#nikolai cod x reader

[quarterlifekitty]

Listen, I'm not saying that I want to marry Nikolai and Price and be their good house wife buuuut-

Man why am I imagining Price and Nikolai sharing a wife like she’s a fuckin’ timeshare. Like yeah, they work together sometimes, but otherwise Price has got you with him when Nik is on a long job, and Nik has got you with him when Price is deployed.

99% of their back and forth texts are about you. Pictures of you, updates on you, where they’ve been taking you on dates, videos of cum leaking out of the puffy, swollen lips of your cunt. And they’ve got basically the same philosophy about giving you a baby— they can share the responsibility. They’re both busy, dangerous men. It would be cruel to have wives of their own— poor women would be alone for half the year. This way they can keep their careers and you can get some much needed attention.

The way they talk about you is so insanely intimate and yet so utterly casual.

“Calendar says she should be ovulatin’ soon. Got plans?”

“Making a Black Forest cake for her as we speak. Says you haven’t been able to find her a decent one in London.”

“Slander— bird’s got impossibly high standards. And she’s always been soft for sweets from you, Nik. Hope you’re ready to get your balls fuckin’ drained, mate.”

“I’m betting on it.”

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

P.s. this is pre-relationship, when your feelings are still untold...some of the guys are still awkward and some are not :')

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄

Visiting Price in his office was a common occurance. Sometimes you brought a drink with you, other times you just brought your old tired self.

This was one of those times.

And without looking up, he patted his knee and you hesitated. But only for a moment because as soon as you saw his pen stop scratching on the paper, you stalked over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, trying not to think about the goddamn awful day you had. You knew John would want to talk about it when you were ready. It's one of the things you love about him. He wants to help you no matter what.

As if on Instinctive John wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you in closer. Your face was flushes against his neck and your hands cling to his other arm.

John is so warm, and makes you feel so safe. Everyday is a battle for you; because you just want to fall into his arms and kiss him until you can no longer breathe.

But you can't, because he's your superior and you don't want to jeapordise anything.

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

Wide-eyed and trying not to move. Even his breathing becomes shallower. It's lucky he's wearing a mask otherwise there would've been a bright red Ghost for everyone to see.

Continues to death glare the others, placing a firm finger in front of his lips. Reminding them to SHUT UP.

No one is allowed to talk when you are asleep in the common area. On Ghost's literal orders.

But he never thought you would actually fall asleep on him.

It was a nice feeling. One that made him giddy inside. Like ... he had been chosen for something important.

And maybe he had. This could be a way for your body to tell Ghost that "I WANT YOU!" But unless you actually tell him, he isn't going to get it - or believe it.

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊

Warmth travels to his cheeks as he realises that you've practically clung yourself to him and fallen asleep.

He had taken you to the movies because you had some spare time on your hands and wanted to feel like normal people for once.

But halfway through, drowsiness had overcome you, and consciousness faded away.

It was easy to fall asleep next to Gaz, whose smell and gentle heartbeat felt like heaven.

You hadn't wondered if this was going to far, you trusted Gaz enough to tell you if it was. But he would never tell you that.

Because there was no 'too far.' He would do anything for you. He just didn't know how to get you to see that.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

Oh our sweet boy Soap, he would become so goddamn giddy. His cheeks turn red as he moves ever so slowly to look at you.

Watching movies together was a common occurance. Your place or his, it didn't matter. Even the movie didn't matter - though you both argued over it relentlessly. It was a way for you both to spend more time together. A reason to say why you were late for ___

Your head had dropped a little and his eyebrows flew upwards. He would never live it down if you fell straight into his crotch area.

So he moved his arm around your shoulders and let you turn fully around to hug him.

Your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent.

"Tha gaol agam ort," he whispers into your hair. You only barely heard it. It means (I love you).

He only ever says it when you cannot hear him. But litte did he know you were catching on to certain Gaelic words. Maybe not at that moment, but you had better hearing than he thought you did.

𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

Did not know what to do, and in the midst of his panic, he had accidentally wriggled his shoulder. Which meant you curled up on his lap.

"Oh maus..." Konig whispered, afraid that you would wake up and freak out. But if he truly believed that, then he hadn't been paying attention to your friendship at all.

After ten minutes of the movie playing but Konig couldn't stop staring down at your curled form in his lap, he slowly and gently moved the hair from your face. Stroking your cheeks, running his fingers over your nose and forehead.

It was right then that he fell in love with you. Truly fell in love with you.

A monster and his love. That's how Konig saw the two of you.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈

Charming, suave, flirtacious and utterly awkward when it comes to you.

He makes as much spare time as he can to spend it with you. And curling up on the couch seemed to be the best idea for today.

His large hands wrap around your form and pull you closer.

"Иди спать, малышка" (go to sleep little one) he says quietly, watching you intently as you drift into a deep slumber.

Maybe there is a gun wedged between him and the armrest, but he knows his lifestyle, and how many people want to kill him.

But that is nothing compared to spending time with you.

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍

Coughs; yes he actually coughs and a few times at that. Why did he cough? He has no clue. Was he trying to wake you up? See if you accidentally forgot he was there?

In all honesty he was panicking - this wasn't the type of friendship that you had. It was all banter and poking fun at each other.

Someone actually asked if Keegan was being bullied a few weeks ago.

He snorted and just walked away. It was probably the best thing that recruit could've said.

It was after a long mission and you barely had time to undress from your military clothes, when Keegan barged in and held up two family sized bars of chocolate. "As a thank you for having my back out there, kid."

You couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach. But saving face was what you two did. So you took both of the offerings and laid down in bed. "If you're having all the chocolate, I'm not leaving" "I'm not giving it back Keegan." "Looks like you have a bunk buddy then."

And the tall man climbed into bed beside you awkwardly trying to get comfortable. "Jackass," you mumbled. But a slight smile was on your lips. And within an hour you fell asleep.

When you woke up, Keegan was practically ontop of you, melted chocolate on his lips and slight snoring coming from his nose.

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒

"What the fuck," he mutters to himself as you rest your head on his shoulder on the plane.

You had both been placed on a mission for months and now that it was over, you were exhausted (to say the very least).

The whole time you were together, there had always been bickering. Especially when you were undercover as a married couple.

So you were used to the hostility of Graves (even though he barely had any anymore when it came to you).

Hence, you were way too tired to give a shit. Honestly, if he were to wriggle you off, you would clutch his arm to keep him still.

But he didn't do that. Instead he feigns annoyance and rests his head against the back of his chair. His eyes flickering over to you every few seconds to see if you were okay (if that were to be brought up, he would say that he was looking out the window).

As the time went by, and you woke up, you found that Graves had found your hand and was clutching it.

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎

Sinks into you as well. His culture isn't so rigid as others. And showing affection means multiple things, but the main thing is that it means he cares.

Where your head lolled on his shoulder, he moved back on the couch, yawned, and pulled you down with him. Your sleeping head was rested gently against Ale's chest.

He knew about your feelings for him, and you knew about his, so this situation was awkward. He knew he had to step up and say something, but it had turned into a game of sorts. As if the first person who spoke up would lose.

But having you on his chest, smelling your hair, feeling the weight of your body on his, he decided that he would happily be the loser.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would LOVE to hear more of your thoughts on Nikolai with a Daddy kink because I'm stupidly weak for big scary Russian dudes and you do the words well

Nikolai is only big and scary when he needs to be. (And I do do the words well, don't I?)

mdni (gn!reader)

Loves a good power dynamic, especially a consensual one. It's simple and to the point. He loves it when his partner is completely submissive, but a little bad behavior doesn't hurt either.

