You can't just write "model nude for Vincent which of course led to passionate, mind-melting sex" and never mention it again! WHERE BLEASE BLEASE BLEASE
warnings: fluffy smut, body worship, lovesick corny bastards
Candles sway gently as they cast an orange glow throughout the room. The darkness mixed with the low light perfectly heightens the dips and curves of your body. Bare skin sparkles and your most private areas are hidden by shadows. Enough to tease while still leaving room for imagination.
âMore to the left?â
You await further instruction with bated breath. Half from the innate eroticism of what you were doing and half because of how hot the basement is. A light sheen of sweat has accumulated over your body. Although paired with the lighting it only made you look more breathtaking to the man in front of you.
Vincent turns his head to the side while silently evaluating you. Unconsciously he begins to tap the eraser part of his pencil against his masked lips. He was a true artist hyper-fixated on his craft; or as youâve come to learn, his muse.
This was so tender and passionate and intense AND VINCENT'S CHARACTERISATION WAS SO ON POINT I COULD VISUALISE HIM SO CLEARLY AND NOW I GOTTA GO REWATCH THE FILM HHHHHH HES SO PERFECT đđđđđ„đ„đ„đ„
You circle around Aemond so close that each word leaves a whisper of air on his skin and each movement has your skirts lapping at his heels.
âRevenge⊠Power⊠Lust?â
Aemond captures your wrist as quickly as a viper, his thumb ghosting over the end of the bandage wrapped around your palm. He takes his time in trailing his gaze from your fragile skin to your eyes, darkness swirling in his one that you had yet to ever see.
âI already possess what I thirst for Lady Baratheon.â
âAnd what would that be?â
The fingers around your wrist tighten, âItâs in my grasp as we speak.â
Teaser of my childhood friends to enemies to lovers Aemond story.
summary: When a new group stumbles into town you catch the eye of one of the men with your tight outfit and sweet smile. Bo doesnât like it. Not one bit.
warnings:Â smut, vulgarity, mentions of violence, possessive behavior, angst
Jealousy is such a pulverizing emotion, not polarizing. âPulverizingâ is the only right word to describe the way jealousy grinds away at a personâs sanity and crushes their heart for no other reason than the personâs own paranoia. That monster of a feeling oftentimes rears its ugly head and whispers nonsense into the ear of the man you love the most.
Bo Sinclair is more than meets the eye. Behind his rough exterior, charming smile, and devilish good looks, lays an emotionally broken boy trying to fight the demons of his past. He loses these battles, growing a temper and lashing out at whoever is near him.
Thereâs one exception, however. One person who doesnât have to face the heat of these dizzying emotions. You. You with your sweet smile, soft voice, and unwavering kindness toward him and his brothers. At the same time, you donât let Bo get away with everything. You challenge him at every turn from a place of love, not malice.
Although the way you are challenging him now is far from amusing.
Teeth grind harshly together to contain the onslaught of emotions threatening to spill. If looks could kill, the man putting his hands on you would be a bloody mess on the floor. Luckily for him, Bo still needed to keep up the ruse. Unluckily for Bo, that meant he was forced to just watch.
The rational part of his brain knew you were appeasing the man to set up the trap. Ever since you healed from the incident that almost took your life, you were taught the ins and outs of the Sinclair brotherâs operation. Not without an overwhelming amount of grumbling from Bo of course. He acquiesced when you brought up the point that youâre too vulnerable by yourself and if youâre helping them, theyâll be right near you if something goes wrong.
How much Bo wished he didnât let his siren make him give in so easily.
Your hands-on approach to keeping the victimâs suspicions at bay was slowly chipping away at Boâs sanity. Maybe he could understand the slight flirting and using that pretty smile, but touching the manâs arm and chest? In his primal mind, that was more than unnecessary. Especially when the other man told you âCareful sugar,â and steadied you by your waist when you stumbled over your feet. The way you blushed and thanked him through thick lashes made Boâs blood feel like boiling wax.
At that moment Bo reached the limit of his already minute patience. When youâre involved, Bo had never felt such unfettered rage. Itâs like something takes over him when there is even a semblance of a chance something bad will happen to you. Or in this case, when someone makes the fatal choice to try and take whatâs his.
Heâs already killed for you twice; another casualty means nothing. Morality is a long-forgotten concept for Bo. Nothing will stand in the way of him having you. His actions made that apparent enough.
The group that rolled into town consisted of two women and two men, which may seem like an overpowering number, but the Sinclair brothers had their strategy practically foolproof by this point. Most of the time it entailed taking advantage of Boâs charm. Something about his Louisiana drawl and crooked smile perfectly lured people into a false sense of security. Hell, even you arenât immune to the effects of that innate charisma the man possesses.
However, youâve come to learn that Bo is not the only one that seems to have a way of easily manipulating victims. A fact that you know displeasures your lover more than heâll ever admit. Men and their fragile egos.
Although to be fair, the victim youâre talking to is getting a little too close for comfort. Heâs blonde, tall, lean, and extremely clean-cut looking. In simple terms, heâs anything but your type. Not that you gave him any inkling of that.
While Bo is chatting with everyone else you sidled up next to the man, âWhatâs your name?â
A smile immediately curves the manâs lips as he looks at you, âBrett. And you?â When you tell him your name, he moves closer.
âWhere were you guys heading?â
âWe were on our way to see a football game, but we got lost and our tires popped. If itâs not clear enough weâre from out of state.â
Playfully you touch his bicep, âYou sure youâre not a football player yourself? Could have fooled me.â The fake compliment makes you cringe on the inside. In his dreams. You have to suppress a shiver of disgust when Brett settles one of his arms around your waist while appraising you up and down. Men like him are truly so predictable.
In your peripheral, you can see Bo looking at you. You may not be able to see the extent of his wrath, but you can feel it. Goosebumps prickle your skin as warmth washes over you. Your senses are already in hyperdrive due to the nature of what you are partaking in and Bo is not helping your nerves in the slightest.
Itâs safe to say youâre starting to deeply regret your choice of attire. The denim miniskirt youâre wearing is paired with a white tank top and strappy sandals. Little is left to the imagination and although Bo couldnât get enough of your outfit earlier today, the darkening of his eyes tells you he is none too pleased with it now.
âWhat is a pretty thing like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?â When his fingers dig into the fabric of your top you can hear a sharp intake of breath a few feet away.
âWouldnât you like to know?â The small smile you give him reads as flirtation, but only contempt lies behind it.
Brett chuckles and just as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, a thick voice grabs both of your attention.
âIs my girl causinâ you any trouble there?â At the phrasing of âmy girlâ Brett lets go of you like you suddenly burst into flames. It doesnât help that Bo was giving the younger man a death stare to end all death stares.
âN-no, sir.â
Brett inches away from you and you have to suppress a grimace. Bo interrupted youâre flirting far sooner than he usually does. Although, when you consider that day at the diner, heâs rather consistent with his fast and abrupt interruptions.
A smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes spreads across Boâs face. âGood. She might be a looker, but she sure is a troublemaker.â He then crooks a finger at you, âCome over here darlinâ.â
Heat blooms in your cheeks as the strangers watch you walk in front of your boyfriend. You feel like a child who is about to be scolded by their teacher for talking when they werenât supposed to.
âWhy donât you take the ladies down to the house while I help these folks get some new tires.â
Knowing whatâs about to happen next, youâre quick to nod your head, âSure.â You only make it a few steps away when you hear Bo clear his throat. Of course, you werenât going to be let off that easy.
âNo kiss goodbye?â
You mentally curse out Bo in your head. Now he was just trying to embarrass you. When you walk back into arms reach, Bo pulls you to him. Large hands squeeze your ass as he holds the front of your body flush against his. Something hard pushes into your stomach as Bo dips his head down to pull you into a rough kiss.
