PLZ WRITE MORE KRATOS X READER THERE ARENT ENOUGH FICS ABT HIM
𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒
| synopsis; Kratos is sent by Hephaestus to retrieve a weapon from a goddess—you. to complete it, you demand he escort you to the elemental forge. along the journey, your cocky attitude and sharp tongue push Kratos past restraint.
a/n; you didn’t specify so i assumed any Kratos x reader fic. i had this in my notes for a while now, finally.. ima post it. if the smut is bad, then.. idk fight Zeus about it. also i agree, more Kratos fics from me coming soon.
wc; 4.4k
ꫂ❁| sexual content, rough sex, degradation, dumbification, foreplay (i think), choking (light breath play), spit kink (i think i lost my mind half way with this one), God of War III au, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mild impact (spanking, hair pulling), goddess!reader, younger!Kratos (GOW3), power imbalance, emotionally detached dom!Kratos. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓! 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅𝐅!
the forge was silent, save for the hissing of molten iron that never truly cooled.
hephaestus’s voice had been rough, worn from centuries of exile. when he told kratos where to go next—to find the goddess of elemental crafting who possessed a key piece to the weapon he needed—his eyes didn’t meet the spartan’s. perhaps it was shame. perhaps it was fear. he knew what kratos did to gods.
still, he sent him to you.
you stood at the edge of your chambers, forged into the hollowed heart of an obsidian mountain, hands stained with soot and starlight. your domain thrived where fire could speak. he found you there, unmoved by his presence.
you had heard of him, of course. the ghost of sparta. the god-slayer. the mortal with olympus under his heel.
you met his glare with your own.
“hephaestus sent you,” you said, voice honey-thick but firm. “and i assume you’re here for the blade.”
he gave no answer. just a grunt. jaw tense, lips slightly parted with restraint. red war paint still fresh against the raw heat of your forge.
your gaze dropped briefly to the blood smudged along his chest. then rose again to his eyes. unflinching.
you didn’t like him.
you didn’t hate him, either.
but he was loud in silence. he was violence made flesh. and he was standing in your territory like he had already won.
“you won’t get it here,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “i forged the base long ago, but to finish it, i need to bring it to the source. and that’s not something i’m doing alone.”
his brow twitched.
“escort me,” you said. “keep the beasts at bay. i’ll complete what hephaestus started. simple.”
another long stare. another breath laced with judgment. he clearly didn’t want to play courier for a goddess.
“you have no choice, kratos.”
the name fell from your lips sharper than a blade, and it curled the corners of his mouth downward, as if your voice itself offended him.
“then move quickly.”
you didn’t thank him. and he didn’t wait for you. he turned, jaw set, and began walking the path back out of your chambers.
the journey should have been short. but the land between you and the forge-source was cursed with broken terrain, lingering titan blood, and creatures crawling from the ashes of cronos’s fall. it had been days since he’d climbed the chain that pierced the sky. and you had no sympathy for the exhaustion in his limbs.
still, he protected you.
more out of necessity than care.
you took your time.
on purpose.
because it annoyed him.
and gods, it was so easy to irritate him.
you questioned him, challenged him, even walked ahead of him on purpose. called him “champion” instead of “kratos,” just to see that tight flicker of annoyance cross his features. sometimes you’d pause to adjust your clothing—tighter fitting than necessary—and make no effort to hide how you enjoyed his gaze dropping for the briefest second.
“i didn’t know the spartan could blush.”
he didn’t respond. just tightened his grip on the blades chained to his arms.
still, he followed.
he killed for you.
and when your path brought you to a broken cliff, the only way across being a chain-walk over lava-burnt rocks, you stood near the edge and looked back at him.
“afraid of heights?” you asked, teasing.
his silence answered. and he stepped forward, taking the lead.
you smirked.
but the ground shook before either of you crossed.
another beast—twisted, skin pulled back over bone like melted wax—slammed through the rocks behind you. before you could summon a defense, it was kratos that moved. fast. brutal. he slammed his shoulder into you, not gently, and sent you skidding behind him just in time for the claws to rake air where your throat had been.
you rose to your feet, spitting stone dust, and shouted, “watch it!”
but he didn’t respond.
he was already moving.
already ripping the beast in half.
you stared as blood painted his skin and the air stilled.