Not entirely into the full roleplay aspect, but does enjoy hearing you call him "daddy" as much as he enjoys calling you his "baby" or "little girl/boy." Pet names are a must for him. And just imagine him calling you a pet name with that accent...*swoon*

Obey him, and he'll reward you (sexually and financially). Disobey, and get a punishment (or two)

An absolute soft dom. He prefers to praise over degrading you. As much as he wants to be dominant, he also wants you to feel protected and safe with him. Also, he's Russian. He firmly believes it is his responsibility to look after you in all ways.

Totally open to using toys and props of all kinds.

Very verbal in and out of the bedroom. Behind closed doors, he's telling you how good you are while giving him head and how pretty his cum looks dripping out of you, to complimenting your choice in outfit. The man has many talents.

A big ole' tease. He loves building the anticipation of sex, especially threatening to withdraw sex when you're being naughty. It pushes the boundaries of control, and you both get off on it.

Will completely take care of you financially. Want new clothes? A wax? Hair done? Whatever. He's covering it. No problem.

As much as he pays your bills and buys you things, he also cares about your well-being.

Aftercare is perfect. Every. Time. No notes.

main masterlist

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ NIKOLAI HEADCANONS

RATING R - Restricted [ Content Warnings : 18+ mdni, gn!m!f!reader, strong language, alcohol mention and consumption, fluff, possible mistranslation, spider mention, smut, dom!Nikolai, sub!reader, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, masturbation, riding, hair pulling ]

SYNOPSIS Both general and romantic, safe for work and not safe for work, headcanons for, arguably, one of the most underrated Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters to date - Nikolai. (This is my first time writing smut so any tips and feedback is greatly appreciated!)

WORD COUNT 1.2k

SAFE FOR WORK

His hands, and just his body overall, run naturally warm. Not to the point where he can be considered a "walking heater" or burning to the touch, but just exudes a constant warmness overall.

Dad-bod, no questions asked. He's not completely cut, not all hard surfaces and muscles - he's got a plush softness to him body that's equally as firm. He works out and keeps himself in shape, of course, because, granted, it's a given that comes with his profession, but he indulges himself equally as much.

He doesn't drink heavily, per se, setting a hard cut-off point for himself that he abides by like it's law, but he won't deny a drink if he's offered it. After all, drinking culture is big in Russia - he can hold his own just fine. That being said, vodka isn't his favorite, but he doesn't hate it by any means, either.

Acts of service and quality time are his love languages. He loves spending time with you whenever he can, especially considering how his profession can take him away for months and more at a time. If it's possible, you're always by his side or he's by yours. Will do anything you ask of him, too - be it chores, tasks, or anything else.

That being said, it can also be argued that giving gifts is one of his primary love languages, too. Any time he's out on a mission, he always tries to get you something from wherever he's been to - there are many perks to being a pilot, now aren't there?

He snores when he sleeps, and he sleeps heavy. Not to the point where you'd have to dump a bucket of ice water over him to wake him up, but to the point where you have to shake him vigorously to get him to slowly rouse. Sounds like a lawnmower when he snores.

His kisses are soft and slow, one hand on your waist or back, pulling you in, while the other holds your chin with such tenderness, guiding your lips to meet his, breathing out a heavy sigh as he relaxes into you.

Opts for Russian terms of endearment over English ones. It feels more personal to him, calling you something in his native tongue rather than something he hears everyone around him call their partners - it's more special to him.

Лапушка/Лапочка - Lapochka/Lapushka (sweetheart)

Любимая/Любимый - Lyubimaya/Lyubimyy (darling)

Surprisingly or not, he's actually a really good cook! He's traveled to so many places and tried so many different kinds of food so, naturally, he's learned to make them for himself. He downplays his abilities, but he looks like an absolute professional when he's in the kitchen.

When he's not away for work, he's actually quite domestic. He has a house of his own far away from everyone else in a remote little town, at least an hour or two outside of any major city. A cabin of sorts, with a place for his own little garden that he tends to (or, more accurately, which you tend to).