His teeth nip at your lips while his tongue takes claim over yours; carnal and borderline hostile. Telltale signs that the sweet Bo youâve gotten used to has been replaced by his true nature; a beast willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants.
Bo tastes of tobacco and beer; an addictive combination that, despite having an audience, you canât help but lean into. Aftershave and musk thatâs equal parts manly and tantalizing fill your senses. Bo is possessive and demanding with a hint of danger, yet you can never seem to get enough.
You gasp for air when he finally pulls back. Obsidian eyes flicker with satisfaction as they drink in your face before lingering on your swollen mouth.
Boâs lips move to ghost over the shell of your ear, âDonât go gettinâ lost now.â
Then as if nothing happened, he steps back. You jolt when he slaps your ass as you turn to take the female victims to the house. When you whip your head around to glare at him, youâre met with that damn cocky smirk. That one look tells you all you need to know.
This is far from over.
-
By the time the bodies make it to the basement, the day has given way to night. Youâre sweaty and exhausted as you sit on the shabby couch in the living room. You try your best to wipe off the blood and grime, but you could only do so much. What you needed was a shower, although that wouldnât wash away the endless waves of guilt still nipping away at your heart.
You donât like participating in such an evil act, but Ambrose is your home. Youâve never even lived a single day of your life without one of the Sinclair brothers. One of them in particular has complete control over your fragile heart.
Thatâs not to say that your feelings are a one-way street. Bo loves you so much that it borders on obsession. Years of falling for each other while never being together will do that to a person. His fatal flaw, however, is that he oftentimes does what he thinks is best for you, not what is truly best for you.
You and Bo are extremely passionate about each other, which more often than not leads to very heated arguments.
The couch dips as a certain foul-mouthed twin sits next to you, your thighs pressing together. You hear the clink of his ring against the beer bottle in his hand as he takes a long drag. When Bo brings the bottle down, he finally lets himself look you over.
Youâre still in the same outfit as before, but now itâs marred by crimson and dirt smudges. The man to your right was in a similar state, except the cap that was practically fused to his head was long gone.
Boâs eyes eventually land on the bloody rag in your hand and you answer his question before he can even ask it, âNot mine.â You donât need to elaborate further. He hums in response and the room fills with silence once again. Normally you both welcomed the quiet, but the tension radiating off both of you is palpable.
Never the one to let things go, Bo opens his mouth, âYou liked that pretty boy, huh?â
âThereâs nothing to like about a corpse.â You sarcastically answer back, the ridiculousness of this situation not lost on you in the slightest. Brett was a dead man regardless, but that little show he put on was overboard. So much so that it made anger boil in you as well.
Bo shifts to squeeze your thigh, âDarlinâ, donât play fuckinâ games with me. You were practically all over the bastard.â
You push his hand off you and mumble, âYouâre one to talk.â
âWhat did you say?â At your silence, Bo scoffs. âThis is why itâs better for you to stay in the fuckinâ house! You just donât get it.â
The nerve of this man is endless.
You twist your body so you can fix him with a stern look of your own, âLet me get this straight. You can do whatever flirting thatâs necessary, but I canât? You really are a hypocrite.â
A sound akin to a growl leaves Bo as his tone deepens, âStop giving me lip. It ainât the same thing and you damn well know it.â
âOh right. I forgot that Bo Sinclair gets to do whatever he wants. Just like back in the day. Maybe if you schmoozed one of them enough, theyâll stay and give you less trouble than me.â
âWhat are you on woman?â To his credit, Boâs face is plastered with bewilderment but your own torrent of emotions made you blinded to that.
Fed up, you jump up from the couch and jab your finger at the object of your desire and subsequent anguish. âNo Bo. Trust me, I understand. Must be boring to fuck the same bitch all these years. Who wouldnât want something new and exciting?â Your words come out harsh and vulgar. Itâs not normal for you to speak like this but the insecurity filling your heart is making you not think straight.
âWhen we were young you took your sweet time even kissing me, although you kicked me out right after. Maybe if I dressed like this and put out like the other girls in town back then you would have desired me enough to make me yours sooner.â
Glass hits the ground as Bo pushes into you, almost knocking you over. To your shock, calloused fingers wrap around your throat. Not hard enough to crush your airway, but enough to hear the threat loud and clear.
âShut your damn mouth. For a smart girl, you say the dumbest things Iâve ever heard.â When you try to argue back, the grip on your throat only lets incoherent noises come out. A dark chuckle leaves Bo, âSee, Iâve been far too nice to you darlinâ. You need to remember who the fuck you belong to.â
Itâs almost shameful how instead of his words further fueling the flames of your anger, they serve to only fuel your desire.
Boâs hand moves to clamp down on the back of your neck and he spins you around. In an instant your bent over the arm of the couch, the weight at your neck keeping you pinned in place. Sometimes you forget how easily Bo can overpower you, and the sudden reminder causes something dark to stir deep inside you.
Metal clinks as the telltale sound of his belt being undone and his zipper being pulled down reaches your ears. Abruptly, your miniskirt is flipped up right before something tears. Air hitting your heated sex helps you deduce what exactly had just been torn. This is far from the first time itâs happened.
Boâs free hand wastes no time cupping your pussy. When you cry out at the contact, itâs muffled by the cushion pressing against your face. Bo curses when he feels how soaked you are for him already.
Without hesitation, his fingers find their way to your clit. Bo is far from gentle as he rubs the sensitive nub in fast circles. You try to buck, but his hold on you is too strong for you to get any relief from the friction.
Right when pleasure starts to build from his rough strokes, Bo pulls away. He simply chuckles at the pretty little whine of disappointment that leaves you.
âLike when I treat you like my slut, huh?â Bo shifts so you can feel the wide tip of his cock meet the entrance of your pussy. Once again, the lewd noises you make get muffled. Boâs hand moves to wrap in your hair so he can pull your head up.
âCanât hear you, sweetheart.â
âYes, oh god, pleaseâŠâ
âDonât plead to him, Iâm your God now.â
Words fail you as Bo thrusts into you so deep your vision falters. It is near painful as Bo doesnât let you adjust to his thick cock before pounding into you. All the pent-up jealousy that you caused Bo starts to break through. Nails bite into the skin at your hip as he holds you right where he wants you. Groaning loudly your lover is unrelenting. Every thrust of his hips is harder than the last.
Fabric bunches around your waist as Bo curves over your back to drive into you deeper. âYou were made for me darlinâ.â Curses rain from Boâs mouth when your inner walls quiver around him. âYouâre such a dirty fuckinâ slut for me.â
This is all so dirty, yet so right. Boâs tone is almost reverent. Heâs not mocking you but admiring how much of yourself you freely give to him, never asking for anything in return.
The loud sound of Boâs belt clanking while he fucks into you like a madman does little to cover the obscene noises in the room. Flesh hitting wet flesh echoes and makes your face heat. All you can taste, smell, hear, and feel is Bo. The act of being practically consumed by him was clawing at an animalistic part of your brain. Obviously, words arenât enough to comfort either of your unsubstantiated jealousy, so Bo will make you feel how much you affect him.
Craving release, you try to slither your hand in between your thighs. Before you can reach your throbbing clit a hard smack comes down on your ass. All you can manage is a pathetic whimper at the denial.
âIâm the only one thatâs allowed to touch you, got it?â When you merely moan, he smacks your ass even harder, âSay it!â
Panting you barely manage to squeeze the words out, âIâm yours, Bo! The only one I want to touch me is you.â
âSee? It ainât so hard now is it.â
Bo snakes his arm between you and the couch to descend on your clit. His fingers are rough as they draw out fast circles against the sensitive bud, eliciting moan after moan from your throat. Bo knows your body like itâs an instrument heâs perfected.