“you could’ve warned me.”
“you were too slow.”
he finally spoke.
it was gravel. tight. low. not just annoyance. it was seething.
“maybe i would’ve been faster if i didn’t have to deal with your barking all day.”
you stiffened.
he turned to face you. chest heaving. eyes like smoke. his teeth clenched as he breathed through his nose, sharp and loud.
you took a step forward.
“what?” you hissed. “you don’t like a woman who talks back?”
his stare burned.
you wanted him angry. but you didn’t expect the heat behind his eyes to pin you so fast.
“you are loud,” he growled. “and reckless.”
“and you are quiet. and blind.”
his brow twitched.
you didn’t stop.
“you came here like you owned the forge. like your name alone would open every gate. you think strength is enough? there’s power in control, spartan. something you don’t have.”
his jaw clenched. he stepped forward once, twice, until your back hit the cliff wall. you refused to flinch. even with his broad chest nearly brushing yours, even when his breath was warm and angry against your cheek.
“you will speak,” he said low, “only when necessary.”
your heart pounded. but you didn’t look away.
“then shut me up.”
he didn’t move.
but the air between you had already ignited.
his eyes didn’t move from yours.
you tried to hold the line, to keep that familiar sharpness in your mouth, but the heat in his stare made your knees pulse. you hated how easily he read you. how easily he could command without saying a word.
and when he moved—
he didn’t ask.
his hand came up and gripped your jaw, not cruel, but firm—thumb dragging over your lower lip before pushing inside. your breath caught. not in fear. but from how hard you clenched at the dominance in that motion alone.
his body was against yours. towering. thick. unyielding muscle flush to your front. you’d taunted him for days. you deserved this. and he was going to make sure you remembered it.
“open.”
he didn’t say it loud.
but you obeyed.
his thumb pressed down on your tongue, slow, and the sound that left his throat was almost a growl—not satisfaction. warning. you’d crossed something. and now he would return it.
you were pulled away from the cliff wall and turned. fast.
your back hit the stone again, chest pressed tight against it. his hand on the back of your neck, large enough to wrap your throat without effort.
you let out a low, cocky breath—“you’re finally showing some fire—”
but your voice broke when you felt his mouth at the base of your neck. not kissing. biting.
you gasped, but he didn’t let go. instead, his free hand grabbed your hips, pulling them harshly into his front. you felt all of him. all of him. thick, heavy, fully hard—pinned right against your ass through his gear.
you rolled your hips once. smug.
“this because i talk too much?” you murmured, voice defiant.
he didn’t answer.
instead, his mouth trailed lower—lips hot against your spine, down the curve of your back, teeth dragging along the ridges of your skin like he meant to mark every part of you.
then he dropped to his knees behind you.
you opened your mouth to speak.
but then he pulled your hips back.
and his mouth met your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
you choked on a moan. hands flattening against the stone wall.
his tongue worked you open in slow, punishing strokes—wet and warm and deep, his nose pressed to the crease of you as he devoured without mercy. one arm wrapped under your thigh, lifting it slightly to open you more, while his mouth moved with disgusting, feral hunger.
no gentleness.
no praise.
just heat and purpose.
he grunted against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and your back arched hard enough that your cheek scraped the rock.
you tried to steady your breath, to keep your voice from breaking.
“fuck—kratos, you—”
he slapped your ass.
hard.
you yelped.
then his teeth grazed your clit, not biting—but warning. again.
you were already dripping, thighs trembling.
he licked once more—long and slow and mean—then stood.
your legs nearly gave.
