#mankowrites

Morning arrived slowly.

Warmth pulled you awake before sunlight had a chance to. It beamed through your eyelids as your eyes fluttered open.

It was still miserably cold outside, the freezing hold of winter covering the backyard in a blanket of snow. You scanned the trees twinkling with frost through the window as you struggled to truly wake.

Drifting your gaze to the centre of the cabin, you eyed the abandoned cups of mead from the previous night, sitting by the ashes that once were the fire to warm your home. A hazard if left otherwise.

Even so, you found heat still engulfed you. A toned, broad chest pressed firmly against your back, and a protective arm around your middle. You wondered briefly if he awoke as well.

Turning your head slowly to look over your shoulder, you found him still in slumber. Peaceful. Content. Even with the limited ability of your peripheral vision, you could still make out the lack of harsh lines that usually decorated his features in a fit of frustration, anger, or even mere annoyance.

Yet, he looked… soft. A rare sight basking in the pale morning light.

Absentmindedly, your gaze wandered towards the protruding vein in his upper arm, only moving on to the ruggedness of his chest once satisfied with faint roguish images of the man in bed with you.

By the Gods, he was difficult not to stare at.

It was harder to resist a touch.

Before you could even honour your sinful thoughts, the arm that held you tightened its grip around your waist, tucking you further into him.

It took every ounce of discipline in your body to stifle the sob that rose in your throat.

Your body felt it before your brain could register it - the jutting mass just outside your core.

The furs beneath you surrender to your grip, knuckles white as the length of him pressed flush alongside your entrance. You glanced over your shoulder again, only to huff softly when you realised it was out of your field of sight.

It felt wrong given he was asleep. But it wouldn’t harm to wonder.

A low grunt pulled you from your thoughts.

Your eyes quickly darted to his. His brows knitted together as amber eyes cracked open. For a moment, he simply stared at you, still half asleep and unfocused enough to be oblivious to the shock flickering across your face.

His eyes shut again with a murmur, voice rougher with sleep.

“You are awake.”

“I am.”

Kratos shifted slightly, and you quickly realised he hadn’t loosened his grip on you.

A wave of relief washed over your chest. Yet your stomach flipped.

Carefully, you turned to face him, hands finding his shoulders with one leg hooked over his hip.

“Are you tired?” You whispered softly.

He grunted yet again, eyes now half lidded as he scanned you. Gaze landing on your lips before making its way down to the space between you. His expression lifted to something warmer yet heavier, and after following his line of sight, you understood he had noticed your lack of sleep wear.

Before you had a moment to speak, his eyes returned to yours.

“No.”

You hummed in acknowledgment.

The hand that was once tucked underneath your form glided softly across your waist, dipping into your back and along your spine earning a tremble from your skin.

Your own hand found solace in the feeling of his beard, fingertips disappearing into the roughness of his beard as you caressed the strong line of his jaw — one you had never witnessed bare — before resting against his cheek.

Your eyes met fully then.

So did your lips soon after.

You shifted closer without thinking, your free hand now flattening against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in your palm. A groan escaped you, melting between shared breaths and kisses.

Something hot twitched against your thigh. Instantly, you beamed.

“There you are.” You murmured between kisses, rsliding your hand between the both of you to caress the source of your morning stir. Already achingly hard, pulsing and heavy in between your fingers. Anticipation shot through you when you felt the slick of his own arousal running down one of your knuckles.

A muffled growl vibrated through his chest as his gaze darkened further.

Then, slowly - with all the self control he could muster - Kratos rolled onto his back, bringing you with him until you sat straddling his lower abdomen, knees pressed beside his hips.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Large, calloused hands settled firmly on your waist while the other wandered across your back. His fingers flexed slightly, as though resisting the urge to drag you down onto him without mercy.

But no. Now was not the time for that.