Each thrust is more erratic than the last. Pressure builds and builds inside you until you canât hold it back any longer. A particularly sharp thrust slams into you just right and makes your velvety walls tighten like a vice around Bo. You scream out his name as you let your body succumb to your orgasm.
The punishing speed of each thrust doesnât slow down in the slightest. Tears slide down your cheeks at the sheer intensity of it all. Your strong emotions arenât from you being upset but desperate. Boâs manhandling of you is driving you insane. His cock slams into you just right and his equal need made you crave more.
âCome inside me, baby. Please. I need it.â Your voice trembles as you plead, but the noise that comes out of Bo at your words is practically inhuman.
Bo rests his head on your neck as he rides through your ecstasy. âYouâre so goddamn perfect sweetheart.â His voice is laced with desperation as his hips begin to slightly stutter. Nothing made Bo feel closer to you than being in your pussy. It doesnât just stem from lust, but his craving for physical touch.
While growing up you both never got to feel a loving touch, so he wanted to show his love for you by making you feel good. Actions speak louder than words, and how can you stay mad when he held your body like youâre a slice of heaven?
A loud groan that gives you goosebumps wisps against your ear. You whimper when searing heat floods your pussy as Bo spills inside of you. Grunting, he pets the damp strands of hair out of your face.
âGood girl⊠take it all.â
You stay with his cock deep in your pussy until your legs begin to shake. Any ounce of energy you had was completely drained, making you feel no control over your limbs. Ever the perceptive one, Bo rubs your waist, âIâve got you darlinâ.â
Bo hauls your limp body from the arm of the couch and lays down on it with you on top of him. It feels like youâre a boat coasting on rough waves as each heave of his chest rocks you. An apt description when thatâs exactly how your emotions are feeling as well.
After a few moments, you find your voice, âYou know that flirting meant nothing to me, right?â The fingers at your waist tighten.
âI know.â
âThen why did you get all⊠possessive like that?â
Bo audibly sighs, âNo man likes another man thinkinâ they can touch whatâs his.â You crane your head up so you can look at Boâs face. When you fix him with a raised brow, he gives you a look of his own and shrugs his shoulders.
âBesidesâŠâ A devious smile grows on Boâs face, âI also know Iâve got you hooked darlinâ.â Just as youâre about to question him further, you let out a surprised moan when he slips his hard cock back into you.
âNow, let good olâ Bo show you how long he can fuck that pretty pussy of yours without gettinâ bored.â
Itâs safe to say you have a very long night ahead of you.
I thought it was too bold to wish to reach 1,000 followers before the end of the year... thank you so so so much for all the love and support. What a great way to end the year!
I just started writing and posting this year and Iâm so glad I took that leap of faith despite my anxieties about it :)Â
I always tell you guys Iâm working on stuff, but I wanted to share the specific fics Iâm currently working on.
All is Fair - Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader
summary: Arranged marriages are commonplace to keep peace in times of approaching war, but what happens when the people meant to be wed have a sorted history?
warnings: rough smut, fluffy aftercare, minor injury
Immortal She - Tommy Shelby x F!Reader
summary: Tommy Shelby becomes infatuated with the Solomons sister who has more lives than a cat and sharper wit than a whip.
summary: When a new group stumbles into town you catch the eye of one of the men with your tight outfit and sweet smile. Bo doesnât like it. Not one bit.
Crucible of Desire (VI) - Karl Heisenberg x F!Reader
summary: There is only one thing to do with a witch.
warnings: heavy angst, violence, injury, fluff, smut, possessive behavior
Etched in Blood - Simon âGhostâ Riley x F!Reader
summary: Love is more than skin-deep.
warnings: angst, mentions of past trauma, soft smut, fluff
When Iâm Gone - Captain John Price x F!Reader
summary: âNo strings attachedâ doesnât work when youâre madly in love.
warnings: major injury, slight gore, angst, possessive behavior, fluff, heavy petting, implied smut, happy ending
Old Habits - Kratos x F!Reader
summary: Kratos worked hard to change himself from the impulsive, angry man he once ones. However, old habits come to the surface when another man tries to take what's his.
summary: The duality of love and grief is something not only men, but Gods struggle to come to terms with. Fate is tested when this concept gets in the way of a destined pair.
warnings: slow-burn, angst, mentions of violence, injuries, fluff, heavy petting, love confessions, love triangles, smut, lore heavy
Friend or Foe - Heimdall x F!Reader
summary: Heimdall will always prove a point.
warnings: smut, established relationship, sparring, power imbalance, Heimdall being his smug self
Late Night Confessions - Lester Sinclair x F!Reader
summary: The youngest Sinclair was star-struck by you since the day you stumbled into Ambrose. Little does he know that youâve fallen for him as well.
warnings: heavy petting, over clothes smut, fluff, Bo being a dick
Iâm going to go dark again so I can get most of these finished because I get very easily distracted. Iâll probably only reappear to post a finished fic and dip right after to finish another one and repeat that cycle until I get these done.
summary: âAn extremely detailed description of different Peaky Blinders dicks.â Hex Color Codes, predictions of exact measurements, what sex would be like; basically, I went crazy with it once again.
warnings: pure debauchery, very much my own opinion
THIS WAS EVERYTHING! I loved this probably wayyy too much but oh my gosh, every character description was so on-point and also so indepth that I was truly frothing reading every single one of them. AN ABSOLUTE BLESSING đ„”đ€đœ
summary: âAn extremely detailed description of different [blank] dicks.â Hex Color Codes, predictions of exact measurements, and what sex would be like.
What Ghost Team Dicks Look Like
What Gravesâs and Königâs Dicks Look Like
What Peaky Blinders Dicks Look Like
What Slasher Dicks Look Like
Iâve been making too many of these for all of them not to be in one place. (Spoiler: Making one of these was already too many lol.)
summary: âAn extremely detailed description of different Peaky Blinders dicks.â Hex Color Codes, predictions of exact measurements, what sex would be like; basically, I went crazy with it once again.
warnings: pure debauchery, very much my own opinion
Arthur Shelby:
Height - 5âČ 9âł (1.75m)
Body Type - Lean, Taut MusclesÂ
Tip - #EEA091
Shaft - #FACCB0
Length - 6.4in (16.25cm)
Girth - 5.8in (14.73cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, hair is trimmed, one especially sensitive, one especially thick vein on the topside of his shaft near the base. Low balls.
Arthur has very well-rounded sex appeal. His cock is the perfect length, thickness, and a pretty color; heâs a nice height and his build is strong enough to carry you while also being a sight for soar eyes. This old dog has the stamina of a young man. Which in his case is a blessing and a curse because of all the trouble he gets himself into.Â
When Arthur first saw you, it was like an angel came down from the heavens to grace him with its presence. Heâs the type of man to think you can fix him and maybe you can. Not in all aspects but some. Arthur will always be boiling with violence and anger but the aura you give off when youâre around him calms his wild soul.
Say what you will, when Arthur falls in love with you, he falls IN LOVE with you. No more whores and still some but significantly less snow. Although he will need a good bit of convincing to stay home with you and not go out to the pub. The best tactic is to use your puppy eyes and pretty pout while wearing one of your thin nightgowns. Gets Arthur to his knees every time without fail.
He doesnât necessarily have a daddy kink, but he has a thing for showering you with affection and whispering sweet words through his gruff voice.
âCome on sweetheart. Let good olâ Arthur treat that pretty pussy of yours.â
Definitely loves eating you out the most. Arthur will always have a seat reserved for you on his face. His mustache tickles and his stubble gives a delicious bite that perfectly laces with the pleasure he is giving you with his skilled tongue. He moans into your pussy like itâs the best thing heâs ever tasted. Arthur tells you that you taste better than any liquor heâs ever drowned himself in.
