This is the possible part 2 that I was promising. Several thousand years late and unedited (for the most part)
Heimdall thinks about you part 2 (afab + slightly confirmed fem reader I think? Tell me if I’m wrong) (SLIGHTNSFW)
That whimsical feeling encased him images and motions sparking from seemingly no where in his mind. He’s there again, his nose pressing against the wet warmth of your clit. His tongue swiping uselessly as he tastes you. A hand- your hand tangles itself into his braids, the action making warmth drop to his groin. Your hand guides him, corrects his inexperienced tongue and points his actions against your clit. His eyes flickered up to yours silently seeking validation for his efforts, he was desperate to hear a noise from your lips. “Very good, just like that.” His groin ached at those tiny little words, tiny little words dipped in honey. That’s all he needed to hear before he kept going
He opened his eyes and was dished with the frigid truth. He was not in fact indulging in anything other than a wet dream. He wasn’t tongue deep inside you, he wasn’t even next to you. He was alone in his bed. His head already filling with the thoughts of others.
Another truth bared itself, the recipient of his pining was a mere foot-soldier. Not even a Valkyrie. not particularly gifted. Not known for status or smarts, just a sharp tongue and a foul mouth. No fear and not many thoughts. just an eating, sleeping, soldier trying to get by.
The power he has over him gave him no joy it was my power over him that set him alight. Well, the fictional concept of you taking power over him was the prospect that his subconscious mind was absolutely yearning for. So he bothered you. oh god did he bother you. For any little morsel of flaw he just had to drag it all out. All for the opportunity that you’d snap and take care of his attitude. It was an outlandish idea and he knew that it wouldn’t happen unless he solicited such a service. Despite how much he yearned for the experience to be spontaneous and unplanned he dreaded the embarrassment that would come with asking such a question. Gods it made his skin crawl and ache. His reputation would be slaughtered, his name a disgrace. If not for the nature of his sexual desires, it would be for the desire of intimacy. What was he if not “untouchable”?
He was once covert about his favoritism, no longer. He openly pulled you away from Valkyrie training to bother you with a one on one “training”. If you could call trying to swing at something that you’ll never hit “training”. Or, trying to hit something you’ll never even come close to while being degraded. Then yes, you were training. You were training every day, for at least three hours. It was a special kind of torture just for you. All for you.
It was getting mentally exhausting, being targeted. Like a vulture swooping down to swipe at the flesh of a limping coyote. A beautiful vulture with fuchsia swaying eyes… and pink lips… and golden teeth.
The intrusive nature of your relationship bled between the lines of acquaintances and… an awkward nuanced connection that you couldn’t quite name.
Comfortability has long passed settled
He wishes to tell you about the fantasy that had plagued his dreams for that week. But he could hardly think with your lips sown to his.
It’s still hot, unbearably so. The asgardian sun scorns all that dare step out into its light. The curtains are hiding the two of you from the suns light, taking some of the heat away directly.
He’s dizzy and thoughtless when you two are entangled in such a way. That is the perfect word to describe the two of you “entangled”. Your legs intertwined and arms wrapped around each other. A mess of squirming limbs and bodies. Lips sealed tightly together, he pulls away in a stupor.
There should be words, his words, jammed into the silence. But there’s nothing he could say that would fit comfortably.
your body toppled over his, lazily pushing him against the bed. Lips on connecting uselessly. Your hands dragged up his sides.
His eyes flutter closed as he swore felt kisses on the insides of his thighs, hands delicate and benevolent support his legs as they fall open. He’s woken from his daze when there’s a distinct bite down against his lip. He’s panting, how embarrassing. He chided himself.
This is real, it’s no dream. It’s exactly what he was thinking about.
It’s time to take advantage.
((✿: I’m hyperfixated on GOW again and that also means I’m yapping abt heimdall constantly to myself so I had the strength to write the rest of this. I’m on a roll so I’ll probably be able to get the next part out before I die. Is sub heimdall unappreciated? Hopefully not 🙏. It’s 10:12 pm lol goodnight.))