The hand along your back made its way to the curve of your hip - a touch so gentle you wondered if this was the same man that had ravaged you beyond recognition so many times before - stopping just below your lower abdomen.

You flinched with anticipation watching his fingers press into your skin, his thumb brushing lightly against your clit, forcing a sigh out of you.

Lazy circles dance around the area. Slow. Agonising. The kind of pleasure that bordered dangerously close to pain.

Kratos watched the mess he was making with unreadable focus. Anyone else might have mistaken his expression for indifference, you knew better. He was studying every reaction, every tremble, and every bite of your lip.

By the way you’re practically singing already, and how easy it was to have your own slick pool on his abdomen, he figures there’s no need to keep you waiting.

He lifts you effortlessly by your thighs as if you weighed nothing, lowering you onto him as you reach your hand down to guide him inside.

Within the first few seconds you already feel that familiar stretch. Fullness. Heat. That overwhelming sensation that always made you wonder how much more there was left to take. His movements are considerate as if he has all the patience in all the realms, waiting for any sign that he should seize.

It never comes.

Ethereal would be an understatement to describe the way he felt inside you. You were convinced that somehow his cock was specifically crafted for you by some higher power.

The morning sun spilled through your windows, casting a glow on your skin and you began to rock against him, its light bathing you in its earthly warmth. Possessive hands travelled from your thighs, to your waist, and finally your chest before repeating the cycle - wandering constantly, never being able to settle in one place.

Your pace quickened naturally, alternating between grinding and bouncing on his cock, leaning back and chasing a deeper angle that earned a low groan from his chest.

You had never been particularly quiet.

From your lips came a symphony of moans, mewls, and sighs that filled the cabin and seemed woven in its walls. His name alone had made your throat hoarse more times than you could count - it was all that filled your mind as he filled you.

He had never been a man of many words.

But you saw it in his face. His expression changed. His demeanour changed.

As you rode him, you couldn’t help but focus on the way his brows pulled together, knitting in the middle as a man utterly consumed in the inner embrace of the woman above him.

Though slow and deliberate, you were surprised to find your orgasm quickly approaching.

“Kratos, I’m-“

A rugged thumb found it’s way back to your clit, its lazy habit of circling abandoned for a firmer, more purposeful motion.

“I want you to cum for me,” He murmured, voice low as his other hand tightened against your hip.

That was enough to push you over the edge.

A silent cry tore through you as heaven crashed over your body. Your walls clenched tightly around his cock while your hips jerked helplessly through wave after wave. Through blurred vision, you caught the widening of his pupils — the unmistakable look of pure admiration burning behind them.

You would have collapsed against him if he had not caught you first, pulling you down against his chest and into his lips.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of his chest as the kiss deepened just enough to make your head spin. Kratos’ forearms came to wrap tightly around your back, holding you flush against him in a possessive embrace that kept your heart racing.

It was clear how badly he needed this, despise the calm indifference he always seemed carry with him.

And judging by the gruff sounds that poured from his mouth into your ear and the sharper thrusts meeting your hips, he wasn’t far behind you. He planted his feet firmly against the bed, giving that angle that made you see stars once he fucked upwards into you.

It wasn’t long before his hips started to stutter and he buried himself completely inside you, stilling with a deep groan - your cunt still so tight around him that you felt every pulse of his seed pumping into you.

Kratos exhaled heavily, steadying himself once he was empty, though he made no move to exit you.

For a moment, there was silence. Like an agreement that there was nothing of relevance to say. The cabin had fallen quiet, save for the distant howl of winter beyond its walls.

When you finally had the strength to pull yourself up, your lips tingled with a promise of a swollen week. Your forehead rested against his, still catching your breath.

His hands remained on you, opting to explore your aching thighs. As though he had fear that if he loosened his hold on you, you’d slip away.

You smiled softly at the thought.

“Good morning.” You joked. You hadn’t expected the tug of his lip at that, although it was a welcome sight. He still carried that softness from earlier in the morning on him, not a sign of negativity in sight.

