Racists, misogynists, homophobes, biphobes, transphobes and any other haters DNI. Minors, please be aware that some of my posts may be mature for you and as you are responsible for the media you consume, please be careful.
Hi, I'm Lily. Welcome to my blog. I hope you find something you like.
Lily's Masterlist-III
- Mission: Melt the Ice ll Bucky Barnes (4.5k words)
- Victory Red ll Steve & Peggy (1.3k words)
- Baby, It's Cold Outside ll Steve Rogers (700 words)
- My Immortal ll Hela Odindotir
- Paradise ll Sarah x Bucky microfic
- Almost Lover ll Sam Wilson
- Armed and Dangerous ll Sam & Bucky
- Too Sweet ll Lois Lane
- Face the Horizon ll Natasha Romanoff
- The Spice of Life ll Wanda Maximoff
- Emotional Contingency ll Sam Wilson
- Honor Among Thieves ll Loki Laufeyson
- A Seduction in Three Mistakes ll Loki Laufeyson
- Sweater Weather ll Loki Laufeyson
- Brooklyn Winter ll Bucky Barnes
Main Masterlist
if you have requests to make, would like to be added to my taglist or just wanna talk, my dms, asks & submissions box are always open 💜
Your hands tremble as you stand in the crowd. Fear lies heavy in the air like a burden weighing down the hopes of a silent revolution you’ve heard whispers about. They are all trembling, yet your palms are the only ones bleeding.
Silent sobs escape your neighbors, friends, rivals yet you feel all the same for them now. How could your sympathies ever be divided when the only person you want to project all your hatred on is the woman speaking to you.
“You were all taught to play heroes, fight for Asgard.” A bitter laugh escapes Hela’s pale lips. They twist into an evil mock-pitiful smile. “See where that got you puny people?”
They bow their heads, dip them low, the agony of this humiliation seeping deep into their bones. She lets her eyes wander over the trembling creatures -for her they are nothing more.
Then her dark rimmed eyes land on you. Her smile falters for a millisecond then reappears even crazier and more amused than before this time unleashing something alive in her black void-like pupils. You do not dip your head or avert your gaze. The lack of fear tickles something inside her and she is not quite sure if she likes the feeling or not.
But she continues speaking. Speaking in a way that makes your stomach flip with loathing and your fists clench even tighter. Blood is staining your long white sleeves where your fingernails split the delicate skin of your palms.
You will not break. And you will not meet her eyes like an equal. So you just stare ahead.
“Someone decided to play hero anyways and took… the sword. But I am sure you all already knew that didn’t you? Waiting to be saved so desperate and hopeful?” Under the teasing tone in her voice her growing impatience begins to show. This terrorization is only a placeholder for when the real bloodbath of the worlds would begin. And someone just took the key from her. So impatience was more dangerous than bloodlust now.
Annoying little creatures.
She wants to break them all, slash their scared little faces but it would not bring her much closer to a win… she needs a weak soul to speak up. She will make them speak up.
She looks for your reaction, but you just stare straight ahead. You are trembling too. Trembling of rage and pride and all she wants is for you to look at her. She is sure she could loosen that clenched throat into obedient sobs-
“Well? Nobody knows?”
No she does not just want anyone to speak up. Does not want someone to break. She wants you.
“What a shame.” She comes forward, taking long graceful steps while pretending to observe the crowd. And you still do not look at her.
No respect, that girl.
Well then you leave her no choice… she must make you.
“You.“ Her sharp voice cuts through the air like a death sentence.
The crowd moves backwards hurriedly, and a hand pulls you with them. Your older sister Runa pushes her body protectively in front of you, her eyes widening in shock with something she saw. The outstretched pale hand of the goddess of death pointed suspiciously in her sisters direction. In yours.
In the movement, your rage, their retreat, you did not even have time to notice. But everyone else did. And now you stand panting heavily, not moving from your spot, no matter how much the others keep dragging at you. You may not have caught Hela’s eyes when she pointed you out, but you still feel them on you. It makes another shiver run down your spine.
Skurge, once resident of Asgard, now traitor to the people and the goddesses new executioner, follows after. He reaches for you, but when Runa does not move aside, he roughly grabs your sisters wrist and yanks her away. A soft yelp and a drowned-out protest escapes her mouth as she hits the ground with a painful sound.
