tags¬es: gn!reader, fluff, kisses *clearly*, touches. no proofread.
enjoy!
KRATOS likes to kiss your abdomen although he is a man who is fond of every part of your body. he doesn’t know why he loves there so much to put lots of kisses but at the end of the day, he is amused by how you put his head on your abdomen, caressing his back while he is sitting on the floor. then, his hot breath hit your abdomen and when he sees your flushed face, he thinks it is better to show his love through the kisses he put on your bare abdomen.
THOR is a hand kisser lover because he tends to show the love he has for you with a gentle way contrary to his massive physical look. he is for sure so strong but when he is with you, he just becomes so naive and delicate towards you and he doesn’t mean to harm you with his strength in any way. so, he prefers to kiss you gentle and on hands in order to show you how you are being the most important thing in his life. he puts many kisses on your hands, fingers and palms.
BALDUR likes to kiss, mostly, your lips even if he can’t feel it. not feeling your body’s warmth under his skin is something he carves for so long but he can’t help it since it is a curse for him. however, he finds you as a cure because you make him want to kiss you so much even though there is no such feeling except those he feels on his chest. it is not something he faces before and he loves to have it, so, he chooses your lips to show his affection of you.
TYR is a gentle lover who wants you to feel like you are the most magnificent thing on entire realms he can across to. therefore, he loves to kiss everywhere of your body but if he has to chose a favorite one, he will pick your shoulders because he likes to kneel down to your level and put some kisses on your left and right shoulders while you are working on something. he thinks he helps you to get rid of the exhausting works and gives some relaxation. he is a thoughtful lover.
FREYA is a lip kisser because even though she tries to deny it, she likes to show her dominance side through the kisses you two share. however, she likes to be dominanted by you with your rough but lovely ones as well. she likes how her and your emotions flows within these rough but also gentle kisses. and she even likes to bite your lips from time to time with a mischievous smirk on her face.
FREYR is a man of love, affection and friendship. he is a god who enjoys seeing his lover being so loved by him. therefore, he doesn’t try to hide any of his emotions even though he can be shy from time to time except intimate moments. he is likely to have your all face as favorite kiss point because he loves to hold it with his palms and put kisses from forehead to chin. he finds you so cute trying to escape from his hold, trying to hide your liking with a blushed face.
MIMIR also likely to choose your hands and knuckles as where he enjoys kissing you mostly. he has manner and he knows how to treat his lover at hight quality and with lots of affection and he also wants you to feel the great love he has for you from these kisses. he allows you to put your hand in front of his lips and wait for him to kiss because both he and you know how it gives chills down to your spine, feeling being loved by your lover in a very gentle manner.
FAYE is a strong woman no one can deny. like thor, her power don’t show itself in intimate moments. she knows you can handle some rough - and intimate moments but she would like to be delicate since you are meaning a lot to her; her beloved lover. so, both her touches and kisses tend to be sensitive towards you. her hands travel around your body slowly and carefully, showing her love with a calm nature, and her kisses are the same. being the love of calm and loving attitude, she chooses your chest to kiss whenever she finds a free time to get in touch with you in a closer way. to her, your chest is the closest way to reach your heart beneath your skin. also, it is where you love to have her because it is easier for you to hug her body when she puts her head on it. in these times, she kisses your chest multiple times.
HEIMDALL is shy, you can say that. he is shy and cocky since he doesn’t want to show his addiction of you and he denies it when it comes to kissing. yes, he loves to kiss everywhere of your body since it is clearly belong to him and no one else - and his belong to yours. however, when you ask him where he likes to kiss the most on your body, he would make a joke like how you thought he would pick somewhere but eventually, he would decide to say how he love every part of you and can not choose. maybe, if you puss him harder, he would say ‘the lips’ in a very low tone and he doesn’t want you to speak about it any longer but yes, he likes when you smirk with knowledge whenever he looks at your lips.