For everything you had come to learn about him, all the rage and all the violence his history was littered with - moment like this felt like a fever dream, in the best way possible.

You pushed the thought to the back of your mind and your hand’s wandered to his biceps. Chiseled and perfect in your eyes. He flexed them almost playfully, and you let out a pleased hum as you squeezed.

Eventually, Kratos carefully shifted beneath you, moving you so you’d return to the comfort of your bed, side by side once again. You curled instinctively against his chest. His heartbeat now in your ear as his massive hand tangled itself in your hair.

Your fingers drifted lazily across the scarred skin of his chest.

“Don’t leave today.” You whispered against him, “Please.”

He looked down at you for a moment before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“I won’t.”

The wind howled through the trees of Midgardian forests, its sky a dark grey, a warning of an approaching storm.

With little effort and a freshly felled log across his shoulder, Kratos made his way through the debris and fallen branches that littered the path back to the cabin, leather boots soiled with mud and leaves from the snow.

“Rain incoming.” Faye spoke, following closely behind him, “It mustn’t get wet.”

“We are not far. It will hold.”

She hummed in response.

Kratos glanced over his shoulder at his wife. Her white tunic graced over her bump with a glow of a woman who was near to bring new life into the world, the skirt long and flowing gently with the wind. The golden details at the hem tainted by dirt from their path.

Besides his protests, Faye was determined to join her husband in his quest to retrieve wood for the fire that served to keep their home warm. Though he was stern, she was stubborn.

A troublesome combination, she often reminded him.

After mere moments of silence and light snaps of twigs beneath their feet, she uttered again, “Is there a reason you keep looking back at me?”

“The path is uneven.”

“I have eyes.” she tugged at her skirt, stepping over a particularly thick branch while the axe in her hand was used for support.

“You should be resting.”

“I have been resting.”

Kratos grumbled, unconvinced at her retorts. Faye only smiled smugly to herself. It seemed pregnancy had only sharpened her ability to provoke the father of her child. For a brief moment he wondered if their child would inherit such a trait.

The wind picked up while carrying with it the scent of rain and distant snow. Branches creaked overhead, swaying beneath the gathering storm.

The first drops of rain began to fall. Minuscule at first, then heavier. Faye’s grip on her dark bear cloak tightened, the mist of the air cold against her skin. Kratos adjusted the log upon his shoulder and quickened his pace.

Without warning, a clap of thunder split the sky. The sound roaring through the forest like an ancient beast that resided beyond their protection stave.

Faye instinctively flinched with a brief gasp.

Kratos’ head shot towards her, “Faye—“

“I’m fine.” she assured with a groan, grit teeth and a knit brow, “It’s…” He made a move as if he was about to drop the log by his feet to tend to his wife, but was stopped with a wave of her hand, “Let’s keep moving.”

Hesitantly, his body turned towards their path once again, but not before he extended his hand behind him, beaconing her to take it as support. She held it with a grateful smile.

With bonded hands they walked in silence. Not the uncomfortable silence of strangers, but the silence of two people who had long learned that words were not always necessary.

Their shared cabin soon came into view though the trees. A sigh of relief rose out of Faye’s chest.

Home.

Kratos dropped the log with a dull thud on their wooden floor next to their makeshift fireplace, as Faye moved to the makeshift kitchen she had helped build.

Wood was split, every strike precise and controlled, tossed onto the pile. The scent of stew and fruitcake filled the space between them.

Another pained sound broke their shared silence. Instantly, the retired god of war abandoned his task and rushed towards his wife. Before he could even open his mouth, she intervened.

“I’m fine-“

“You are not.” He asserted, moving the empty bowl from her hands and abandoning it on the counter, “Sit.”

Hesitantly, she shifted, guided by him to take a seat on the furs of their shared bed. Kratos took over her previous chore, arranging a bowl of ready stew and serving it to her.