Arthur has an unspoken praise kink. The way he groans and his cock throbs when you tell him how wonderful he makes you feel is all the evidence you need. All he wants to be is a good man. You have no problems with telling him as much. Especially he groans from deep in his chest and buries his face in your neck to leave sloppy kisses whenever you call him a âgood boyâ.
Despite his violent tendencies and strong emotions, Arthur will lavish you with sweetness. He may need extra reassurance, but how could you deny him when his favorite thing to do is sit by the fire with his head buried in your lap? (His second favorite thing to do is fuck you bent over the couch by the fire with his balls slapping your clit from the intensity of his thrusts.)
Tommy Shelby:
Height - 5âČ 8âł (1.72m)
Body Type - Wide, Strong
Tip - #F5B2A8
Shaft - #FAD1BB
Length - 7.5in (19.05cm)
Girth - 5.2in (13.20cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, clean-shaven, thin veins that are a deep purple on his shaft. Tilts upward, balls sit high.
Tommy Shelby is a possessive, all-consuming force of a man. He doesnât just simply date you but owns your body and soul. Property. His property. Itâs not as crude as it sounds when you put into perspective what he means by that single word. Youâre his to take care of, nurture, own, and cherish. Youâre not easily replaceable or easy to let go. Not that he ever would. The thought of another man laying a finger on you makes his jaw clench and blood boil.
Sometimes you like to test his patience and resolve though. Tommy leaves you by your lonesome for so long that you begin to become bratty. Youâll talk back, give him the cold shoulder, or even flirt with someone in his office. Big mistake.
âNeed I remind you of your place? I have no qualms fuckinâ the attitude right out of you, love.â
Tommy will bend you over his lap in his office to deal out punishment. He doesnât care that there are people outside and the door is unlocked, you need to learn that testing his patience never ends nicely for anybody (if you acquiesce fervently enough, youâre usually the exception).
Cock-warming under his desk and on his lap are his guiltiest pleasures. On more than one occasion Tommy has gone through a meeting with his huge cock stuffed down your throat. He doesnât falter on a single word; even when drool slides down his shaft as you struggle to swallow around his thickness. The second the person leaves his hands dive into your hair to fuck your mouth. Other times when you keep whining about not getting enough attention Tommy will sit in his chair with you impaled on his cock while he works. It doesnât matter how much you mewl for him to move. Youâll cum get to cum when he says you can.
âGood girl⊠take all of it. Such a lovely tight cunt.â
Tommy is the KING of dirty talk. The things he whispers huskily in your ear are absolutely filthy. He wants to make sure you know how much he wants you. Words, touches, and gifts are never lacking when youâre with Tommy. Anything is never too much for his girl.
He secretly loves when you take charge in and out of the bedroom. Thereâs an authoritative side of you that comes out in serious situations. The night Tommy saw you beat a man bloody for coming onto a woman who kept telling pushing the man away, he had no doubt in his mind that he loved you. Heated arguments end with Tommy on his back with you riding him with your hands wrapped around his neck. Sometimes he liked giving the burdens of control to someone else for at least a night.
Being with Tommy is dangerous, but the pros far outweigh the cons. Thankfully because of his reputation every single person in Birmingham knows better than to mess with you. The bolder few will quickly face the end of Tommyâs gun.
John Shelby:
Height - 5âČ 11âł (1.80m)
Body Type - Muscular
Tip - #EFB0B0
Shaft - #F3C8B1
Length - 6.1in (15.49cm)
Girth - 5.0in (12.7cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, clean-shaven, very smooth, and even-toned. Tilts to the right.
Heâs the youngest and the funniest of the Shelby brothers by a long shot. Heâll drink you under the table but heâll also carry you home and help take care of your raging hangover the next day. John and your marriage is by far the healthiest and the happiest out of everyone. Itâs like you both are stuck in the honeymoon phase.
âYou like when I fill you with my cum, baby?â Each tease is whispered affectionately and through a gentle smirk. âMy lovely wife is such a whore for her husbandâs cock.â
You truly are though. Any chance you get your throwing yourself into Johnâs arms (the feeling is wholeheartedly mutual). The man will pin you onto any available wall and fuck the sense out of you. Anytime youâre drunk he canât resist the pretty blush that spread across your cheeks and the way you practically melt into him. It doesnât take long for you to lose all inhibitions when it comes to a quickie in the alleyway next to The Garrison.
John has a very vocal breeding kink. Every time he fills you with his cock, he groans about how heâs going to pump you full of his cum and make you his forever. Nothing turns him on more than stuffing any cum that leaks from your pussy back into you with his fingers. Itâs primal and sloppy, yet strangle intimate at the same time.
It doesnât take long for you to get pregnant but when you do, John finds you even more attractive. No matter how many kids you have together, your husband is insatiable for you. Tommy often jokes that the two of you, âfuck like rabbitsâ. A true statement when you always seem to be knocked up.
His favorite position is the mating press for obvious reasons. Not only does the position bottom out his sizeable cock in your pussy, but it leaves you at his mercy. John is so tall and muscular that it makes you feel tiny under him. Youngest does not mean weakest. Not by a long shot.
Youâre the reason for John to get up and fight to strengthen the family name every day. Although itâs not always so serious. John has a charming sense of humor that has you giggling like youâre a young girl again. Want to settle down and have a family with a husband who adores you more than anything else? John Shelby is the man to be with.
Michael Gray:
Height - 5âČ 7âł (1.70m)
Body Type - Lean
Tip - #DF968B
Shaft - #EBC1AA
Length - 5.7in (14.47cm)
Girth - 4.6in (11.68cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, hair is trimmed, grower not a shower. Sits pretty straight when erect, if not slightly down.
Talk about being two completely different people. Michael is an entirely different man when itâs just the two of you. Heâs sweetly seductive and itâs a toss-up for who truly had the power in the relationship. Although in the bedroom Michael is very dominant. You give him a sense of power he doesnât have in the Peaky Blinders.
The man has a corruption kink he wasnât even aware he had before meeting you. He was enamored by your innocence when he met you at another dull socialite party. When during your conversation he makes a salacious comment to you and you respond by saying youâve never laid with a man before, his cock instantly grows uncomfortably hard in his nice trousers.
Despite his extreme attraction toward you heâll âwine and dineâ you first. Michael will take you to fancy dinners and shows and let you know the facets of his job. He woos you with gifts and tender nights in his bed. Whatever it takes to make you his, he will do it.
âTell me, love. Do you enjoy having me wrapped around that pretty finger of yours?â Loves to say this while kissing each one of your knuckles and losing himself in your eyes.
Itâs the truth. Youâre the only person whose interests outweigh his own. He knows your nature. He sees the twin flame burning in your soul that calls out for you to be near him, to be claimed by him.
Michael loves to dress you up. Whenever you need to get ready for an event Michael will pick out your dress and accessories and help you put them on. His hands always linger while they trail across your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses in their wake. Youâre the envy of every man and woman wherever he takes you with your arm draped in his.
He has a thing for fucking you while you only wear high heels, pantyhose, and expensive jewelry. To him youâre perfection. Michael loves watching a proper lady like yourself become a droopy-eyed mess on his cock. All because of him and no one else. You make Michael feel special like heâs a capable man.
Teasing is commonplace in the bedroom. Michael likes to push you to the edge of desire before pulling you back. He needs to hear you beg for it. More often than not youâll find yourself bent over a hard surface with Michael pounding into you like a beast, grunting like one too.
Michael is eager to prove himself and his strength, but itâs all because he wants to give you the best life possible.