I love Freyr and Freya so much, please can I request headcanons of how they would bond with their crush :)
soft,,,
warnings/tags: gn!reader, fluff and softness, pining and deep crushes
wc: 616 words
FREYA.
» warm, sincere attention is given to the little details. freya is the type to take great joy in reading any book you express fondness over, even from idle conversation, even without an explicit or implicit suggestion, or recommendation, that she do so; she longs to build these shared interests between you. there's this feeling of endearment towards you and anything you express an interest over that permeates her actions and expressions, both genuine and true to heart.
» though a little tentative at first, a profound sort of trust and connection dawns once you share your respective histories. she gives you the space to speak, of your mind and of your heart, and comes to allow you to do the same for her. it is important that empathy does not give way to pity. with freya, there's always a steadiness, a safety, that comes with being in her presence. letting you into her space, her home, holds symbolic value. over time, you may find that this home holds little reminders of your visits and travels together — as though there's a space for you here, too.
» she wants you to feel appreciated by virtue of her care for you, but also because that is one of the many things which you make her feel. it's not a give and take of the transactional variety, but rather the kind of freely given affection that stirs freya back to a time before the need to measure happiness with caution.
» should you show an interest, she is happy to share knowledge that only those close enough would be privy to, and corrects any inaccuracies with patience and only a light sort of teasing reserved for you. with your influence, there's a sort of light that comes to surface more often, like the warmth of vanaheim rather than the long-felt, bitter chill of midgard.
FREYR.
» with freyr, there's a real desire to connect and learn about your values, what you believe in, and the way you see the world around you. it's laid bare through everyday interactions. while common for most people whenever the interest in another arises, freyr would really seek to relate those things to himself: gladly taking an interest in new subjects, activities, or even hobbies as a way to better understand you and to (hopefully) get more of a chance to be around you.
» still, there's an ease to him. freyr is by no means bashful, so he easily threads in and out of this lightness onto deeper subjects with very little hesitance. and yet, there is an almost boyish inclination to impress you where he can. should your eyes be on the sharper side, this is sort of endearingly transparent in the activities you do together — or, at the very least, those he suggests — and that bring you closer to one another. should you ever grant him your attention in moments where he actively steps into his role as a leader — detailing a plan, encouraging others — there's a very lightly staggering blend of pride and fluster that stirs within him with the awareness.
» he's the type to really remember the things you enjoy and would like to do; if you express the wish to visit some place (see, vanaheim), he honestly and readily inspires you to go — together — as soon as the circumstances allow it. once you find the time to, this takes place rather suddenly, as though spontaneous; in reality, he would've been waiting to do so at the earliest opportunity.
» freyr wants to see you happy. at the core of this 'want', there is a warm, earnest desire for his inclusion in your happiness, whether to simply be in its presence or at its very root.
Synopsis — After getting injured during a sparring match, Heimdall spends some time taking care of you in his own way.
· words — 3.3K.
· warnings — please read ! fluff, graphic mention of injury, kisses, subtle love confessions, strangers to friends to lovers, MC and Heimdall are both loners and crave company, ankle sprain, Heimdall being Heimdall, fighting, heavily implied depression and mental illnesses, yearning, mild awkwardness, teasing, gn!reader, mentions of panic attacks, disassociating. Not beta read at all.
· notes — self indulgent, yet again. A week ago , i sprained my ankle during a nasty fall, so i decided to find comfort in writing my favourite feral cat taking care of someone in the same situation as me. I feel like i should address this now, but i do take requests, and my inbox should be open. (Though i am resting, for awhile.)
A03 link
Remember, dont like it? Dont read.
Thinking back on it, you never really should have agreed to spar with him. Truthfully, you're not even sure where the sudden burst of confidence and twinge of anger came from. Perhaps it was the way he strutted up to you and once again to nobody's surprise, placed himself up onto an unreachable pedestal, and placed you, inevitably, below him.
