a-killvr-queen

can you imagine?

✨twenty-five / filipino✨

1616 posts

This Is Just Lovely! So Much Chemistry And LongingI Have No Words!

This is just lovely! So much chemistry and longing…I have no words! 😍

do you have any headcanon’s for thor as a dad??

A/N: Thor x F!Reader. Fluff. Some Smut. Pregnancy.

It’s the day Thor returns from his campaign. He’d been gone for weeks - slipping into his role as king and as a peacemaker. His hands are no longer used for battle, but for alliances. His unyielding charm and kindness play well for diplomacy and discussion. He is someone you cannot say no to and also someone who people continue to underestimate in terms of his intelligence.

He is not simply a brute. He is not simple. It seems like now is the first time he has been able to emphasize all of his other remarkable attributes that aren’t only his strength and power.

It’s about his cunning and wiles and logic that attracted you to him so deeply - that ensnared you and kept you close.

You are mostly grateful that he isn’t the first to fight anymore. He no longer holds the line.

“It is quiet now, my love. Our lives can finally settle.”

You glance down at your children as they tug on your skirts. They’re vibrating with excitement - wet-mouth smiles stretching their full cheeks as they ask over and over again when papa will be home.

Well they’d certainly settled. You’d been knocked up almost immediately and it hadn't stopped. The sex. The worship. The fact that you didn’t have to save anyone or be heroes.

“Would you be happy with a dull life, Thor?”

“I’ve never wanted anything else. I could just stay in bed with you for the rest of my years - be inside you until both of us are old and ugly.”

“How romantic.”

“I’m full of lovely words, wife. Now turn over so I can use more of them.”

You didn’t think this would be your future. You didn’t think it would be children and quiet dinners and hours spent sneaking around as he took you in a closet or hallway with his hand over your mouth.

It was a game, of course. A delicious bit of role-play that rippled with the excitement of the first few years they’d been together. They’d kept their relationship a secret because you hadn’t wanted to jinx it. Everything had been too close for comfort. Too busy. Too deadly. Your connection to Thor had been the one good thing in your dangerous life.

“Does it remind you of those nights at the tower?” he rumbles against the arch of your throat, hips rolling as he hitches your thigh higher over his waist. Your back bruises underneath the sharp edge of the shelving. The storage room can barely fit the two of you, but that’s why it’s good. “When I’d drag you away from one of Stark’s parties and make you come on my cock.” He gives you another hard, perfunctory stroke and it forces a startled noise from your tongue. “Then I’d eat that sweet cunt until you’d cry.”

“He’s home,” Val interrupts your thoughts as she strides toward you. She’s balancing another one of your children on her shoulders. Your son giggles - tugging on her braids. “Naughty,” she chastises before pretending to bite his chubby ankle. He giggles harder and when Val lifts him off her and tosses him into the air, he shrieks with delight.

If she wasn’t a Valkyrie with preternatural reflexes, you would have complained.

“You saw him then?”

“Yes,” She lifts an eyebrow. “Looking quite ready to murder someone for keeping him from you and the little beasts.”

“Loki?”

“No - it’s that annoying advisor Gudrun - wanted a full rundown of the campaign.”

“At least, Loki went with him this time. Thor does better being away from us when he has his brother.”

“True,” Val smirks before her eyes drift over your shoulder. “Guess he’s escaped Gudrun.”

You sense him before you see him. You’d know him anywhere. The way the ground thuds with his steps - the way he smells: smoke, ash trees, fog and driftwood.

The children howl - ripping themselves away from you as they run towards their father. You turn to greet him and your heart jumps into your throat. You sometimes forget how gorgeous he is. His handsomeness can often be unbearable - the same painful intensity that comes with staring straight at the white-gold sun. His hair is even longer - braided and shoulder-length. The dark scratch of his beard accentuates his lake-blue eyes.

When he sees his children rush toward him, he crouches - spreading his muscular arms. He booms with laughter as he lifts up all three children and kisses them noisily.

“Papa! Papa! Papa!”

And then.

“Did you bring us presents? Did you fight anything? Did you meet any monsters? Where’s Uncle Loki? Mama said we could stay up until you came home!”

Ifs disgustingly cute and once more you wonder how your life has shifted from beheading villains and fighting titans to enjoying every endearing gesture your children come up with (even if they can be little shits).

Thor responds to them in kind: enthusiastic, boastful answers. He matches their tone - their utter excitement.

“Of course, I brought you gifts. Why are you all so big? Have you grown without me? Were you good to your mother? Has Val taught you how to fight yet?”

He’s a stupidly good father. Protective. Gentle. Understanding. He handles temper tantrums better than you. He has all the patience that you lack. He can entertain them for hours - playing imaginary battles on his hands and knees. One time, he’d worn a full wold pelt and pretended to be Fenrir.

He’s unafraid to teach them to swim - to hold a wooden sword - to give them animals that should not be pets.