Alfie Solomons:
Height - 5âČ 9âł (1.75m)
Body Type - Muscular Dad BodÂ
Tip - #D99792
Shaft - #E7BAA8
Length - 6.8in (17.27cm)
Girth - 6.3in (16.00cm)
Details - Circumcised (heâs Jewish), unkempt like his beard while being only slightly trimmed, thick raised veins on his shaft. Tilts to the upward, huge balls.
Alfie is an aggressive lover in all facets of your relationship. Heâs aggressive in the sense that he often yells passionately in an argument about your safety which leads to rough sex on the closest surface he can get you.
âIf anyone even slightly raises their voice to you, Iâll cut their cunty tongue out and feed it to their fuckinâ dog, yeah?â
The man has the mouth of a sailor, the rants of a madman, the aggression of a wild animal, the intellect of an ambitious businessman, and the cock of a God. Equal parts thick and long, Alfie stretches you full and leaves an aching reminder of his cock for a week.
He may not soften his words in the slightest, but he does say sweet sentiments to you very often. When you both are alone, whether that be on a walk with Cyril (who absolutely adores you), at home, or in his office, Alfie likes to gently hold your hand. Alfie will stroke your cheek with his thumb before moving down to take your hand in his, marveling at how small you are compared to him, how fragile. The thought makes his heart lurch and ache in a way no one was able to do in years.
âWhat on Godâs green bloody earth did I do to get such a beautiful thing like you in my fuckinâ bed.â
What he did was charm your panties off. You met Alfie when he came into his office after seeing an advert in the newspaper by a bakery that needed a female baker. The real bakery that actually sold white and brown bread. He still remembers every detail of the pretty pink dress you were wearing and the way you smiled when you reached a gloved hand out to introduce yourself. Maybe you were the real charmer between the two of you. Itâs safe to say Alfie was smitten with you the second his eyes landed on your innocent face.
A face that he loves so much that he only fucks you in positions where he can see it. Missionary and cowgirl are Alfieâs personal favorites. The way your tits bounce and face scrunches when his cock is buried in you makes the man an absolute wreck. Think he curses too much during the day? In the bedroom, he is unhinged, loud, and curses enough to even make a mobster blush.
Another pussy eating king. Alfie likes to hoist your legs over his broad shoulders and watch you from between your legs while he eats you out. His facial hair intensifies the fevered pace in which he sucks your pussy and his nose rubs against your clit to give you toe-curling friction.
At the end of the day, Alfie loves you more than anything and will never hesitate to protect you. No questions asked. One time he beat a man bloody with his cane just because he was standing to you a little too close while flirting with you. He respects your autonomy, but no one should even as much as look at his woman funny.
Luca Changretta:
Height - 6âČ 1âł (1.85m)
Body Type - Lanky, Taut Muscles
Tip - #FEBFAE
Shaft - #FFD4B7
Length - 7.8in (19.81cm)
Girth - 5.1in (12.95cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, hair is trimmed and slightly curly, has one thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft and a couple blue hued thin ones. Hangs low.
I WANT THIS MAN SO BAD, HE IS SO-
Fate had you thrown into Luca Changrettaâs world after he came to your shop to have a dress made for his mother. By the time you finish it, Luca gets not only a nice gift but a woman to call his. Youâre the type of girl to take home to mom and to say his mother loves you is an understatement. He thinks your heaven-sent, the Beatrice to his Dante. Luca will not hesitate to travel through the depths of hell to get you.
Power and daddy kink to the MAX. Luca needs the power dynamic in your relationship. He needs to be the one to pay for your pretty outfits and nice apartment nestled in a secret corner of the city. He needs you to rely on him. Thatâs not to say he stops you from making dresses or having your own friends. One of his men will just be following you from a distance the whole time youâre out. Luca is just the type of man to give in to all your whims while only asking for your company and affection in return.
âMy spoiled little principessa... show Daddy just how much you missed him.â
Luca isnât the type of man to rush into things. That not only applies to his mentality in the mob but in his sex life. He loves a soft, slow blowjob. His hands thread through your hair not to dictate your moves but to message your scalp tenderly as you take his cock so beautifully. Each slow drag of your lips along his shaft makes a satisfied rumbling noise emanate from Lucaâs chest. His eyes never leave you for a second. Heâs hypnotized by the way your eyebrows slightly pinch when his long cock slips down your throat and the way your thighs clamp shut to soothe the ache of your own arousal from sucking him off.
He loves when you ride him on the couch but it often devolves into him fucking up into you from the bottom. Luca is always in control. Another position he loves is missionary with your legs folded so your shoulders are near your ears. The angle of your hips helps his impossibly long cock bottom out in your tight pussy. Luca wants you to be completely consumed by him, filled to a point where all you can do is moan his name like a prayer.
Intimacy is extremely important. Your lips are practically locked together while he is fucking you. The only time he pulls back is so he can look down at his soaked cock disappearing into your pussy. The man is obsessed with you. Every noise and expression you make, every touch you give, every word you say drives Luca mad.
He ALWAYS leaves a wet, reverent kiss on your pussy before fucking you. Itâs his thing. Luca wants you to understand that he doesnât just fuck you, but makes raw, unadulterated love to you.
Luca has men stationed outside your apartment at all times. Nothing is too much when it comes to your safety. Heâs a family man through and through. Luca will make you his wife after going through the proper channels and will make it his mission to get you pregnant. Heâll pump you full of his cum until youâre a whining mess. Afterward, he likes to lay in bed with you wrapped in his arms and his cock buried in your pussy.
Youâre his just as much as heâs yours. In simple terms, youâre whatâs going to hurt him the most.
Oswald Mosley:
Height - 5âČ 11âł (1.80m)
Body Type - Defined Muscles
Tip - #DE847E
Shaft - #E9BDA0
Length - 6.5in (16.51cm)
Girth - 4.9in (12.44cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, clean-shaven, thick tip. Tilts to the left, hefty yet nicely rounded balls.
No description for obvious reasons.
Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.
a/n: People LOVE to fight me on height, but I looked up each and every actorâs height for this so it is what it is! When you look at the brothers together itâs actually pretty obvious that John is taller than the other two.
Finished reading the dick hcs for CoD and slashers and all I need to know is, please tell me there's a GoW one in the works?? Kratos and Thor have got me in a fucking chokehold rn đ”âđ«đ”âđ«đ”âđ«
Maybe... and by maybe I mean, how did you know my thirsty ass was researching for one already lol
I'm in the very beginning stages of a Resident Evil and God of War one right now! There are a lot of characters I want to do from both so it'll take a hot minute especially since I'm in the middle of writing a bunch of other stuff :)
summary: Two lost souls find comfort in each otherâs company.
warnings:Â slow-burn, falling in love, angst, fluff, bedsharing, lore heavy
a/n: This is a teaser of a scene between the reader and Kratos in the giant fic, âOf Gods and Menâ that Iâm writing. This is my âproof of conceptâ for you guys that Iâm actually working on it. (The reader is OC in regards to some characteristics, but skin color is not specified.)
ââŠThere is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the loverâs whisper, irresistibleâmagic to make the sanest man go mad.â - Homer, The Iliad
Voices ignite like fueled flames outside Kratosâs bedroom as someone enters Sindriâs home. Not just anyone can stir up that much ruckus though. The arrival of Kratos always elicited a flurry of questions and action. Despite your want to check on the god you donât move from your supine position on the hard bed.
You continue to count the cracks in the ceiling above as if the number you came up with would unearth some deep truth within yourself. Time became a foreign concept as you tried to convince your body to relax. Sleep is elusive to you despite your mindâs craving for rest. Sindri told you, just as he did Atreus, that sleeping would make all the troubles of your mind work themselves out. Easier said than done.
Thatâs how you find yourself on a bed thatâs not yours. One that youâve only slept in once but couldnât forget the feeling of. The furs below smell of him, earthy with notes of smoke and musk that remind you of the lush jungles in your home realm of Vanaheim.