Thud-CRrAcK!
Her kneecaps hit the gravelly ground, and the sound finally snaps you out of your uncertainty about what to do. You lunge forward out of instinct and throw a punch that just-so misses Skurges nose you originally intended to break. But you strike the cheek and it seems like the ring on your finger did it’s work to split the skin. Thank you, Aunt Abela.
Hela watches the scene in front of her eyes unfold with unexpected rapidity. She did not know if to root for you or her executioner. In the end she would have her will any way -of course nothing defeated death- but right now… It intrigues her as much as it almost concerns her.
The young woman (you) draws back immediately after admiring the punch she landed, hissing softly and clutching her own, weirdly very blood smeared hand. The rims of her impractical sleeves were also a bit stained. But Skurges wound only began to bleed now that he spun back around and lifted his hand to his cheek in disbelief. How was that possible? Hela’s stomach did a weird thing. Who hurt this girl? Who beside herself dared to-
Skurge dared. He took a step and this time you were not prepared. Hela watches as he bears his teeth at you and grabs your shoulders, leaving you no chance to check on your sister on the ground behind him. God why had you taken the time to be in pain? Who cares about your hand anyways, now the punch was utterly useless.
“Runa! Let me go, you traitor-“ He pulls your head back by your hair and you hear a whimper, that you first think is your own and then realize it came in many voices of the people behind you. Nobody dared to move, nobody dared to go help Runa, go help you. You would not advise them to do so anyways as long as they keep their mouths shut.
Hela laughs. Your blood is boiling.
They will kill someone. They will eventually kill everyone. That event will not be prevented no matter if someone tells her where the sword is now, or not. So why not have it be you? It is better than destroying the whole rescue plan. At least Heimdall will have more time rescuing the kids then until Hela’s bloodthirst boils up again.
You let yourself be dragged to the front. Skurge drops (more like throws) you to the tall woman’s feet, but you are smart enough to not suffer the same fate as your sister and let yourself fall even before he has a chance to put impact into it. And you manage to land so your kneecaps don’t get shattered.
It makes them scoff. It makes you smile.
Still you did not manage to protect your palms and gravel, and dirt digs into the dents your fingernails had left behind. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink them away.
Hela sees you tremble and she is almost satisfied. But when you finally look up and your glistening eyes meet hers her smile freezes. Your gaze hard like steel pierces through her and it slowly dawns on her you are not scared at all. You are angry.
The look in her eyes throws you off. You expected to see a hollow inside, no soul just pure coldhearted evil. But there is a depth to her pupils, a gleam in her irises. She looks… alive with emotion you cannot quite detect. All of her face around is hard and ruthless but the middle just wont match. Those two shiny pearls seeping into your soul bleeding with your rage and transforming it into curiosity. It doesn’t dim the hatred but merely adds to the chaos inside you.
“Executioner?”
She does not look away, and your throat does not unclench. But the trembling has stopped, replaced by shallow deep breaths making your chest rise and fall silently. You have the unignorable urge to lift to your feet and look at her as an equal, not kneeling on the ground, but the heavy metal of the axe swinging over your neck keeps you locked in place. And you would not make it so easy for her as to kill yourself. It would only result in her picking another victim to spread fear and respect. Sure fear she would get easily… but respect? You knew the Asgardians to be too proud for that. They would not be so stupid as to-
“Stop!”
All the life drains out of your face and it is like you lost the staring contest because Hela’s eyes immediately fly away over to your sister. No.
No No NO!
You use the moment of distraction to roll away from under the deadly weapon and jump to your feet spinning around.
“Runa NO!” The determination in your eyes is wild and the helplessness in your sisters eyes fades a bit at the sight of you not on the verge of dying anymore. But at that exact moment something cuts you off. A cold blade presses against your back and even colder fingers wrap around your mouth from behind. Your eyes widen and you see the reflection of immediate terror reappearing in Runa’s eyes.
“Stay still, or your sister dies.” The voice is low and smooth right next to your ear, and you are not quite sure who she is talking to. But no matter what, it is working too well.