“Alright - alright, you little fighters. Let me go see your mother.”

It is then that Thor raises his head and actually looks at you. He drinks you in with the intensity of his stare. His lips twitch - his expression suddenly crumpling to one of relief. It is as if every time he reunites with you after a long while it’s like he didn’t expect you to be there and waiting. It is so much more than a look. It’s full of a shared tenderness that’s been emboldened by years spent fighting and fucking and then quieting down - giving birth - sharing each other’s breath and secrets.

I love you, he tells you all the time. Every night and morning and you hear it even when he is gone. I love you love you.

He kisses his children again soundly, ruffling their hair, before placing them back down just as Loki enters the room. He appears tired - a bit stiff and you wonder how many parties Thor forced him to join in the name of “diplomacy”.

Before their uncle can say a word, he is swarmed by the kids. The girls strangely take after Loki - more subdued and aloof and already showing signs that they have inherited some form of magic despite Loki and Thor not even being related by blood.

“Must be my mother then,” Thor discerns as one of the toddlers wraps her tiny fist around her father’s finger. His gaze softens as his daughter regards him with her big eyes that glint violet. “Unless - you’ve been sleeping with my brother.

“Sadly no,” you reply as you balance your other daughter on your hip. There’s a spark in her - the tang of a storm you can detect in her downy curls. She burrows her face into your neck and clings to you. “Of course, I still can. He’s always offering.”

Thor gapes at you before firmly transforming his mouth to a thin line and pinning you with a pointed glare.

“I’m going to spank you for that, woman.”

You watch as Loki tries to handle the children hanging off his leathers. His attempt at appearing irritated is an unconvincing mask. He holds them too tightly, his lips twitching into an amused smile at their adoration. “C’mon, silver-tongue,” Val interjects, giving you a very direct wink. “Let’s go show these brats what you’ve brought home.”

Thor gives Val an appreciative grin as he squeezes her shoulder when she walks past him. She’s the least subtle, but you’re still grateful for giving you both some space.

It’s thick in the air: the longing, the curtailed anxiety and grief at possibly losing him whenever he goes somewhere you cannot. He’s still Thor, King of Asgard. He is still a target due to all the battles he’s won and the creatures he’s put away.

He marches toward you, his booted feet dirtying the floor with each rushed step. His ox-blood cape billows behind him - his armor glittering midnight dark and heavy. He is an enormous man who is made more enormous by his leathers. You remember the times when you both were out fighting - when you’d kill and return to each other - panting and full of adrenaline and then you’d fuck like you’d touched death (which you had to a certain extent).

“I saw you go down. I thought - I thought you were gone.”

“Never - I’d never leave you. Now - get inside me. Make me yours.”

When he reaches you, it's like being swept up in a hurricane - the brunt of a storm. He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you clean off your feet. Your palms fly to his face, his beard scratching your skin and wrists. You lower your head to kiss him fiercely. His tongue is harsh in your mouth as he makes a low, gritty noise from the back of his throat. He draws away to look at you, his eyes clear and lovely as they rove over your features - cataloging every detail to make sure that you are unchanged. The communication is silent: Are you alright? Are you okay? I did not leave you vulnerable? I left you safe because you must be safe. I cannot lose you. I cannot. I will not.

He sets you down and kisses you again - crushing your lips together in a way that vibrates through your bones. He hums - making soft, pleased murmurs against the wet slant of your mouth until he reluctantly pulls away. You then feel his palm on the slight swell of your belly. “How’s the baby?”

His hand his giant and warm - his thumb stroking you over your loose gown. “Tempermental,” you shrug. “Kicking like crazy. I think it’s a boy.”

“Could be,” he grins - his teeth white and shiny against the dark shadow of his beard. “Or another girl.”

Your wind your fingers around a silky lock of blonde hair, tugging it lightly. “We'll have a pack of Valkyries then.”

“That’s the plan, my love.” His tone is playful as he guides his touch further down. He cups you between your legs in a way that makes you clutch at his shoulders and inhale sharply. “How can I attend to my queen then?” His brows draw together, his expression thoughtful. “I need to make up for all those weeks I was unable to ease the ache, yes?”

You swallow. Even after all these years, Thor can single-handedly make you melt with that direct, husky voice.

Something burns hot inside you - swirling in your core - the bowl of your pelvis. Your heartbeat picks up and Thor must hear it because his smile turns indulgent and a bit arrogant. There is that subtle stroke of the old Thor against the canvas of his face; the cocky warrior-prince who could bed five women a night without getting tired.

“To bed?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively as he grips your wrist to lead you down the hall and toward their chambers. “The children will be busy for the next - three days - I’d wager.”

You frown. “Why is that?”

“I bought them a distracting present.”

Your frown deepens. “What?”

“We’ll discuss it later!”

As if on cue, there’s a loud roar in the distance followed by the delighted screams of your children. Thor, at least, looks incredibly sheepish.

“Explain now.”