Home.
It had been centuries since the last time you felt the security of such an ideal. To the dismay of your fickle heart, you felt that sense of contentment that comes with being home merely weeks ago in the arms of another. Someone you tried to remind yourself you couldnât have. Someone who, like you, made a pact to never let themselves be kept in mind or body to another again.
-
Itâs strange how night devolved hardened hearts into feeling such soft vulnerability. Memories have a way of burrowing deep in the brains of even those who try to forget. Youâre sitting at the dining table in front of the roaring furnace. The warmth doesnât completely stave off the coldness that stems from more than just the weather.
Sindriâs home is filled with a rare stillness, but it only works to grate on your nerves rather than bring you peace. Solace is nearly impossible to find in a world full of gods and men. Throw in the endless monsters and magic, and the notion is nothing but a fantasy for the whimsical. That you are not.
Your head darts up when a large shadow appears across the table. Wood groans as Kratos settles in the seat. Itâs not often that the two of you get to sit in each otherâs company alone without having other things on your mind like hunting or survival. The gripes of being a god and goddess in the opposition to the All-Father are endless.
âCanât sleep either?â
Kratos grunts in response as he reaches for the pitcher of mead abandoned in the middle of the table. He fills the large tankard next to it to the brim before putting the pitcher back down with a weighty thump. You watch transfixed as Kratosâs adamâs apple bobs with each pull he takes from the cup.
The veins in his neck bulge and when some droplets of mead spill from the corners of his mouth, you canât help but trail their path down his beard. For a moment you forget what was keeping you up in the first place.
âSomething troubles you.â
A statement, not a question.
âIâm fine, Kratos. My woes matter not.â You feign indifference as you lean back in your chair, like his notice of your mood doesnât make your heart leap in your chest.
Kratos leans forward, his hulking form hovering over some of the table, âSpeak the truth, woman.â The word woman comes out in a growl, lingering with a threat that would never be followed through. Yet, itâs still effective enough to make you give in.
Your eyes move to focus on the expertly crafted wooden surface under your hands. Calmness is common nature for you, but something about Kratosâs piercing gaze makes you fumble to find words. Dryness coats your mouth as if your body was cursed to not utter your torment.
âI had a twin sister once. Her name was Hnoss, everyone always said we were identical, but I still think she was prettier. SheâŠâ
When your voice begins to crack you stop. Emotions youâve suppressed for hundreds of years come bubbling to the surface. Thinking about your sister was one thing, but voicing it out loud made it all too real again. Like sheâs not what haunts your dreams, but the young girl you once played in ponds and climbed trees with.
âGo on.â
The earnestness makes you chance a glance up. A small, sad smile curves your lips at the sight of Kratosâs focus trained on you. He may not say much, but he always listened. No wonder Mimir didnât mind being stuck with the man.
âShe often went to Bifröst, a rainbow bridge that reaches between Midgard and Asgard, hoping to run into our father. People predicted that Hnoss would reunite our parents. Alas, hope is not always enough to alter reality.â
Kratos slides his tankard toward you, giving you a moment of reprieve without a word. Picking it up, you swirl the amber ale with a twinge of bitterness. Normally you would say gods made pitiful fathers. That was until you met Kratos and Atreus.
The god makes a habit of surpassing expectations.
Sending a quick prayer to the lost goddess mother of Vanaheim you take a giant swig of the mead. Soft notes of bready malt accompany aromatics with a musty, oaky finish coats your tongue. A clicking noise escaped through your teeth as you cringe at the overpowering taste.
The sound of Kratos humming in approval grounds you from your wandering thoughts. You nod at him in appreciation before taking a steadying breath and continuing,
âDuring her visits, there was a god by the name of Heimdall who kept watch over the rainbow bridge that would entertain her with stories of old and new. One day he revealed to Hnoss that he possessed night vision and never slept. He also claimed to have existed since the beginning of time and told her tales about the creation of various things.
While our father remained absent, Hnoss was taken to Baldur's Stead to comfort her in her sorrow since it was believed to be a place where healing occurred. Baldurâs wife Nanna would often cradle her during these times of profound need. One time in particular, with Nanna by her side, Hnoss shared a strange dream she had about Queen Hela, a queen who was half living woman and half corpse. In her dream, Hela entered Asgard and declared âA lord of the Aesir I must have to dwell with me in my realm beneath the earth.â Hnoss was paralyzed by fear after experiencing this dream.â
You take another swig from the tankard before handing it back to Kratos. Obsidian eyes stay locked on you as their owner downs the rest of its contents.
âWhat happened to your sister?â
âHnoss was never the same after that. They say that those who use seidr magic will eventually succumb to the evils of its art. Unfortunately for her, it was true. Similar to Baldur, she died a needless death.â
And just like all of the Vanir people. Many of their lives were taken by the power-hungry Aesir for no other reason than greed. Peace in these realms always comes at a price.
âSo thatâs why Iâm troubled, Kratos. Now my own dreams are filled by her. No matter how hard I try to forget.â
Kratos hums in acknowledgment, âI too know the pain of losing a sibling.â
Comfortable silence hangs between the two of you for a couple of minutes. The time is filled with unspoken understanding lined with a sense of melancholy.
âDrink.â
Kratos seems to present a bottle of wine out of nowhere but you donât hesitate to accept it. Not even gods are above drinking their sorrows away. Another pitcher of mead and bottle of wine later and youâre drunk. Loose-lipped, fumbled-word, soft-legged drunk.
Youâre currently giggling like a fool as you lean against the bedroom door simply staring at Kratos while he sits on his bed. When you started to create too much of a ruckus in the living room he took into his room since you refused to leave his side. Youâd slap yourself in the forehead for that fact the following days later.
âCome.â
Your feet move before your mind can fully process the command. Itâs as if your body is compelled to obey him without hesitation. The idea goes against everything you stand for. You ran from the one home youâd ever known and the one man that ever truly loved you, because of your refusal to submit to any man or god. Thankfully, the mead-fueled haze creeping into your brain keeps you from spiraling any further.
Kratos tilts his head to look up at you as you stand between his thick legs. A lazy smile spreads across your face and before you can think you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Although he captures your wrist, he doesnât pry you away. Tentatively, your thumb rubs small circles into the rough flesh.
For a moment he indulges in your touch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smell like vanilla with a citrus charge of tangerine and cinnamon. Something tantalizingly sweet, forbidden.
A rumbling noise emanates from Kratosâs chest when your thumb ghosts along the scar on his right eye. You wonder how he got the nasty slice. What god put it there many years ago. Unfortunately, Kratos is still a mystery to you. Bits and pieces of his life are shared sparingly through short stories during long journeys, but nothing else beyond that.
Nothing else beyond that. The four words ring in your ears. What are you doing? Itâs not your right to be in his room, near his bed, and touching him of all things. You are companions, sure. Friends? Maybe. But partners? Nothing of the sort.
Any semblance of tipsiness you had quickly evaporates, âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have-â You stop when Kratos brings his other hand to your hip, squeezing lightly.
âNo need to explain. Not to me.â
Your hand drops when he moves to lay on his side on the bed. Kratos scoots back until his back is against the wall.
âLay.â
When you hesitate, he pats the small space in front of him in an almost comedic fashion due to his large size, âLay, agĂĄpiâ
The word he calls you is spoken in a language youâve never heard before, but he says it with such tenderness that it makes you slide into the bed. You start to think youâve been sleeping this whole time when Kratos wraps a thick arm around your waist to pull you flush against his front. After three years of pining, youâre in the arms of the man you admired. The sudden realization is almost too much.
âWill you tell me a story from your homeland?â
Kratosâs silence at your abrupt question makes you huff out a laugh. Butterflies were swarming in your belly and if you didnât do something about them you would never fall asleep.