In a funny situation you could have said She is standing right behind me, isn’t she? like in those videographies, Runa and you used to bribe Heimdall for as little girls. He always got them from Midgard for you, followed by a speech about having to bring them back so the order of the nine worlds would not be destroyed. Mighty Odin, who would believe a guy like that had a soft spot for kids?
But this is not a funny situation. You can see in your sisters eyes, she would give up a whole civilization hid in the mountains of Asgard just so the inevitable death of you would be moved back to a later time. You could not let that happen and the icy cold of those hands around you reminded you of it even more so. You had to do something. Anything. But the grip on your mouth locks you in place. You struggle against it, shift in her grip and press your back into the blade on your spine only to be hit with surprise when she pulls it back a bit. A low chuckle sounds at your ear.
“Do you want to say something?” You don’t stop your movements. Migthy Odin, are you thankful for Runas being shock frozen by the situation right now.
“Speak up darling!” She laughs at her own ironic cruelty, but you won’t give her the satisfaction of reacting. You just dart out your tongue and drag it over the inside of her hand as best as you can. But to your disappointment this only makes her laugh more. But you could have sworn you heard her breath hitch next to your ear the moment you did it.
You just try your best to try and meet the eyes of the people gathered in front of you, but it is impossible considering the goddesses are right next to yours. Fuck-
The cold metal presses into your spine again now and she releases your jaw slightly tilting your face over to her.
“Tell me what you want silently or-” Her head tilts over to gesture at your sister. She knows she has you in her claws still it ignites something you don’t quite recognize inside you with her so close. It can’t be fear, right? No…
“She does not know. Nobody knows. Heimdall only told me where they are.” She raises an eyebrow. Of course she does not believe you.
“And you expect me to believe that?”
You swallow and watch her gaze follow the movement of your throat like she’d like to slit it or- Fuck. You needed to think of something fast.
“No I do not.”
“You do not?”
“I do not. But you kind of have to, do you not?” She raises an eyebrow and you almost smirk. In fact you do smirk. And it feels way too good being the one in control. Now you watch her throat as she swallows and forces out a laugh that is more insecure than probably intended.
“I have to, you say? And why is that?” She still looks amused like she has the power. You look forward to that draining out of her face in a matter of seconds. Oh you will feast upon the sight.
“You could kill me but then I would get what I wanted. You could kill her or anyone else, but you would know nothing more.”
“Ha, that’s cute. You think you are smart?”
Time to drop the bomb. Fuck it!
“No but I am Heimdall’s student.” You close your eyes and when they open again your Irises have changed. They are his. You have connected and she knows it. He knows it. And he has been warned.
“Y/N NO!” This time it is your sister screaming but she is too late.
“Oh-“ Hela’s face twists and then you are both gone.
This is only the start and there will be more chapters if you want them so pls give feedback if you liked it, and also consider checking me out on Ao3. Enjoy!
(Still I'm pretty busy rn with fics and I seem so be writing everything but what I planned to...)
Even with your eyes closed, pain a distracting veil, you know she has walked into the room the moment the healer’s hands tense, a sharp breath taken in as they finish wrapping a bandage around your torso. As immediate as their attention had started they are dismissed, head down as they make way for their queen.
You couldn’t call the way she grips your chin rough but it is far from tender, it’s more a tug at certainty, at giving herself the answer she wanted as to how you were doing. Her eyes meet yours only briefly before trailing down your bruises, scratches and the now existing wrap to cover the injury on your ribs. She says nothing but seems satisfied, both with seeing you safe and with the work that had been done on you afterwards.
“Such delightful ruthlessness, the way you fought made them hesitant. They stood no chance.”
It was as much praise as it was thanking you for giving yourself to her cause yet again, ever so devoted. She makes you tilt your head up leaning in to kiss you and you feel her pride clear and deep as she does. A kiss that says how she loves you.
One of her many ways of saying so without words, something that had always been easy to tell from the moment she started seeing you as someone worthy. And you feel her preference so vividly in the way she treats you, in the way she prioritizes anything that might involve you over the rest. The world could be beneath her, but you? She would never have you be anywhere but at her side.
Warnings: Language, mentions of drowning and murder?
A/N: Sometimes I enjoy the random ideas my partner and I spawn. Also... this makes me miss my pirates.