He caught Faye’s eyes lingering on the bed next to theirs before she winced again.

“Your child grows restless.” She groaned, “It seems to disagree with where my ribs are positioned.”

Krato’s expression darkened, “Faye.”

“It is normal.”

His brow furrowed. With her eyes now locking with his, she could almost see the concern warring with confusion. For all his battles and strategic expertise, pregnancy remained the one challenge he couldn’t face with sheer strength.

Faye reached for his hand - the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly. His fingers closed around hers carefully, as though it was something that would pain her further. She squeezed, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as she gently tugged at him so he’d sit beside her.

As she brought the bowl to her lips, Kratos caught himself glancing over the smaller bed beside them. His gaze lingered longer than he intended.

The bed was small. Crude. Built by his own hands from timber hauled through the forest. Faye had insisted on placing it close enough that she could reach across from their own should the child wake in the night.

Everything in that cabin had been constructed as a culmination of their devotion and love towards one another - and now for their newborn.

After a content sigh from the warmth first taste of her meal, Faye caught his gaze. A knowing smile tugged at her lips, “You are doing it again, you know?”

He looked away in an instant, almost shaking off the observation with a flat expression.

“You mustn’t worry.” She set the bowl aside and shifted carefully against the furs. The movement earned another uncomfortable wince, though she managed to mask it for his sake.

Kratos remained silent, forearms coming to rest on his knees in stretched thought.

Her smile faded when she noticed the shadow that was cast on his features, “Kratos-“

“What if I fail?”

The quietness of his words, and the brutality of their meaning almost rendered her speechless, yet she managed an understanding sigh, “You will.“

He grimaced.

“Every parent fails, Kratos. You will make mistakes. You will be stubborn. Overprotective. You will fail sometimes.” Her hand came to rest over her bump, “So will I. But our child does not need perfection.”

Kratos sat up, blinking as he took in his wife’s words. He caught that tug back at her lips again - the smile that he feared losing. That he was terrified of never getting the privilege to see again.

“Oh!’ Faye yelped, Kratos shifting instinctively closer to her, “There you are.”

He followed her gaze to the hand pressing into her stomach, watching the movement beneath her tunic. This time, he didn't look away. The child kicked again.

“I’m beginning to think they want out.” She mused, a soft laughter humming in her chest.

Another feature of hers he dreaded ever losing.

Noticing his pondering, she reached for his wrist. He tensed, yet allowed her to guide his hand. She placed his palm against the curve of her bump - for several seconds, there was nothing. And then-

Faye laughed again, the sudden kick striking the her husband’s hand.

He froze. The entire world seemed to stop. Even Faye’s amusement sounded muted in his ears. There was only that tiny movement beneath his palm. Another kick, more gentle than the previous one as though it was greeting him.

Faye watched his face. Watched the wonder he tried - and failed - to hide. Pleased that his hand remained exactly where it was. Kratos swallowed, a tightness in his chest he hadn’t yet been familiar with. Perhaps it was love. Love for a child that had yet to see their father’s face.

And fear of repeating the past.

“Do you ever wonder what our child will be like?” Her voice broke him out of his thoughts, hoping the question would aid in grounding him.

There was an urge within him to claim he was unsure, but that would be a lie.

“Strong. Stubborn.” He mulled over his answer, Faye hummed in gentle agreement to each characteristic. “Curious.”

There was a gap between his words before he admitted with a whisper, “I hope he has your kindness.”

This struck her unexpectedly.

“You help those who you know cannot repay you.” He continued, matter of factly, almost self deprecating.

She managed a whisper, “You notice that?”

“I notice everything.”

For a moment they simply sat beside each other, still intertwined by the child between them. A gust of wind rolled across the distance, the only sound filling the silence.