"Where you belonged", as he would so often muse. Maybe that's why. Disturbing your momentary peace, maybe it was because you simply wanted to get the interaction over with and go back to your seldom isolation.
His company now, was far from unwelcome, yet he still managed to somehow grind your gears and make your blood boil. So you gave into his childish taunting at last, and agreed to have a friendly sparring match with him.
Attempting to convince yourself that it was his words that made you accept, and definitely not because deep down you wanted to watch him in action. You can convince yourself you didn't, per se, but even a part of you knew you were simply avoiding the truth.
He was a pompous asshole, snarky and egotistical. And yet, why were you so inevitably drawn to him? A smile full of cocksure confidence, words straightforward and downright hurtful to hear, (especially from a near total stranger) he was all that you thought to avoid. Initially. But he kept coming back. Every single time. Unyielding. No matter how many times you sought to ignore his presence, fought with your own mind in order to avoid him like a disease.
You soon began to think that maybe he was like you, always alone and yet inevitably yearned for the companionship of another. Maybe he found solace within your interactions, a way to de-stress without being violent. It could be that Heimdall was comfortable around you, now.
You really hoped that was true.
Companionship was a term you would rather use to describe the relationship between both of you. You don't think that he would consider the both of you friends, per say, maybe more of someone he would frequently bother when he was out of work. The days were long and boring before he came along, the loneliness biting at your mind as the cold of Bifrost would your skin. It was an odd thought, really, to become so comfortable in the presence of another.
Work was adequate but ultimately not something you truly wanted to do with your life and time. Having to interact with those around you makes you incredibly tired, even when doing little to nothing. Time was a concept that you found to care less and less about as the days chipped by. Not that you considered it precious or anything, but you did think that you were destined for repose.
You weren't lazy. You simply thought that perhaps being alone was something you were destined for. You came to enjoy him being around you, and foolishly, your mind had latched onto that notion and refused to let go the second it became apparent. The revelation hit you like a brick to the nose. Simple little thoughts of 'oh, Heimdall would like this.' When gazing at a particularly interesting book, 'I had hoped he wasn't too busy to join me...' Wistfully wishing he would be sat beside you when eating your lunch, being able to bask in the comforting silence he brought with him. (When he kept quiet, anyways.) You began finding yourself unconsciously drifting your eyes and attention to the food he liked to snack on, blood red apples in particular. The merchants would always gaze at you knowingly, yet you couldn't understand.
But you knew now that you enjoyed having him around a lot more than you used to like to admit. Heimdall somehow always had something interesting to say. Whether it was gossip about the locals or something he had seen on his errands, he always managed to make you captivated. Being able to hear the thoughts of others so clearly must've been a treasure trove for someone who sought out drama constantly like him.
The retellings of secrets hidden in the depths of an Asgardian's mind that had particularly pissed him off that day were held on display just for the two of you. His soothing voice definitely didn't help your case, either. You felt special to be able to spend time with Heimdall, whilst the both of you enjoyed each other's company. Though, spending time with him was few and far in between as of late, with his work schedule and constant errands. So, with the naivety of a small child, you followed him to the training grounds. Valkyries and passerby's alike moved aside when in the same path as him. Unrelenting and full of himself, he was prepared to beat you and show you how much better he was. Though, you weren't really paying attention fully to the noises around you, simply preferring to stay and cherish the silence you unfortunately lost by reluctantly agreeing.
The sky was clear, and a pleasant shade of blue and cornflower, the rustling of trees, and the thin blades of grass gave you a small momentary peace. Breathing in through your nostrils deeply and exhaling as silently as you could manage, you catch yourself wishing that maybe he could have spent time with you in a less violent setting. Both of you shared the common interest of silence and the tranquility that came with it; and yet, why was he so adamant about getting into a fight setting with you?