He even has his own little stall at the town's farmers market where he sells what he grows whenever it's ready. Everyone has so many theories about him because, honestly - why wouldn't they? A Russian man who lives at the edge of town in a big ol' house, disappearing for weeks or months at a time. It's a cause for concern.

He's so polite and he has the best manners, no question about it.

Though, to combat it, he can be quite a loose-canon. He's reckless and unethical in his methods, especially with work, but some aspects carry over to his personal and domestic life. (If there's a spider, he's pulling out his pistol first, not grabbing a book or a shoe).

He has this sarcastic, almost morbid sense of humor, smug as all hell (worse than Graves, more often than not) but he's genuinely just playful. He's a friend to everyone he meets and can easily match vibes with anyone.

NOT SAFE FOR WORK

Dominant in every sense of the word. He might let you act like you're in control from time to time, but he's quick to show you your place and has no shame in doing it.

His hands are always on you, no matter the occasion. He has to have some sort of physical contact when it comes to you. Be it a hand on the small of your back to guide you, on your shoulder to assure his presence, his leg touching yours when you sit down, a palm on your thigh as he drives.

One-hundred percent an ass man. Squeezing, slapping, spanking, groping - doesn't matter. If he can, his hand is there, no discussion.

He's an exhibitionist, easily. The risk of getting caught, whether if he's by himself or if he's with you, turns him on beyond belief - it gets his head spinning.

Helicopter sex! He's absolutely obsessed with getting you to ride him while he sits in the cockpit, holding onto your hips, fingers bruising into the skin, his legs spread wide with his jumper zipped down as far as it can go, fucking up into you as you bounce on his cock.

Jerks himself off in his helicopter too, biting down onto his fist as he fucks into his hand with purpose.

He's noisy! All grunts and growls, whispering to you how good you feel, practically narrating what he's doing sometimes.

It's a balance of praise and degradation that he gives. Sometimes it fifty-fifty, saying how you're taking him so well, like a good whore should. Sometimes it switches from one to the other (be it extremes or not) - it just depends.

Gives oral like it’s his job. Steady grip on your thighs, pushing them back and wide and buries himself between them for as long as you'll allow him to. He's so sloppy with it too, drooling and spitting all over you as he sucks you off/eats you out. (If you look close enough, you can tell it's started to bleach his beard, too).

Takes his time fucking you. He doesn't like quickies at all - if he isn't able to fuck you at the pace he wants, he isn't doing it. Now, this doesn't necessarily mean that he isn't up for hard and fast sex, but it's more so that he doesn't like time constraints.

More often than not, though, he goes slow (at least, at first), teasing you until you're begging before slowly pushing into you, dragging his cock in and out of you at an excruciating pace.

Speaking of, too, he's such a tease and he knows it.

Loves loves loves pulling and grabbing your hair, forcing you to arch your back as he pounds into you from behind relentlessly, watching the way your ass ripples with every snap of his hips.

Dumbification, too. Loves getting you all cock-drunk and fucked out to the point where you can't think for yourself, teasing you and borderline-mocking you as he slides a hand down your stomach, bringing his thumb down to your clit and making slow circles around it/grabbing the base of your cock and slowly stroking up and down it as he coos at you.

This goes hand in hand with overstimulation - loves making you cum over and over and over again until you can't think and it's too much, only to coax another orgasm out of you.

[gothicflowers]

John Price, Nikolai, Rudy Parra

NSFW (MDNI)

He was a chunky kid, his grandma and aunts always made sure he was well fed. He got made fun of until he was about fifteen when he finally had a growth spurt. He wasn’t as muscular as Ghost, nor did he have super defined abs like Soap, no luscious hair like Alejandro. He’s not insecure about his body, far from it, he doesn’t care about his scars or the stretch marks that decorate his skin. Truth is, he just doesn’t find himself impressive. He doesn’t think that his strong arms, softly defined tummy, and muscular thighs are what most what find attractive, he calls himself average.

So when you asked him if he would video himself jacking off he was rather surprised. Especially when you asked if he could try and get from his knees up to his shoulders In the frame.