Faye placed a hand against his chest. Beneath scars and muscle, she felt the steady beat of his heart. A heart she had come to cherish as if it was her own. A heart that he had spent centuries believing was incapable of holding anything but pain and anguish. The tension beneath her palm was palpable. The fear. The guilt. The memories he rarely chose to speak of.

“You think the past decides what kind of father you’ll become.” Her thumb brushed lightly over the rough leather protecting his chest, “But everyday you prove otherwise.”

The word’s struck him harder than any weapon could.

Krato’s eyes locked with hers, the fondness in them threatening to bringing him to tears.

His jaw tightened, “You do not know what I have done.”

“I know enough.”

The retort came with no hesitation. Yet held no judgement nor fear in its tone.

The storm outside finally broke in full. Rain hammered against the roof as the wind threatened to rattle the walls of their cabin. Thunder could be heard rolling across distant mountains. Still, Faye never averted her eyes.

“You gather wood before sunrise because you worry the cold will reach us. You hunt for the following week despite us only needing stock for the remainder of this one.” She scoffs, her voice stern through his silence, “You check the protection stave every night before sleeping, and every morning before I wake.”

His eyes shifted elsewhere, another kick struck against his palm. The child clearly disagreed with being ignored. Faye exhaled while placing her hand over his, rubbing the spot.

“See? Even he agrees.”

Kratos found himself staring at her bump again, speechless through Faye’s words.

The feeling remained strange. Foreign and dangerous. He had been a father before - the memory clawed at him immediately and he sneered. The ghosts of his past were persistent still after millennia. Faye noticed immediately.

“Hey.” The softness of her voice dragged him back instantly, “You are here. You are not there anymore.”

For moments, the only sound was the storm. Then Kratos exhaled slowly, carefully, as if releasing a weight he had been carrying for far too long.

“I’m afraid of what’s to come.”

A painful confession she known to be true. A sentiment not unfamiliar to herself, like a wound being teared open once again.

Faye shifted closer despite her discomfort, noticing how his gaze drifted away from her once again. Her head found his shoulder, resting near the nook of his clavicle. She hummed, mulling her words over.

“Then perhaps,” She murmured, tilting her head just enough to look up at him, “You should try seeing yourself the way I do.”

Again, he stayed silent. Unsure of his next words. Unsure of how to take in his wife’s words. Unsure of how to express his appreciation for her presence alone, never mind the kind wisdom of her advice. He spent so much of his life believing he didn’t deserve it. Deserve her. Deserve this. A home, a family. Peace.

“Kratos.”

His eyes lowered towards her.

“You are allowed to be happy.”

After a moment, Kratos nodded, shifting to wrap his arm around Faye, his nose finding comfort in the locks of her hair, nestling himself as close as he could to his beloved.

“I will be better.” He finally murmured against her skin, and echo of a lesson she had taught him time again.

A hum vibrated in her chest, her lips brushing his cheek once he tilted her head back up, the coarseness of his beard a light tickle on her skin that forced a content smile out of her.

Outside, the storm continued its assault upon Midgard. Inside, everything was safe.

It was home.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

Another sharp pain suddenly crossed Faye. Kratos sat upright instantly.

“Faye.”

She pressed a hand against her bump. The discomfort lingering for longer this time - long enough for concern to replace contentment.

When it finally passed, she released the breath she had been holding. He was already kneeling beside her, “What is wrong?”

It was a miracle he managed to keep his voice so controlled. Even if just barely.

Faye opened her mouth to dismiss her pain once again, then paused, an overwhelming sharpness taking over her lower stomach.

Her eyes went wide. The realisation dawned upon her at the same second it dawned upon him.

Another thunder rolled just beyond their home. And then-

A small stream of fluid splashed onto the wooden floor just beneath her by his knee.

Faye stared. Kratos stared.

For the first time in centuries, the god was utterly unprepared.

Deliberately, Faye lifted her eyes towards his, “Kratos?”

Somehow his expression became even more alarmed.

“I think our child has decided they want out.”