Was it childish for you to ask for a bedtime story? Perhaps. But this might be the last time you get to have Kratos to yourself like this. You gently nudge him with your leg. It doesnât even slightly jostle the mountain of a man, but it does keep his attention.
âCome on! An old man like yourself must know hundreds.â
After a beat, Kratos sounds almost bashful if that emotion was even possible for the god, âThereâs this⊠poem.â
âWhatâs it about?
âA cunning general and a war over forbidden love.â
Ironic.
âIs it based on truth?â
âYes, but I prefer the poem.â
You giggle at the displeasure lacing his tone.
âCan you recite a line for me?â
Kratos grunts at the way your tired eyes have you looking at him through your lashes. Youâre the picture of innocence and natural beauty. It stirs something inside him thatâs laid dormant for years. He would say Aphroditeâs beauty paled in comparison to yours, but youâre more than that. Youâre a beauty beyond comparison wrapped in a warm light.
âI wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals, and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind, that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.â
You twist your head to the side to look back at Kratos. The darkness in the room keeps his features hidden yet you still canât help but smile. A truly genuine, happy smile despite the small crookedness from your drunken state.
âWow⊠I think thatâs the most Iâve ever heard you say in one breath. Didnât think you were one for lovely words.â
Kratos makes a low noise in his throat, contemplating for a moment if letting you in his room, in his bed, was really a good idea. When you suddenly snuggle back into his front, he doesnât move a muscle. Your soft and warm against the hard expanse of his chest. The word âcomfortingâ comes to the forefront of his mind but he tries his best to suppress the feeling.
Only to fail when you open your mouth again.
âThe totality of emotions can either make or break a man. Let them in, Kratos.â Your voice oozes drowsiness encompassed by a softness you saved for his son Atreus. Itâs an inflection filled with sweet sincerity and motherly care.
When a light snore reaches his ears, Kratos looks down at your face. Youâre already sound asleep. His arms tighten a fraction before letting himself close his eyes. He told himself it was just for a night.
Itâs never that simple.
For long seconds after you woke up the next morning you took in the sleeping manâs face. His features were free of stressed lines and his usual frown. Kratos looked even more handsome under the lull of sleep.
His arms were secured around you like a lifeline. It wasnât a loverâs embrace, but the comfort of another personâs body aiding you both into a dreamless sleep. Although, it would be a lie if you said your heart didnât flutter when you woke up to his face buried in your neck, the scruff of his beard making your skin prickle and heat.
You managed to slip out of the bed without waking the beast of a man. A feat when he held you so tight. When you made it to the door you chanced one more look back at Kratos, a heaviness settling inside you. For days youâll blame your abrupt intimacy on you both drinking, but it would take oceans of alcohol to muddy the godâs mind.
Kratos never said anything about that night; never said that you helped him have the first truly peaceful sleep in his lifetime.
-
The sane part of your brain is cursing you for laying in Kratosâs bed like a loyal dog waiting for its master. Especially when he gave you no inkling that your presence was wanted. Youâre so lost in your thoughts that you flinch when the door opens.
Kratos doesnât falter at your uninvited presence as he shuts the bedroom door with a heavy sigh. You sit up on his bed as he takes off his armor with rough hands, letting the items loudly clank to the floor with little care. The blades go first, then his cuffs, and the axe.
Concern fills you at his sullen state. Emotions can only be bottled up for so long and Kratos was an expert at doing just that. You know he doesnât want your help, but he needed it more than heâll ever admit.
âYou carry your burdens with you in mind and hand.â Your eyes trail to his Blades of Chaos on the floor. They act as physical reminders of the pain and suffering he caused not only strangers and gods, but the ones he loved the most.
âWhat do you know of carrying burdens?â His voice is gruff, but not fueled with malice.
âDonât you remember that night?â
Guilt washes over Kratosâs features as remembrance dawns on him. The furrow of his brows and the twitch of his jaw is evidence enough. Sighing, you scoot to the edge of the bed, âI will not claim to understand your suffering Kratos, but I do know what it means to be lost. To follow your path while being confused as to why you must. To wonder why you get to live when they donât.â
Kratosâs shoulders are visibly tense as you stare up at him. Standing up, an idea pops into your head that is so outlandish that you whisper it in hopes that he doesnât completely hear it.
âFor just one night give your burdens to me. Let me take care of you, Kratos. Someone needs to. Let that someone be me.â
A part of you doesnât think but knows he will reject you. Especially when those eyes filled with shadows stare at yours unblinking and unwavering in their passivity. Who were you to ask for something so personal?
A love-sick fool, thatâs who.
Every fiber of your being is pulled toward Kratos, but that doesnât mean the feeling is mutual. Dejection washes over you at your boldness fueled by foolish hope. Right when youâre going to walk away, Kratos clears his throat.
âOkay.â
You blink at him like a small child would at the sight of a giant bear. Odin himself must have been playing a trick on you because you canât believe that Kratos just accepted your proposition. For a solid minute, you stay standing with your chests inches apart.
Heat blooms in your cheeks as you become acutely aware of your closeness. Every deep breath he takes causes his taut stomach to brush against you. Your neck starts to feel the strain of having to crane back to make eye contact with him.
âDo I need to speak in even simpler words?â Kratosâs deep voice snaps you out of your gawking. Never had a man made you feel like a mere mortal; let alone make you like the idea of being overpowered.
âI-â You clear your throat, finally letting the air dense with an unspoken tension fill your lungs, âN-no.â
Unconsciously, you rub your hands on your trousers and take a deep breath to steady yourself. âSit on the bed.â
Kratos follows your command without question. Carefully, you crawl behind him on the bed and prop yourself on your knees. The skin under your hands tenses when you bring them up to rest on his shoulders.
âRelax. I mean you no harm. I swear.â
Your voice is just above a whisper and laced with sincerity. You begin to knead the endless knots that harden Kratosâs shoulders. The endless burdens he carries on his back would crush any mortal. When Kratos lets out a satisfied groan you have to bite your lip to stifle out a noise of your own.
Nowâs not the time to start frothing at the mouth.
Instead of letting yourself turn into a pathetic puddle of suppressed desire, you opt to continue your efforts to comfort.
âWe will get to Asgard. Atreus was raised by a strong man. I know he is doing more than fine.â
âA strong man perhaps, but not a noble one.â
Your thumbs travel down to press into the rigid flesh of his shoulder blades while you scoff.
âWhat does it mean to be noble? You are strong, courageous, watchful, full of wisdom, and give astute instruction. Those are very noble traits.â
Kratos shakes his head, âYou do not know the extent of my sins.â
You sigh at the persistence of his inadequacy. How could he not see that his obvious guilt was the biggest indicator of his good heart? Your hands move to his bulky chest to lightly rub the muscles.
âWe are more than the sum of our parts, Kratos. Bad deeds cannot be undone, but what we do after is what matters most. We must be better, work harder, and do whatever it takes to keep the realms from falling into chaos.â
At your words, Kratos takes hold of your wrists, âWhere did you hear that?â
âI heard that from centuries of living. From reaching the lowest I could possibly go and coming out of it stronger than I was before.â
You move so youâre next to his side and only hesitate for a fraction of a second before you bring a hand to his cheek. Kratos doesnât resist as you turn his head with the gentle guidance of your palm. Instinctively your thumb gently rubs back and forth against his rough flesh. The gesture feels different than the last time. Itâs more intimate, rawer.
âYouâre a good man, father, and friend, but if you continue to let the past dictate your future you will never see that for yourself.â You bring your other hand up to rest on the middle of his chest, âOpen your heart. I promise it will only serve to make you stronger, not weaker.â
The way Kratos is looking into your eyes leaves you breathless. Itâs almost like heâs seeing you for the first time. Not your outward appearance, but the depths of your soul.