He let out a small laugh before he spoke into the phone “Why? I’m not that attractive, you don’t want a video with my stomach in it”

“But I love seeing how your chest and tummy muscles flex when you get close” you tell him.

you’re trying hard to convince him from the other end of the line. He had a few boudoir photos of you saved and a clip or two of your intimate moments. But you had nothing of him. And after a few days he gave it some thought. That’s when you got a text with a attachment with a message that said “I hope this can satisfy you until I get home, xoxo”

He’s sitting it a chair that’s barely big enough to fit him. His pants are pulled down just enough for him to free himself. His button up shirt is completely undone exposing his soft hairy chest and stomach, sleeves rolled up to his elbows giving you a clear view of his veiny hands and forearms.

It’s delicious from being to end. He starts slow and soft, wanted to take his time to picture you against him. His hand that isn’t occupied grazes against his chest and stomach, giving his body soft but firm squeezes. He moves his hand up and down in a manner that is similar to how you ride him. After a few more minutes his hands pace becomes slightly faster and his breathing became loud and heavy. Soft groans of your name falls from his lips. You can tell he’s getting close. His sholders come slightly inwards as his pecks flex and flare with his breath, his tummy clenching and hardening as the tightness grows. His moans sound like choked out cries as his head throws back as he comes all over his tummy. The video doesn’t end there. His hand slowly moves again squeezing out what’s left before his thumb rolls over his red tip. His breathing slows down and he lets out a satisfied sigh.

[local-crying-boy]

🄽🄸🄺🄾🄻🄰🄸

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 - 𝔻𝕒𝕪 6

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝: 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔(𝚒𝚜𝚑) 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 + 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚝…?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.8k (𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Translations:

любовь - Love

моя девочка - my girl

Да - yes

это то, что тебе нужно? - is that what you need?

высказывайся - speak up

я так долго хотел тебя - I’ve wanted you for so long

конечно - of course

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Nikolai, a talented pilot and a friend of your Captain, was a good friend of yours. He was kind and funny, caring but still stern sometimes. He was a perfect mixture of an amazing friend and a hardened military man.

When you had first met him, you were meeting the pilot you were going to be the co-pilot of. You were nervous to hell, your hands were shaking and you were terrified that you were going to stumble over your words in front of a complete stranger that you were going to have to work with until the foreseeable future.

You, thankfully, did not stumble over your words and did not make a complete fool of yourself in front of this stranger. Which, therefore, meant that you and Nikolai started to get closer and closer.

You wouldn’t necessarily say that you two were ‘together’, but some people did comment on how the two of you acted like a married couple, or whatever.

However, you couldn’t deny that the two of you did have a ‘relationship’ of a sort.

You slept together, from time to time.

It was a type of ‘friends with benefits’ thing, it it was mostly a thing the two of you did when you were both basically black out drunk. Which, to be fair, didn’t happen often because he could handle his drink, while you… well, could barely keep up with how much he drank.

You were able to remember exactly how the first time played out, a silly half-drunken mistake that you both made that ultimately led into something bigger.

A comment there, a laugh here, one or two innocent touches.

Then you were stumbling through the door of his apartment, trying to claw each others’ clothes off, barely taking a moment to pull away from the sloppy, needy kisses the two of you shared.

“Jesus, Nik…” you breathed out that night as he pushed against the wall, a temporary thing so that he could feel your body close to his as soon as he could.

“I couldn’t help myself.” He muttered against your lips, his hands running up your sides, referring to fact that he had you pressed up against the wall so quickly from closing the door.

Your lips had clashed against each other’s again, resulting in a desperate, messy make out session, his hands slipping under your shirt as his rough hands felt up your soft skin. His other hand was resting on your hips, though you were convinced he was slowly inching downwards.

You were quick to match his pace in the whole thing, your hands running up his chest, you could tell how toned he was even over his shirt, then your fingers started working on taking of his brown jacket.