-X-
The Stormbreaker—the ship your captain, the dreaded pirate James Barnes had acquired from some blond drunk months ago—swayed, stagnant, in the waters of the Atlantic, masts cracked like broken bones and the canvas of the sails shredded into ribbons. Three days since the cannons of the Royal frigate, the Valkyrie, had torn through the ship.
You stood at the larboard rail, knuckles blanched pale on the wood as you stared out into the still waters. The crew was sleeping in shifts, but sleep had evaded you tonight. If you were being honest, you hadn’t slept much at all the past few nights, haunted by the song deep in the sea.
It was old. Alluring.
Too alluring.
A woman’s voice singing in a tongue you shouldn’t understand but did—which scared you more than the words themselves. And they seemed to be for you and you alone.
“Come closer, little wolf. The water remembers your taste…”
You’d ignored it the first night, head twitching but mostly unbothered. Hadn’t answered on the second. Fought it on the third, even as you found yourself leaning out enough that Steve gripped your shoulder, yanking you back onto the boat with a muttered warning about sirens and their magical songs.
But tonight, the song rose louder—closer—as the water beneath the hull glowed green, the light eerie but… inviting.
Inviting? No, that wasn’t right… was it? The seas don’t glow… but maybe…
Your palms were sweating against the rail, body pitching too far forward as you chased the song.
Gods, why did she sound so beautiful?
You hated yourself for the fact you wanted to hear it again. To hear her voice sinking into your mind.
The moon slipped behind a dark cloud, and the sea went blacker than coal. For a heartbeat, only the creak of the Stormbreaker’s timbers and the distant clank of a hammer belowdecks filled the void. Then the song returned, not from the depths but from beside the hull.
The siren rose until her shoulders cleared the water, black hair plastered to her skin, the rest of her hidden beneath the swell.
“You lean like a hound on a scent, pirate.”
Her words were just as devastating to your mind as her song had been and you nearly pitched forward, over the railing, but a strong hand on your shoulder yanked you backwards.
“Whatever’s down there,” he muttered, “it wants you alive enough to toy with. That’s worse than dead.”
His eyes glanced to where she had been moments ago, but now there was only an uncomfortable stillness, like you both knew she was still listening, even if you couldn’t see her.
“…can you hear when she speaks, Steve? Or is she haunting me?” you asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
Steve’s jaw worked and glanced toward the black water, then back to you, brows furrowing.
“I hear the song,” he said carefully, words thoughtful as he kept a hand on your shoulder. “Same as the others. Low, like a woman humming through a keyhole. But the words…”
He shook his head.
“Those are yours alone. The others haven’t reacted quite as… viscerally as you. I think she’s singling you out,” he admitted, his lips pulling into a sad, apologetic smile. “Dusk is still hours away. I can tie you to the bow and keep an eye on you until sunrise.”
“…something tells me, even if you lock me up… she’ll drag me down to her this night,” you whispered, almost resigned to your fate, eyes tracking the water as if waiting for her to breach the surface and drag you into the sea.
“Then we make sure we give her a hell of fight,” he promised.
Steve called for Bucky, but your mind wasn’t on your captain or his first mate. No, it was entirely on the subtle green glow beginning to form beneath the water again. Hands guided you down, until your back was pressed to the nearest mast, but your eyes had already started to glaze over, fixated on the sea, charmed by the music rising from the depths once more.
Bucky’s shadow fell over you as he knelt. “Look at me.”
Your eyes flickered up to his the moment he broke your line of sight, your breathing shallow as the glaze faded.
“She’s in the water, not in your skull,” he said. “Remember that. Remember the Stormbreaker. Remember the crew that’s bled with you.”
The song paused as your eyes left the lapping waves.
In the sudden hush, you heard your own heartbeat, too loud and far too fast in your own ears. Then the voice returned, softer than breath, sliding through your ears like a bard’s lute.
You can fight the tide, little wolf. Or you can learn how sweetly it carries you.
The few crew members awake milled about the deck, keeping wary gazes on you but it never registered, your mind trapped entirely on the siren below.
It could’ve been hours or mere seconds, when the ship…
Tipped.
Not enough to capsize it, but enough for every man on the deck to suddenly grip the hilt of their swords.