“already weak?” he murmured, voice dark and low against your ear. “and i haven’t even put it in you.”
your heart slammed against your ribs.
you turned your face slightly, daring enough to speak through breathless lips—“maybe you’re just too slow.”
his growl was low. dangerous.
you smiled.
then gasped as his hand wrapped around your throat and bent you against the wall. the force not cruel, but claiming. his other hand yanked down what little armor you wore from behind, and you didn’t get a second to breathe before the blunt, massive head of his cock dragged between your folds.
you whimpered.
and he hadn’t even pushed in yet.
you tried to mouth something—maybe a warning, maybe defiance—
but then he thrust.
deep. thick. brutal.
you screamed.
the stretch was insane—hot, splitting, your hands clawing at the wall for any grip. he held you still by your throat and his other hand splayed across your stomach, pulling you onto him even deeper.
he didn’t wait.
he set a brutal rhythm instantly—hips snapping into you hard, over and over, the slap of skin against skin echoing off the cavern walls. you tried to speak but nothing came out, just moans choked by his hand and your own shaking breath.
“look at you now.”
his voice curled against your ear, low and smug and feral.
“couldn’t shut up for a day.”
slap.
his hips drove into you again, deeper than before.
“now all you do is moan.”
you cried out, body folding under each thrust.
he fucked you like punishment. like payback. like he’d been holding this back for hours. days.
and he didn’t let up.
his hand left your neck only to grab your hair—pulling your head back, making you arch, forcing your body to take every inch of him.
you tried to say his name.
tried to taunt again.
but you couldn’t even think.
all you could do was tremble as he pounded into you, deep and rough, each thrust punching breath from your lungs.
you felt him spit—hot against your back—and his palm spread it down your spine, pressing hard between your shoulder blades to bend you deeper.
your knees nearly buckled.
“dumb thing,” he hissed, teeth close again. “thought you were in control.”
you moaned loud at that. too loud.
he grunted.
“you like this. you like being ruined.”
you nodded.
barely.
you couldn’t help it.
and he didn’t stop.
his pace didn’t slow.
not when you clenched, not when you gasped his name through broken sounds, not even when you started to fall forward, arms trembling too hard to hold you against the wall anymore.
he held you up. he made you stay there—bent, stretched open, every thrust carving a new place in you.
he finished.
with a grunt so deep it vibrated through your bones, he slammed in deep, the heat of his release coating your insides. thick. so much. it spilled the second he pulled back—and he watched it drip.
but he didn’t stop.
you whimpered as he pushed back in, his cock already half-hard again—but growing fast. filling. stretching. your legs kicked weakly, and he grabbed your hips and dragged you back onto him again.
“kratos—”
you tried to form a thought. anything.
he didn’t let you.
“shut up.”
his hand found your throat again.
your eyes rolled.
he thrust harder. deeper. slick now from his cum and yours, making the sound between your bodies filthy—wet, obscene, echoing louder than your gasps.
you had no rhythm left. no breath. your mouth hung open, drool sliding down your chin as he pounded into you with no mercy.
“you feel that?” his voice was low, dark, a growl dragging against your spine. “how full you are? how easy it is now?”
you moaned, almost sobbed.
“you’ll take it again.”
he slammed forward.
“and again.”
another. brutal.
“until that smart little mouth forgets how to speak.”
you couldn’t even nod.
you were gone.
mind numb. thoughts scattered. dumb.
his spit hit the side of your cheek. hot. it dripped down the edge of your jaw. you didn’t even flinch.
he grabbed your hair, yanked your head back so your mouth opened again, and he leaned close—tongue brushing your ear.
“say thank you.”
you gasped.
he thrust.
you screamed.
“thank you,” you moaned, “thank you, thank you—”
he laughed once.
once.
then he flipped you.
your back hit the stone, knees barely holding under you. he dragged your legs up, hiked one over his shoulder, and drove in again.
you clawed at the ground. body convulsing. already overstimulated. already soaked. the stretch burned, but your cunt fluttered around him with every motion.
you tried to twist your hips.
you tried to sass.
to speak.
but your voice was only moans now. high. shattered.
his thrusts went deeper.
he looked down at you—smug, controlled. still silent except for the way he breathed.
those eyes stayed on yours.
that heat. that domination without words.
you came again.
and again.
you don’t remember how many times. your body shook, core pulsing around him. your mind blank. lips parted and drooling as he filled you again, the thick mess of him leaking from your hole down your thighs.
you choked, nearly sobbing.
he never stopped.
just kept you open. kept you taking him.
