."
She dragged her gaze slowly up and down his body, licking her lips like she was already tasting him.
"And I figured I’d come give my favorite spider a proper welcome party."
Peter’s face flushed bright red. He let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ha… ha… Well, you know me. Always happy to see a friend."
Felicia stepped closer, pressing her body against his until her warm breath ghosted over his neck.
Her voice dropped into a low, velvet purr right against his ear.
"Oh, Petey… I don’t want to be just friends."
Peter’s breath hitched. "Felicia, I appreciate it, but MJ—"
"Is preoccupied," she cut him off smoothly, sliding a gloved hand up his chest. "And honestly? Do you really think she still deserves you after everything she put you through?"
The usual wave of guilt Peter felt whenever MJ’s name came up… never arrived.
Instead, a deep, simmering resentment he’d buried for years rose to the surface.
He really looked at Felicia now. She had always been there — wild, dangerous, unpredictable… and right now she was staring at him like he was the only man in the multiverse who mattered.
She was exciting. She was trouble.
And fuck, she felt good pressed against him.
"I know she’s been… a lot," he muttered, "but we shouldn’t stoop to her—"
"Stoop?" Felicia laughed softly, pushing him backward until his back hit the wall with a thud. "Baby, I’m not stooping. I’m rising."
She towered over him in those deadly stiletto heels — 7 feet of pure, predatory curves compared to his 5'10" frame.
Her body pinned him effortlessly, soft tits pressing against his face as her hips rolled forward, grinding lightly against the growing bulge in his suit.
"Besides…" she purred, her clawed fingers tracing slow circles over the hard muscles of his chest and abs, "you’ve been such a good boy lately, Petey."
Her lips hovered inches from his, voice dripping with filthy promise.
"Saving the multiverse… fighting gods… putting up with all your ex’s bullshit…"
She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his mouth.
"Good boys deserve big, wet rewards, don’t they?"
Peter’s cock throbbed hard against the tight fabric of his suit, straining painfully as blood rushed south. His breathing grew ragged.
Felicia peeled her mask off slowly, letting her beautiful green eyes show.
They burned into his — equal parts genuine affection and raw, hungry lust.
Peter tried to look away, clinging to the last shreds of his composure. "Felicia… I…"
She grabbed his chin firmly with two fingers and forced his gaze back to hers.
"Whose good boy are you?"
That did it.
Every ounce of restraint, every lingering thought of responsibility, every shitty memory of MJ — it all shattered.
Only one clear, burning thought remained in Peter’s mind:
‘Fuck MJ.’
"I'm your good boy," Peter whispered, voice low and husky, eyes dark with need even as he submitted completely.
Felicia’s smirk widened into a delighted, predatory grin. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear~ Good answer, baby."
Peter’s lips curled into a cocky, lust-drunk smile.
"And I’ll prove it right now!"
Without hesitation, he scooped Felicia up into his arms like a groom carrying his bride — except his bride was a towering 7-foot cat burglar whose skintight suit left almost nothing to the imagination.
His face screamed pure confidence: I’m getting laid tonight.
With a powerful kick, he slammed the door shut behind them.
Felicia let out a thrilled, schoolgirl squeal of delight, kicking her long legs playfully in the air. "ATTA BOY, PETEY! That’s my good boy~!"
Peter carried her deeper into the room, chest puffed with pride even while completely surrendering to her energy.
He was done holding back.
The door locked with a heavy click, sealing them inside.
Meanwhile, down on the bottom floor, MJ remained frozen stiff on the couch like a forgotten doll.
Emma’s telepathic link was working perfectly.
She could see everything. She could hear everything.
Every eager breath. Every filthy word. Every sound of fabric hitting the floor.
There was nothing she could do.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even chew Peter out like she always did.
All she could do was watch helplessly as suits were ripped off in a frantic blur and rhythmic, wet, enthusiastic noises started echoing from upstairs.
A single tear rolled down MJ’s cheek.
Hope Paul was worth it…
Because she was never getting her “Petey” back.