Perhaps he truly believed he had something to prove. The merits and reputation held to his mere name were sure to send most, if not some, running with their tail between their legs. An opponent who could see every move you were about to make before you even thought about putting it into action? no fat chance in hel would anybody dare to challenge him. You would guess that he simply wanted to make sure his abilities were not rusty, but a part of you hoped Heimdall possibly used this as an opportunity to spend time with you.
You finally begin to pay attention when the gravel becomes hard dirt beneath the soles of your boots. Letting the subtle sway of wind embrace your form, relaxing and keeping a clear mind was the first thing you would need to do. You didn't want to win the match, you already knew you were destined to lose, but a part of you wanted to, at the very least, show you weren't completely useless when it came down to combat. Heimdall hums a small tune to himself, chipper and airy. "Let's just get this over with." You exasperatedly sigh, pausing your light steps to a quick halt and watch as he stands a few strides in front of you. Don't think about anything, you remind yourself like a mantra. Just be unpredictable, overwhelm his senses and don't think.
"Of course. What an honour, this is to fight against me! You can sing my praises later when I beat you." Jubilantly, he shifts in his feet, awaiting your first move with bated anticipation. Rolling your eyes, you decide to no longer humour him and take a quick stance. He lunges at your placid form, confident. Pivoting to dodge the incoming hit, you aim to land a kick to his upper chest. As expected, Heimdall easily evades your attack and takes a light step behind your attack range. Regaining your balance, it becomes much clearer to you that letting him get a chance to run away won't work in your favour.
Springing back into action from the momentary lapse proves to get you more energized now that you know what to do. Rushing towards him, your fists aim to his upper chest, hoping to momentarily immobilize him. The speed and accuracy leaves a lot to be desired, but you refuse to let up one bit. Hit after hit he dodges with pinpoint accuracy, coming out unscathed all the while. Heimdall sees an opening in your attacks, a momentary pause, and uses it to his advantage.
He pushes down onto your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the ground. You grunt from the impact but refuse to let it linger. Fleetingly, you marvel at his strength, able to push you over yet with little to no power behind it; it makes you more excited to fight. Smiling, you leap from your seated position to sweep him off his feet. Literally. It works only to wobble him a little bit until he regains his balance. He laughs, and you can't help but join him at the absurdities of the situation. Heimdall lets you get up and reposition yourself to your starting stance, watching you inquisitively all the while. While you're unable to use magic, it isn't unheard of for fighters to use underhanded tricks while battling. With the idea in your mind, you plan on finally taking action.
The whole situation makes you feel a little bit giddy, finding so much amusement in fighting even though you were destined to lose. You suppose fighting against a good opponent does work wonders for actually getting amusement with situations like these. One misstep in your run to your enemy makes you fall flat onto the floor. It may seem comical to bystanders, but you can't find it in yourself to laugh when all you can feel is the overbearing pain in your foot. Gasping, you quickly become overwhelmed with the intense feel of pain and begin to hyperventilate. Your vision is fogging at the edges, and your hands begin to shake. The oncoming panic attack makes your head swim. The only thing in your brain is how much pain you're in. Pushing yourself onto your back, you cradle the sore muscles of your ankle tenderly. As his laughing abates, Heimdall approaches you, blissfully unaware of your predicament.
"Don't tell me you mortals are truly so weak that a little tumble has you misty?"
You try to ignore his words, futilely attempting to tune out the commotion around you and trying to concentrate on the whistle of the wind and rustle of leaves. "You truly are so fragile." He adds, quickly adopting a tone of faux-sympathy almost instantaneously. "It's pathetic once you really think about it. How perceptible to pain your kind is. I mean, at first, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but now it's all crystal clear to me. Humans truly are at the very bottom of the totem pole when it comes to survivability, huh?"
"Can you not be an asshole for five minutes and help me get up??" You ask incredulously. Eyes narrowed in barely restrained anger, you fight back the tears that threaten to spill over your lashes. Ignoring the searing pain tearing through your muscles and nerves once you attempt to reposition yourself properly. You let out a soft whimper of pain, ankle ligaments weak and torn apart. "Fuck," you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm down your breathing, that was step one. Breathing harshly through your nose in hopes of slowing your adrenaline and pacing heartbeat had proved functional, you shifted slightly to take off some pressure from your foot, wincing at the spark of pain that shot up directly into your brain.
