Enchantress

Once the Enchantress had been so desired that every part of her body had had its own set of worshippers. Her derriere alone was so sought after, that the Tales of Asgard themselves proclaimed that she'd put the Ass in Asgard. Whether this was true or not now no longer mattered to her. Not since Ragnarok anyway.

Amora had been off-panel while it happened; perhaps that's how she'd survived. Now this beautiful siren who usually had men falling at her feet, ready to service her every need, was so very alone.

She looked out over the devastation that lay before her. Asgard was no more, and beyond that, over the rainbow bridge that was no longer visible, there was nothing but nothingness, no stars in the sky, no light to be seen, An endless cold darkness that threatened to consume her.

She wondered whether there was anyone left but her. Possibly the only person who could have survived was Galactus, still out there, roaming around, looking for a way to sate his vast appetite. As she thought of that giant man with his giant purple helmet, she realized she needed to sate her appetite too. It was one way to keep herself warm.

She rolled down her green circled leggings, and moved her fingers, preparing to enchant herself. She'd never needed to pleasure herself before, but now there was no other way. She needed to get her Ragnaroks off, and she needed it now.