“What the fuck was that?!” Bucky demanded from the helm, his eyes scanning the dark waters as if he could find the enemy.
You knew, in your blood, exactly what it was. “…she’s here.”
A pale hand crested the gunwale, then another, far too humanlike for the creature that you knew she was. She hauled herself up in one fluid motion, water streaming from her torso. The tail flashed once before it split, flesh and scale knitting into long, bare legs that settled on the deck with an eerie comfortableness, as if she often perused the world like that. She stood naked but for the glint of old gold at her throat and the wet fall of her hair in the moonlight, green eyes fixed on you like a promise.
“I’ve waited three nights. I will not wait another, little wolf,” she murmured, extending her hand. “Come to me.”
You tried to fight it—really, you did—but the sight of her, ink black hair and a smile that promised nothing but trouble…
You surged up, hand finding hers. You heard Steve’s shout and Bucky’s flintlock click, but there was no time for him to fire as the deck fell away. She pulled. Not hard, because you… you weren’t resisting, not anymore. Your boots scraped the planks once, twice, then left them entirely. The night air rushed past your ears, replaced by the sudden, shocking embrace of the sea.
Water closed over your head with a soundless rumble, the pressure unbearable as soon as you realized what you’d done. Salt stung your eyes and the cold punched the air from your lungs. For one heartbeat, panic flared as you instinctively opened your mouth to breathe.
Then her mouth found yours. It wasn’t gentle. It was teeth and tongue and the taste of iron and brine, her lips sealing over yours as if she meant to devour the last of your humanity. Something passed between you, a green-black pulse that flooded your chest and spread outward until every vein was alight. Then your vision cleared.
The pressure vanished.
Hela drew back an inch, eyes luminous in the dark.
“Mine,” she said, the single word sealing something permanently between you. “And the sea will never let you forget it now, little wolf.”
Pairing: Hela x Fem!Reader
Tone: Darkly romantic, possessive, sapphic tension, goddess-level jealousy, emotional undercurrent of longing and awe
Warnings: 🔞 Alcohol use, implied intoxication, jealousy, possessive behavior, emotional intensity, strong language, suggestive imagery, mutual pining, dominant energy from Hela but with protective undertones
You’d never meant to catch her eye that night. You’d shown up to the party nervous and overdressed, clutching your drink like a lifeline — but somewhere between the second song and the third shot, something inside you loosened. The lights blurred, the air hummed, and suddenly you weren’t the quiet one anymore. And from across the room, Hela watched it happen — her shy mortal shedding fear like a second skin, moving with the kind of confidence that made even gods go still. She’d seen mortals lose control before, but never you. Never like this. And the look in her eyes when you finally met her gaze said it all: she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to worship you… or remind you who you belonged to.
The mansion pulsed with the kind of chaos that only Halloween could bring — laughter like thunder, bass heavy enough to rattle the chandeliers, and a haze of perfume and alcohol that blurred the edges of everything. Masks hid faces, but not intentions. People swayed and pressed close, shimmering in fake blood and glitter, their shadows writhing along the walls.
Hela stood at the edge of it all, dark and motionless in her sleek costume — leather, sharp lines, the kind of elegance that made everyone else look like they were playing dress-up. A goddess among mortals. She’d been dragged here by you, of course. You, her quiet companion. You, who’d apologized three times for your costume being “too plain.” You, who’d clung to her arm when you first walked in, whispering that you didn’t really belong at parties like this.
So when she turned to look for you later — after letting herself be cornered by some tedious small talk — she nearly didn’t recognize what she found.
The crowd had shifted, creating a ring of light and movement near the center of the room. And there you were — glowing under the amber strobes, laughing, fearless, utterly transformed. Gone was the shy, soft-spoken mortal she’d taken under her wing. In her place stood someone untamed, alive, intoxicatingly free.
Your hair clung to your cheeks, your eyes wild with joy and a hint of rebellion. Every movement you made rippled through the crowd like a current. The music hit a crescendo and you rode it effortlessly, spinning, arching, commanding.
Hela froze. For a long moment, she forgot to breathe.
It wasn’t jealousy that struck first — it was awe. Raw, unfiltered awe at the power you suddenly radiated. Then came the heat. The sharp, instinctive kind of hunger that came with seeing something you thought you knew bare its teeth and reveal an entirely different shape.