"What? Did that- Did that really hurt that much?" Heimdall makes a noise of confusion, unsure if that was genuine or not. You glare into his own stare from below your lashes, and your mind's eye hits him like a slap in the face. You were, in fact, not joking. Baffled, Heimdall doesn't know how to react properly. Huffing out short breaths, you lean back onto your hands, planting them firmly on the ground behind you. You resort to simply disassociating yourself in hopes that it would lessen the pain. Concentrating on an area that wasn't overrun with prickles of pain was harder than you'd have originally thought it would be. It felt like your leg was on fire, and the fire was spreading and refused to snuff itself out.
You knew treatment was going to be necessary, but you wondered how you were going to get there. Panicking will only make it worse. You fought to remind yourself. But it hurt so bad. Heimdall looked incredibly uncomfortable, taken aback. He wasn't one for showing his emotions clearly, but at the moment, he seemed confused and uncertain. He didn't know how to console someone, let alone help. He was quickly reminded that he hasn't even ever gotten this far in terms of friendships before.
Heimdall's hands hovered in front of him, unsure. Seemingly wanting to speak but unable to find the words, he resigned himself to simply linger near your crumpled up form. It takes a while and is not easy by any means, but you manage to get your breathing under control. Careful not to trigger a panic attack or anything of the like, you resign to hoping that your forehead ceases the banging soon. Finally, a bit more calm, you wipe your waterline with the back of your palm. "Just, can you go and get gulltoppr so i can go to the med bay? I don't think I'll be able to walk there."
He nods, a bit hurriedly, and dashes to find his pet. You watch his back fade into the distance.
-
The ride to the med bay was rocky, Heimdall had to practically pick you up for you to be seated properly without pain. With travelling on uneven terrain, your ankle jolted and swayed with gulltoppr's strides. You hoped your discomfort did not show too much on your face. You refused to meet the eyes of any passerby's, beginning to feel shame from your situation. You hopped and limped your way into the small wooden building, hoping to just rest until you were recovered fully. You pretended not to notice his eyes on you. A lovely woman had seated you in a private sector and gave you a concoction for pain relief. She had said that after you awoke, she would have the medicine at the ready. Shifting in the surprisingly soft linens of the bed, you tried to get as comfortable as possible.
Though the act was proving to be harder than you thought. Heimdall had been uncharacteristically silent during the whole ordeal, only acting as to wave off the nurse once she wasn't needed in the room anymore. "Do you…are you feeling better, now?" Heimdall's voice was quiet, nothing higher than a mere whisper when he finally spoke. Finally rested and leg elevated. The pain became nothing but a dull throb. You were relieved that the pain wouldn't be a constant for much longer, but the mandatory bed rest would definitely put a small dent on your plans. You hum and stare at him with droopy eyes, acknowledging that the painkillers are beginning to kick in. He rests on the edge of the bed, picking at his nails with no subtlety or care. Slowly, you reach for his hands, pausing when he tenses from your approaching touch. Heimdall finally relaxes after a moment of you hovering over his arms.
Playing with his fingers, twisting and thumbing over them carefully, proves to calm him down a small bit. "Of course, I'm better when you're here." Smiling down at your intertwined hands, it does finally become the clearest it ever has been. As the waters part and the putrid pollution of denial in your mind wanes, you finally see it clearly for what it always was. What you felt, the lingering looks, stuttering heartbeat, being so comfortable with each other and looking out for one another in your own ways… you loved him.