A low rumble of a laugh met your ears, his lips near to your ear as he bit lightly on your earlobe. “No patience, hmm? You want to get right to it?”

You couldn’t help but shiver at his low, rough voice in your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin only causing shivers down your spine. His accent too, God, his accent. You could practically feel your legs start to turn to jelly at how heavenly his voice sounded, especially right by your ear.

“Fuck, Nik…” You had breathed out quietly, breaking from the kiss to lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered quietly, his hands moving back to your waist as he squeezed them lightly. “You want to get taken care of? I’ll take care of you, любовь.”

Before you knew it, he was picking you up. You let out a shocked gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist so that you didn’t fall right on the floor.

Then, just as fast as you were off the ground, you felt your back hit something softer. The sofa. Clearly Nikolai was too impatient to take you all the way to the bedroom, wanting you here and now. Though, you had to admit, he was gentle with your body, planting you softly onto the sofa, not simply throwing you down onto it.

You were looking up at him, now noticing how large and muscular he actually was now that was on top of you. He had to admit, as well, that he was somewhat shocked at how small you looked now that you were under him. Not like you were a particularly small person, it just was a different perceptive. One that he loved, too.

Nikolai was quickly to remove his jacket and his shirt, leaven you gazing at his massive pecs and the hair covering his chest. He ran a hair through his tousled hair - thanks to you messing it up during one of many make out sessions - then leaned back down so that the two were of you were face to face, pressing his lips against yours once again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when he was closer to you, a hand grasping the back of his head, fingers entangled with his hair, no doubt messing it up more. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, causing a faint moan to leave your lips, only to be swallowed into his mouth.

“Nik-” you breathed out when you finally were able to take a breath, you felt the ever growing need in between your legs grow and grow the longer the two of you were in such close proximity.

“I know.” He whispered again, his forehead pressing against yours, breath hitting your lips. “I’ll give you what you want in a minute.”

You let out a quiet noise, one unrecognisable to your ears, when you heard him speak again. You were one to hear the differences in others voices, and you noticed the speaking patterns with Nikolai. However, now, with his breathlessness and low tone, you were finding yourself getting wet at his voice.

“What’s that, hm?” He mused quietly, a grin pulling at his lips. “I’ll make sure I’ll pull out all those noises from you, I’ll hear it again…”

His hands moved under your shirt again, pulling it up slowly to reveal your abdomen. “Move your arms.” He whispered, and you obliged without a second thought.

Your shirt was quickly discarded and thrown someone where in room, Nikolai’s hands were soon back on your sides, running upwards to your bra.

“Can I?” He muttered softly, looking you in your eyes, one of his hands moving to the your back to idly fiddle with the strap.

You nodded slowly, looking up at him as your heart raced out of your chest. You were really doing this, sleeping with your co-pilot, your friend.

Your bra was soon discarded after your nod of approval, Nikolai’s mouth attaching to one as he started to plant sloppy kisses over the bud on your breast. He was only encouraged to keep going after you started letting out a small noises of pleasure.

One of your hands moved down to his jeans, fiddling with the button as you tried to undo it with one hand and without looking. He only let out a muffled laugh around your tit as he felt your struggle.

He parted with your skin for a moment, muttering. “Let me help you with that.” Before he undid his jean button and unzipped his zipper.

Just like his shirt and jacket, his jeans were thrown someplace in the living room, living him in his boxers. Even through his boxers, you could tell he was big, and it only looked bigger with his growing erection.

Nikolai leaned his head down again, planting kisses across your chest and collarbone. His hands went to your sides, feeling up you up before he decided on removing your clothes on your lower half.

You pushed his head back up to yours with your index and thumb on his chin, quickly pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss, your hand that had moved his head wrapped in his hair again. You were able to slip out of the shorts you were wearing, a fete proven difficult while you were desperately pushed your lips against Nikolai’s.