“look at you now.”
his hand gripped your jaw. forcing your eyes to stay on his.
“nothing but a hole to fuck.”
you moaned at that.
you weren’t even ashamed.
his thrusts slowed.
deep now. dragging inside you, twisting.
your thighs trembled around his hips.
his cock was soaked. drenched. swollen from how much he’d used you already.
you tried to speak.
nothing came out.
his hand gripped your face. smearing spit across your lips.
“say something,” he said, low. mocking.
you barely swallowed.
“please.”
his brow raised.
“please what?”
“please… more.”
he smirked.
he gripped your hips again.
you felt your own slick, his cum, everything soaking between your legs, sliding down the backs of your thighs in thick, warm trails. and still—still—he was inside you. pulsing. hard.
your muscles twitched with every shallow thrust. overstimulated. trembling.
your body couldn’t even tense anymore. it just took it.
“you begged,” he said low. “but you didn’t mean it.”
his hand came around your throat again—not squeezing this time. just holding. just owning.
“you wanted more. and now you have it.”
he fucked you deeper.
not faster. deeper.
cruel in how slow he went. drawing out the stretch, letting you feel every inch of him as if he wanted to brand the shape of his cock into your body forever.
you made a soft, broken noise.
it wasn’t a moan.
it wasn’t even a word.
just air.
and he groaned at the sound of it.
your mind had gone numb hours ago. your body jerked with each thrust, but there was no resistance anymore. your hands were limp above your head. your eyes rolled back as your mouth hung open, lips raw from biting them.
you didn’t talk.
you couldn’t.
you were all feeling now. nothing else. no pride. no sharp tongue. just kratos—between your legs, over your body, inside you, claiming what he wanted again and again and again.
and he didn’t kiss you.
he didn’t whisper anything sweet.
he grunted as he thrust hard—deep—and finished inside you again.
you gasped as the heat flooded you.
you twitched. legs kicked slightly. your cunt spasmed so tight around him it pulled another noise from his throat.
he stayed there.
buried deep.
you weren’t sure how long.
your eyes fluttered. half-closed.
you didn’t feel like a goddess.
you felt like a vessel. one he’d used up. like your power had poured out with each thrust and now all that was left was this: aching. wet. breathless.
he didn’t pull out right away.
his eyes met yours.
you looked up at him, mouth parted, cheeks streaked with tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen.
you blinked once.
his thumb brushed your chin. not gentle. not soft.
just steady.
a mark of control.
his eyes flicked down your body—slick, red from friction, bruises blooming where his hands had held too tight. your chest rose in shallow, near-panic breaths, the edges of you still clenching like you thought he might start again.
he didn’t.
not yet.
his hand moved to your stomach.
pressed flat.
he watched your twitching thighs.
he leaned down close, mouth barely grazing your ear.
“if you speak again,” he murmured, “it’ll be with my cock still inside you.”
you shivered.
you didn’t respond.
smart girl.
he finally pulled out. slow. the sound obscene.
your breath stuttered.
his cum poured out of you—thick, endless, leaking down onto the stone.
you whimpered.
but he said nothing more.
he stood over you. towering. body still flushed with blood and heat and muscle tensed, battle-ready.
but he didn’t touch you again.
he didn’t help you up.
he left you there. sprawled on the stone, legs spread, mouth open, soaked through and used, as he turned and began gathering the armor he’d cast off somewhere during the second round.
your body ached.
your brain was silent.
no more wit.
no more teeth.
you stared at the ceiling of the cavernous tunnel, chest rising slow.
you’d escort him the rest of the way tomorrow.
but tonight…
you’d been conquered.
and kratos never looked back.