Mortals around her were cheering, shouting your name, their voices blurring into one long hum. Hela’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening around her glass until it cracked, dark wine bleeding between her fingers. She didn’t even flinch.
“...Oh,” she murmured, almost to herself, voice low and dangerous. “So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”
Someone beside her laughed, muttering something about “your friend really coming out of her shell,” and she turned that slow, lethal smile on them — the kind that made even immortals step back.
But when her gaze returned to you, the smile faltered.
Because beneath the shock, the hunger, and the possessive edge curling at the edges of her mind, there was something else she hadn’t expected — pride. You looked radiant. Alive. Unafraid.
Pairing: Hela x Female!Reader
Tone: Dark romance, dark and dep
Warnings: 🔞 Jealousy, possessiveness.
~~~
The car ride back was heavy with silence. The city lights slid across the windows in streaks of gold and blue, catching the sharp line of Hela’s jaw as she stared out into the night. Her hand rested loosely on her knee — still, poised — but the power beneath her calm was palpable, like a storm barely leashed. You didn’t dare break the silence, not when her expression was carved from restraint and something you couldn’t quite name. When the driver stopped in front of the hotel, she was out of the car before you could say a word, her gown whispering against the pavement as she walked inside without looking back. You followed, heart pounding, unsure if she was furious, possessive, or both. But when you stepped into the suite and saw her standing there — crown gone, hair unbound, the glow of the city reflecting in her eyes — you realized this wasn’t anger. This was something far more dangerous: Hela, stripped of her armor, uncertain what to do with the fact that she cared.
~~~
The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and too many smiles. Laughter rippled through the air like the clinking of glass; people shimmered in velvet and jewels, desperate to be noticed. You’d lost count of how many times someone had complimented your dress or leaned too close to be polite. You’d handled it with charm, as always — until the hairs at the back of your neck stood up.
She was watching you.
Across the room, framed by candlelight and envy, Hela stood as though she owned the place — which, by the way the crowd bent around her, she might as well have. Her gown was a deep green that caught the light like wet leaves after rain, her shoulders bare, her crown of black thorns resting easy against hair that looked spun from shadow. She didn’t need to move to command attention. The sheer force of her presence made every conversation falter.
But her eyes were fixed on you.
You tried to look away, tried to keep smiling at the man who was talking to you, but it was like being caught in gravity. The smirk on Hela’s mouth didn’t reach her eyes; the longer you held her gaze, the more it felt like the temperature in the room was quietly dropping.
And then she began to move.
People stepped aside without realizing why. The music softened; even the orchestra seemed to sense her displeasure. You felt your breath hitch as she drew near — every click of her heels deliberate, echoing against marble. By the time she reached you, every other sound in the room had dimmed.
Hela stopped close enough for you to smell her perfume — something dark and floral, faintly metallic, like roses caught in a storm. Her gloved fingers brushed your bare shoulder. The touch was light, but it carried the unmistakable promise of power.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked. Her tone was smooth, almost pleasant, but there was iron underneath.
The man beside you stammered, bowing slightly. “Queen Hela— I was just—”
“Leaving,” she said, her smile too sharp to be kind.
He vanished into the crowd before she even finished the word. You turned toward her, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t have to scare him off.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. “He was staring as though you were a prize to be won. I don’t care for games I’m not playing.”
The words weren’t loud, but they carried. You could feel the curious glances of those nearby. Her hand slid down from your shoulder to your waist, a slow, deliberate motion that sent whispers through the room.
“Hela,” you murmured, aware of every eye on you, “people are watching.”
“Good,” she said. Her breath brushed your ear, low enough for only you to hear. “Let them.”
The grip at your waist tightened for a heartbeat — not painful, but possessive, grounding. Her other hand came up to tilt your chin toward her. The faintest smile curved her mouth as she studied you.
“Beautiful,” she said simply. The single word was a declaration, not a compliment.
You could have protested, could have told her she was being dramatic, but you didn’t. Something about her honesty — raw and unguarded under all that arrogance — left you silent.
The tension broke when she straightened, her voice resuming its usual smooth cadence. “Come,” she said, offering her hand. “Dance with me, before I turn another mortal to stone with envy.”