The situation was moving so quick in your eyes, one minute you were drinking happily with your co-worker, the next the two of you were laying practically naked on the sofa together. Had you been not so preoccupied with the situation at hand, you would have laughed about the whole thing.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, моя девочка…” he whispered quietly, his nose brushing against yours. “We should have done this long ago…”

You let out a small hum, god, his voice sent heat straight down in between your legs. He was going to start catching on soon, you were sure. Your underwear was sticking to your pussy so much that it was uncomfortable now, you could feel the wetness every time you shifted, even slightly.

“Damn it, Nik…” you whispered quietly, you breath with shaking with anticipation. “I need you so bad right now.”

He let out a huff of amusement, looking down at you with such a stupid, smug grin. “Да? You need me?”

You quickly nodded, you breath hitching quickly when you felt his hand travel down your abdomen, no doubt inching towards your soaked pussy.

“You want me to touch you? Is that it?” He asked with a hushed, husky voice. “Want my fingers inside of you, это то, что тебе нужно? My fingers?”

You nodded once more, shivers running up your spine as you felt him slowly pull down your underwear, down your thighs and then off over your ankles.

He let out a small chuckle when his gaze fell on how wet you were. “You’re this wet already? Just from us making out?”

“You can’t blame me.” You joked with a laugh, looking up at him. Though, you couldn’t blame you could feel your face flushed with embarrassment.

He made a small movement with his shoulders, nodding slowly. “I guess I can’t.”

His forehead was pressed against yours again and he found you in a softer kiss than before, his hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. “You must really need me, though.”

The sound of his voice sent a familiar shiver down your spine, a small breath escaping your lips, Nikolai no doubt being able to feel it.

“Do you like it when I talk?” He asked faintly, his lips unhurried down your neck. “You always have a little reaction when I speak.”

“Nik…” you whispered out, he was so close to where you desperately needed him and he was taking his sweet time moving his hands.

“Yes, yes, любовь.” He chuckled quietly. “Where’s your patience, hm?”

His eyes were fixated on your expression as his first finger slowly slipped into your folds, an amused smirk on his face as he watched your mouth open, a quiet moan escaping your lips.

“Да, you like it, hm?” He mused softly, his lips pressing against your neck, planting wet kisses on your skin.

He found your faint moans beautiful, the way you were still only quiet from his slow movements, the way you only let out soft breaths.

“Oh, you’re so wet.” He whispered quietly, easily slipping in a second digit steadily inside of you. “See how easy I can slip in?”

You let out a gentle mewl as he slowly started to scissor your soaked pussy, your hand travelling up to grasp his forearm as your head leaned comfortably on one of the pillows on the sofa.

“Nik…” you moaned out, head leaning back as your eyes fixated on his as he looked intently down at you.

“What?” I asked with a chuckle. “Go on, tell me what you want, don’t be shy.”

You didn’t answer straight away, simply just relishing in the small amount of pleasure he was able to give you while using his fingers.

“C’mon.” He encouraged quietly, his lips moving up to your ear and lightly biting on your earlobe. “You can do it, speak up, высказывайся.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered, screwing your eyes shut for a split second. “I need you to fuck me, Nik…”

He was content with your bluntness, easier than beating around the bush. “Okay, любовь, okay.”

And with that, he moved his fingers out of your wetness, his index and middle finger coated in your slick. Before he even moved to take off his underwear, he placed his fingers in his mouth and licked off the sticky coating, a soft noise escaped his lips when he did so.

“Who knew my girl would taste so good.” He said with a rumble of laughter in his chest. “моя девочка… all for me.”

Then he started to finally get fully bare, his boxers joining the rest of both your clothes that were previously thrown off. His member stood erected, the size intimating you more than you thought it was, but maybe that was just because you were intoxicated.

He leaned down and gave you a long, passionate, reassuring kiss on your supple lips. His hand on the back of your neck as if to stabilise you.

In a couple of shifts in position, his cock was comfortably resting in between your thighs. You could feel the tip of his shaft just by your aching pussy.