Unlike usual, the silence that fills the room is stifling. So much so that your skin begins to heat, a humid tension that rivals Vanaheim hanging in the air. Maybe you said too much. Maybe youâre silly for spewing your opinions to a man who didnât ask for them. Maybe this is what it feels like to love someone thatâs out of your grasp.
Dejected by your imprudence you leave him with one last thought, âThe totality of emotions can either make or break a man. What will it do to you?â
When you try to climb off the bed, one of Kratosâs hands shoots out to grab your bicep.
âWhere are you going, woman.â
His voice is deep and reminds you of the forcefulness of booming thunder. One that shakes you more than Thor could ever make. Swallowing thickly, you advert your eyes to the ground, âI donât want to disturb you any further.â
âStay.â
Without another word, you let Kratos slowly pull you down on the bed. Half of your body lays on him as he rests his chin on your head. He feels safe and solid, protecting and proud. If only he can see what you see. If only he can feel what you feel.
You let yourself indulge in being in Kratosâs arms just like before and close your eyes. In seconds your body relaxes. Exhaustion mixed with the tidal wave of emotions youâve gone through makes the perfect sedative.
Kratos watches your breathing slow as you go lax on his chest. He canât help but admire you in the secrecy of your sleep.
The light shining through the window casts a glowing effect on your long locks, making it seem as though a halo is over your head. Your hair reminds him of the sunsets in Sparta, golden and awe-inspiring. More than that you remind him of that comforting feeling that comes with being where one belongs.
Home.
When Kratos grunts at the absurdity of his thoughts, the noise causes your leg around his hip to tighten. He carefully traces your spine with the tips of his thick fingers. Youâre so small and fragile in his hold, like a mouse cuddling in a bearâs den during a frigid winter despite the looming danger.
Youâre unlike any goddess heâs met before; calm, kind of heart, strong, and free from the chains of greed that comes with a being with that kind of power. You told Kratos to open his heart and be better for the future. Only one other woman told him those exact words.
âThe culmination of love is grief. And yet we love despite the inevitable; we open our hearts to it. To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you have opened it to me and you will find every reason to keep living in it.â
An epiphany hits Kratos so hard that it causes him to hold you tighter to his chest.
5'10 IS NOT SHORT WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT
are... are you 5'10" anon...
- sincerely, your local 5'6" writer
(5'10" energy means those guys who are super height insecure and round up to 6'0" to make themselves feel better lol So no, I don't think 5'10" is short and I would sacrifice a small child to be that height.)
PERSONALITY WISE HE DOES GIVE 5'10 ENERGY. Graves has little man syndrome and I'm glad you recognize that anon. (Thank you for inspiring me to make this meme lol)
Unfortunately, he seems to be the same height as Soap. When doing the heights I watched clips of them all together to see who is taller than who and based it on Price's confirmed height of 6'3". Maybe he's a little more like 6'1" though.
An extremely detailed description of Phillip Graves dick. Hex Color Codes, predictions of exact measurements, what sex would be like - if you write for him please?
If not, that's ok, I understand. Thank you so much â€ïž
warnings:Â pure debauchery, very much my own opinion
a/n: I'm an avid Graves hater, but for you anon... enjoy. (Someone also asked about König so I did him as well)
Phillip Graves:
Height - 6' 2" (1.88m)
Body Type - Lean, Toned
Tip - #D89E93
Shaft - #EAB9A7
Length - 6.8in (17.27cm)
Girth - 4.7in (11.93cm)
Details - Circumcised, hair is trimmed, and has a mixture of thick and small veins. Tilts left.
On the outside, Graves may seem like a vanilla type of man, but he is anything but. As the CEO of Shadow Company, he is someone who commands respect from those under him. And you best believe that youâre going to be under him in a multitude of ways.
His cock, just like Shadow Company, gets the job done. Gravesâs length and girth are the right sizes to give you a slight stretch without discomfort if youâre given the time to adjust. Although, the man is not at all the slow type.
Your relationship with Graves is based on a dominant and submissive dynamic. Not that you give into his orders easily. You like to test Gravesâs patience in the bedroom and out on the field, and he loves nothing more than to punish you for it.
âDo I need to remind you who you answer to? Maybe my cock can fix that loud mouth of yours.â
Speaking of mouth, Graves will use your throat as his personal cock sleeve. Youâre quickly taught how to master breath control. Gravesâs favorite version of you is when your swollen lips are leaking saliva around his cock and your face is mucked by tears. He absolutely experiences dacryphilia; the sight of you completely wrecked ticks a part of him no one else ever has.
Graves is an extremely busy man so you come accustomed to quickies but when there is time, he uses it to test your limits. Expect to be tied, spanked, choked, and completely at the mercy of your Commander. Since you met each other when you joined Shadow Company, your relationship is kept under lock and key. Thankfully the nature of your job makes the bruises around your body easily dismissible.
He might be demanding, but at the end of the day, youâre his. Donât be alarmed when someone on the team is promptly dismissed after being a little too forward with you. Graves watches your back like itâs his own, and will annihilate anyone who tries to harm you.
König:
Height - 6âČ 3Âœ" (1.91m)
Body Type - Muscular, Thick Muscles
Tip - #D78F88
Shaft - #F2C9B5
Length - 8.5in (21.59cm)
Girth - 6.0in (15.24cm)
Details - Uncircumcised, clean-shaven, and has one thick vein that runs from the base to the middle upper side of his shaft. Tilts upwards, hefty balls.
König is sugar, spice, and everything nice. He knows how to be saccharine sweet, but also perfectly rough whenever the occasion calls for it. Heâs tall, big, and oh so eager. Do you see the front of his pants? The man is packing more heat than his gun. Although, König is the type to undersell himself. Itâs to the point that when you saw his cock for the first time you were so shocked that your mouth literally fell open.
His cock is pale with a pleasing shade of blush pink at the tip. When you tell him how pretty it is the groan that he lets out in response is guttural. König is not used to such adoration, but he craves it when it comes from you. He definitely has a praise kink and youâre more than happy to shower him with sweet words and tender caresses.
König is stricter than Ghost when it comes to covering his face. His veil always stays in place and anytime he is using his mouth on you (which is quite often) he blindfolds you. At first, you find it strange, but his skillful tongue quickly melts any coherent thoughts your brain could possibly have.
One of his favorite games to play with you is a âhigh stakesâ version of hide and go seek. Itâs high stakes in the sense that if König finds you before time runs out, he gets to do anything he wants to you. The adrenaline that comes from being hunted by such a skillful military contractor makes the sex afterward simply explosive. Sometimes heâs extremely stealthy in his approach to finding you, but other times he likes to taunt and tease you.
âCome out my Prinzessin. Let me worship you.â
The size difference between the two of you is insane. Königâs nickname âprincessâ for you is so fitting since heâs like a giant dragon thatâs keeping you for himself. Although, you wouldnât mind being stuck with him in a giant fortress.
Because of his past, König is extremely sympathetic to your feelings and is not only a lover but a friend. He may look intimidating on the outside, but heâs truly a softie on the inside. This man is more than happy to be your shoulder to cry on and is definitely the type to cuddle you during your period and give you gentle massages.
Emotional vulnerability is crucial in a relationship with König, so if youâre looking for a rock, he is literally and figuratively the right guy.
Whatâs your header image of yur master list from?
It's Cassandra's tarot card from the game "Dragon Age Inquisition"! My whole account is themed after her (my profile picture, the quote above my bio, and my pinned post). Dragon Age is one of my favorite game franchises of all time.
The last picture is a collage of other characters' tarot cards that I use as the wallpaper on my computer :)
gummygunk
theartofmadeline
janainaart
titsay
jacobvanloon
kaledo-art
snowghoul