You placed your hand in hers. The room parted again, as if on instinct. The orchestra picked up its pace, but the only rhythm you noticed was the pulse at your wrist and the steady press of her palm against your back.
When she leaned down, her lips brushed your temple, a whisper wrapped in warmth. “You should know by now,” she murmured, “I don’t share what’s mine.”
You smiled up at her, equal parts flustered and fond. “And here I thought gods didn’t get jealous.”
Her laughter was soft, dangerously quiet. “Only of those foolish enough to forget I’m one.”
And then she guided you through the steps of the dance — slow, deliberate, claiming the floor and the stares of everyone around. The music swelled again, but the sound blurred into nothing. It was only her hand, her gaze, and the unspoken promise that when the night was over, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind whose name the stars belonged to.
The suite was quiet when you returned. The noise of the gala was a distant echo now, replaced by the soft hum of the city below and the faint hiss of rain against the tall windows. You’d barely had time to set down your glass before Hela followed, closing the door with a sound too final to ignore.
Her crown was gone, her hair loose around her shoulders, shadows still clinging to her like a cloak. The firelight caught in her eyes, softening their sharpness just enough that you could almost forget how many feared her. Almost.
You crossed your arms and leaned back against the table, watching her. “So,” you said lightly, “was the dramatic display really necessary?”
Hela didn’t answer at first. She moved instead — slow, deliberate — toward the window, her fingers brushing the curtain aside so she could look out at the city lights. The reflection of her face in the glass looked almost wistful.
“Necessary?” she echoed finally, her tone thoughtful. “Perhaps not. But instinct seldom asks for permission.”
You sighed, half amused, half exasperated. “Instinct, huh? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
That earned you a faint smile — just a twitch of her lips. “You mock me, little one, but tell me… did anyone else dare approach you afterward?”
You rolled your eyes. “You made sure of that.”
“I did.”
The words were simple, but there was weight beneath them — not pride, not regret, something deeper. When she turned to face you, her posture was still regal, but her expression had softened.
“You draw attention without meaning to,” she said, her voice quieter now. “It is… infuriating.”
You tilted your head, curious. “Infuriating?”
“Because mortals look at you and see beauty. They see warmth. They see something I could destroy but never possess.” She paused, as if realizing the edge in her own words, then added, more softly, “And yet I do possess it — for now. That truth unsettles me more than I care to admit.”
You took a slow step toward her. “Hela—”
But she lifted a hand, silencing you with a look that wasn’t cruel, just tired. “Do not mistake this for weakness,” she said. “I am not… accustomed to wanting someone to stay.”
You reached her then, close enough to see the faint tremor in her breath, the human trace beneath all that power. “You don’t have to get used to it,” you murmured. “Just don’t run from it.”
Something flickered in her gaze — not anger, not amusement, but something that looked dangerously close to tenderness. She raised her hand to your cheek, her touch cool and deliberate.
“I could raze kingdoms for less than what you make me feel,” she said, her voice low. “And yet, here I am — asking myself if you’ll still be here in the morning.”
You smiled, leaning into her touch. “I will. Unless you throw another party scene and scare half the city again.”
That pulled a laugh from her — quiet, breathless, disbelieving. She shook her head slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing.
“Careful,” she warned, stepping closer, her breath ghosting against your temple. “Keep speaking like that, and I might start thinking I deserve you.”
You met her gaze, unflinching. “Maybe you do.”
Hela exhaled slowly, the edge of a smile returning. Then she leaned in, her forehead resting lightly against yours, her voice no louder than a whisper.
“Then let me try to.”
Outside, thunder rolled distantly, and for the first time in a long while, Hela didn’t look like a goddess who needed to prove anything. She just looked like someone learning, slowly, what it meant to stay.
warning(s): |minors and men dni| nipple play (r!receiving); fingering (r!receiving); hela is a soft menace; it's been a while writing wise so i apologize; a short fic
plot: hela is horny and you are there wearing a pj tank top without a bra.