He was to you what the sun is to a plant, vying for its mere presence and revelling in the calmness and comfortability it brings with it. Heimdall was stubborn, hardheaded, and brash, but he's your friend. A seed of doubt begins to bloom in your subconscious. You pause the fiddling of your fingers to ponder. Would he even like someone not on the same standing as him? Heimdall was no doubt someone who took immense pride and satisfaction from his ranking, but you were merely a mortal. Insignificant and as useful to them as a bug under their golden boots. You barely manage to repress a heavy sigh at the thought. "Thanks for helping me. Even if you didn't have to. I still really appreciate it. It's only too bad that our spar ended so abruptly." Sheepishly, you move to retract your hand, but he holds tight and refuses to let go.
Confused, you move to stare up at him, immediately noticing that he was in deep thought, as if staring right through you. Suddenly, he lunges forwards, and his lips meet your own. The grip on your hand tightens a smidge, but not enough to be painful to your skin. You weren't sure what to think. Did that mean he returned your feelings? Was he just playing with your mind? You truly hoped not. It would be a damn near catastrophe if you had to go back to being without him again. Heimdall slowly ends the kiss, making sure to keep his eyes locked onto yours. "I am nothing if not truthful." He softly mutters, a small smile gracing his face. His kiss makes your head feel as if it was stuffed with cotton, mush, and complacent for his touch on you.
“That’s so unfair!” You whine, holding an arm to your lips, hoping to cover your rapidly heating face. Blinking owlishly, you weren't sure how to react. Heimdall leans over and slyly invades your personal space again. You fight to not think about how soft his lips are or the sweet meringue taste of them when they were locked with your own. “What’s unfair?” he questions, a satisfied smirk pulling on his lips. The medicine bay is quiet at this point, gone are the staff and rowdy patients, the only sound being the subtle creak of the worn out bed when Heimdall shifts himself as to not rest on your injured leg.
He flicks your forehead in good nature, snickering at your small yelp of pain at the action. Instinctively, you cradle your forehead in your palms, scowling at him. "You're not very subtle, you know." The words are strung long like a musician's lyre, the sound of his voice akin to a harmonious melody itself. Paying him no mind, you block out the feelings of shame that begin to bloom. Of course, he just had to know what you were thinking, as if he's unable to tease you for every little thing. "Asshole," groaning, you refuse to meet his eyes, damning him and his abilities to hel and its inhabitants. Rubbing the sore spot on your head, it soothes the ache somewhat.
"Warn me next time!" His lips press against your own in a quick peck, shutting you up instantly. Face ablaze and nerves alight, you blank out and freeze from your resting spot. He pulls away from your lips slowly and doesn't break the lock his eyes hold on your face one bit. Refusing to budge, he simply leans closer to you. He proudly laughs at your misfortune. "Too bad you can't see it coming first, hm?" Resisting the urge to kick him off of the bed, you resort to simply shifting your face away from his own. “You can’t just do that without warning me!” Your hand bunches up the silken fabric of his tunic, longing to push him away yet yearning to get him closer at the same time.
Brows furrowed and eyes darting to anywhere but his own, Heimdall decides that maybe you were worth more of his time than he had first admitted.
The both of you didn't need to talk about your feelings just yet, content on simply knowing the other returned them in full.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Heimdall prides himself in his presentability — refined, composed and tidy — but he can't always be like that...and you're so glad you get to see that side of him
contents: gn! reader; mornings with heimdall; hair braiding; lots of affection; soft heimdall...like insanely soft; reader teases him; maybe a little too intimate in one scene??; FLUFF
word count: 800+
a/n: here to give u some fluff, heimdall fans ♡♡♡ it took me awhile but it's finally finished ( ‘́⌣’̀)
reblogs and comments appreciated! ♡
"Seems you're finally awake, sunshine."
His lips kiss your forehead, trying to coax you out of slumber whilst the cold nipping at your skin's dragging you back in. The warmth of the covers is all the welcoming, and you're convinced to drift back to sleep until a chilled knuckle grazes your cheek. It's Heimdall's failed attempt of waking you up that only gravitates you to the warmth of his bare chest — which he laughs at.