Shivering, you walked into the bedroom, your bare feet cold against the tile floor. The Royal Suite was the epitome of comfort, except when it wasn't. The room easily got cold, making you even more grateful for the collection of furs and blankets your wife keeps on the bed. Hela sat in said bed, patiently waiting for you to return from getting water, something she had grumbled about, not wanting to give up cuddling with you. Her eyes shot up to watch you walk towards the bed, glued to your chest. Confused, you looked down, your face flushing when you saw what she was focused on.
Your nipples were straining against the fabric of your pajama shirt, the light fabric rubbing against your senstives nubs. Biting your lip, you looked through your eyelashes to look at Hela as you brought your fingers up to tweak at the buds. Her gaze sharpened and she beckoned you to the bed with a long, strong finger. Slowly, in a seductive manner, you walked to the bed, crawling onto the bed. Hela lunged out to grab you, using her strength to pull you onto her lap, laughing as she felt the growing wetspot on your pajama shorts. She leaned forward, adjusting the two of you so her mouth hovered over one of your covered tits. Her warm breath made shivers go down your spine in anticipation. Her green eyes looked up to meet yours, a smirk twisting on her lips.
"Do you want something, my darling?" Her tone was teasing but you heard the hint of desperation in her words, she wanted this just as much as you. You felt no need to play hard to get, nodding frantically as you obediantly clasped your hands behind your back, something Hela nodded in approval for.
"Please baby, I need your mouth. Please." Your voice sounded like a bratty whine but it was music to Hela's ears, a sound that gave her the green light. In a second, her mouth was on your nipple, the sudden warmth making your back arch as you tried to get more of your tit inside Hela's heavenly mouth. She chuckled, the vibration causing a small moan to rip from your lips. She extended her tongue, flicking the bud through your top as her other hand twisted the other nipple, enjoying how you both leaned in and away from her touch, already looking so wrecked.
Suddenly, her mouth and her hand were gone, a whimper spilling from you as you bucked your hips in disapproval. Hela merely smiled, reaching behind you to lightly grasp your wrists as she raised your arms into the air. She grabbed the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head. She didn't give you a second to adjust to your breasts being exposed to the cool air before her mouth was once again on your tit, licking and sucking. Instead of playing with the other bud, her hand that wasn't holding onto your waist snuck under your pajama shorts, two fingers rubbing between your folds before hovering over your clit. Her mouth paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. You were confused until her fingers started rubbing tight circles over your clit and her mouth suctioned over your nipple, her tongue flicking the bud through the tunnel of warmth. Your vision tunneled as the two most sensitive parts of your body were played with so perfectly. Your hips bucked against her fingers as she moved her hand on your waist to take the place of the fingers rubbing your clit as you felt two long fingers slip inside your dripping core. Your moan echoed through the walls, ringing like holy music in Hela's ears. She switched over to the nipple that had been abandoned, the way you arched against her made her lips curl into a smile.
It was becoming too much. You were only staying on Hela's lap due to your thighs tightening around hers, your arms still behind your back as both of Hela's hands played with your pussy. Her mouth attacked your breasts and your nipples, ripping moan after moan from your mouth. She leaned away to examine her work, enjoying how swollen and pigmented your tits looked.
"Tempting little minx." She growled before returning to one of her happy places. The other being between your thighs, which she was hopeful to visit this night as well. You cried out as she crooked her fingers against your g-spot, rubbing tantalizingly as her other hand continued to play with your clit, tapping it, she enjoyed how your hips jerked.
"H-Hela, I'm so close," you stuttered out, your vision going blurry as the coil in your stomach tightened and threatened to break. Hela, in response, somehow pulled you closer, her mouth sucking furiously against your tit, tongue laving the swollen nub as she pistoned her fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot like it was a bullseye. The fingers on your clit seperated your folds, her middle finger now solely rubbing the nerve.
Your vision went white as something animalistic ripped from your throat, hips shaking and chest heaving. You felt Hela's hands leave your core to settle on your hips as her mouth, albeit reluctantly, left your breasts, allowing you to collapse against her, resting your head against her shoulder. After a few moments of catching your breath, you laughed weakly.
"I should wear these pajamas more often."
a/n: okay this lowkey sucked but i've had it in my drafts for a hot second and i liked writing it in the momemt (at 3am). thank you for reading! i have better fics in the works dw, requests are open and appreciated! love you lovelies!