You're sure it's the drowsiness in your lids, but Heimdall looks more breathtaking today.
Perhaps it's the way his head is propped against his palm, like he's splayed out to be painted. Or the way his dewy skin radiates greater than the candles scattered around the room. Maybe it's because his usual tidy braids are replaced with flowing, tousled locks. Your hand curiously caresses his face, his stubble brushing against your fingertips.
He's so unkempt, so vulnerable, so not Heimdall.
"You don’t look too good yourself, love.” he scoffs.
He'd usually savor the adoration seeping from your gaze, but it seems more overwhelming today. His pounding heart makes him feel too vulnerable, and he didn't want to give you another reason to gawk over this rare side of him.
"Make yourself useful, come braid my hair.”
His weak attempt at diversion seems to work. You scramble out of the covers to reach for the comb residing on his nightstand, promptly following him to the edge of the bed as his back faces you.
You gently work the teeth between his locks, releasing the knots as you work up to his roots. Your fingers indulge in the silkiness of it, letting the strands linger between your fingertips. Leisurely yet meticulously, you weave the middle section of his hair, softly humming to yourself.
“Don’t be long now. The All-Father requires my presence.”
His tone's impatient, but his body seems at peace. With slacked shoulders, his back's leaning into you, welcoming your fingers into areas they can't quite reach; and the faint sigh that escapes him doesn't go unnoticed. His usual antics would satiate you, but today was different.
And he knows it too. He knows you're scheming something, but your mind won't let him on the finer details. He knows what you want, just not how you'll get it.
So he waits.
And he waits.
And nothing happens.
Minutes pass while you braid his hair, and he knows you're deliberately avoiding the topic. He's rummaging through your mind, but nothing's useful. The gentle pull on his scalp tells him you're tying the braid near his pierced ear — that the moment you share is almost over. But the moment your arms snake around his torso, jaw planted in the crook of his shoulder, he knows it's far from over.
“Finished, dear,” you sweetly whisper. Your hand inches upwards, wondering how far you could go — see how far you could pull out the lesser known parts of him.
The hot breath against his ear makes his nerves tense, while the sweet nothings you coo tinge his cheeks pink. He knows what you want and how you'll get it, but he still turns into putty as you teasingly kiss along the cuff on his ear, greedy hands wanting, needing to feel every inch of him.
He doesn’t have to look into your eyes to know what you're asking, especially when your fingers seize and splay themselves over his heart.
How much could you have of him?
“All of me,” he answers fondly, “I'm forever yours to keep.”
He guides your palm to his lips, kissing it with so much adoration it flusters you. It's the first time he's been honest this morning.
The first time he's said and shown you.
The first time he's laid his heart bare for you.
You’re not sure whether your heart flutters more from his gesture or from this newer, softer side of him, but it didn't matter. It only mattered that you're leaning over his shoulder to connect your lips with his, showing you were his to keep too.
You detangle yourself from him, gaze trailing his every movement as he parts from the bed, getting himself ready, resembling more and more of the Heimdall others saw.
Before he departs, he looks at you with a blank face; but when your eyes meet, you realize there's much more brewing in those fuschia orbs.
He wants you to say it.
He wants to hear how badly you want him to stay, how badly you need his loving embrace to help you drift back to sleep. Like the thread that holds you together while you're apart makes your yearning increase tenfold. He needs you to say how much you love him, because he can't say it himself.
The words are on the tip of his tongue, yet, he refrains — and you were fine with that.
He was learning to love, anyway.
"Don't miss me too much," he jests, turning his heels to reach for the door.
"I'll try not to," you smile.
The door opens and shuts, leaving the silence to keep you company. You pull the covers flush against your body, indulging in the lingering scent of him.
You ruminate over his words, and can't help but laugh — wondering if they were meant more for you or him.
gummygunk
annaxmalina
areudirty
ellievsbear
izzy806