“Are you ready…?” He asked quietly, his hands now moving to your waist, just so he had something to grope and tightly grasp as he fucked you.

You nodded quickly, your breath heavy with anticipation. “Yes, yes…”

The smirk on his face hadn’t ceased, your eagerness and need for him only amusing him throughout the entire affair. Though, even he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you too.

He pushed himself into your soaked, aching pussy slowly, a low groan escaping his lips. He pressed his face to your shoulder, kissing up it to your neck, mostly to get you some type of relief as you got used to his size.

“Oh, God…” you muttered out quietly, inhaling quietly as you felt his cock start to stretch you out, slowly. “Nik, fuck…”

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, a hand slowly moving to cup your face, causing your eyes to open again and lock onto his.

“I’m okay…” you breathed out quietly, nodding as you spoke. “I’m okay… you can move.”

He whispered out a small ‘okay’, his hand quickly moving to move his overgrown hair out of the way of his sight. A low grunt being heard as he started to move himself steadily out of you, before pushing himself back into you.

The two of you were swift to get into rhythm, finding a pace that was fast enough to finally get that pleasure that was building up and was slow enough to let you get used to one another.

His hands eventually moved to your sides, caressing up and down your skin as if he was savouring the moment (which he definitely was). Faint groans and gentle moans filled the room, Nikolai on top of you as he rocked back and forth.

As you started to grow comfortable and used to his size, Nikolai heard the small ‘you can go faster’ escape your lips. He hadn’t hesitated to pick up his slow movements into quicker paced ones, feeling how his cock twitched when he heard your moans pick up.

“Oh, Nik-” you moaned out, eyes fluttering close. One of his hands travelled to your hand, quickly intertwining yours and his, you gladly took it.

“I know, любовь,” he whispered, his lips pressing against yours for a few moments before he started to trail his lips down your neck. “God, I love how you feel around me… you feel so good…”

You felt a shiver run down your spine when you heard that husky, deep voice so close to where your ear was. Nikolai surely noticed how you pushed your hips a little closer to his when you heard his voice.

“You feel so good.” He repeated, his lips going up to your earlobe, his teeth grazing against the skin there. “я так долго хотел тебя, wanted to have you moan under me…”

He loved how, mixed in with his cock thrusting in and out of you, his voice made you moan and shiver in his arms. His free hand moved down to your chest, feeling your breast and playing with the nipple.

“I love how you feel.” He muttered, starting to get a little breathless now. “Love how you feel so much… I want to touch you all the time…”

“Nikolai…” you moaned out quietly, your hand going to cup his face to bring him down into another long kiss.

“What is it?” He asked, kissing your cheek and then your jaw. “Tell me…”

“I… need you so bad…” you whispered, even though he was already deep inside of you, even though he was already touching you, even though he was already kissing you.

“You already have me.” He whispered, continuing pressing kissed all over your skin.

You let out a quiet whine, shaking your head slowly. “Need you to cum in me… fuck me…”

Nikolai let out a chuckle, mostly at the little whine that escaped your pretty lips, he loved how he could make you feel so desperate that you would resort to making such noises. “конечно, I will…”

It was safe to say that that one drunken night had paved the course that you and Nikolai would go down for a long time. It seemed so frequent that the two of you would continue this drunken pattern.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Kinktober {2024} Masterlist

[sapchat]

Where do y'all think Nik's hanger is in MW3?

Cuz like the quick little backgrounds we see it looks kinda like the Swiss Alps... maybe even the Scandinavian Mountains? But I wanted everyone else's opinion on it

I'm also trying to like base if off of how long it might take a helicopter to get from like Sweden/Switzerland to like the Ukraine region since Verdansk is slightly based off of Donetsk, Ukraine

Like... this seems like to me, coming from my little American pea brain to be the Swiss Alps... either way its pretty as fuck and I wanna live there.

Fucking Simon just standing there

[roosterr]

put me back in it

nikolai x gn!reader wc: 2.3k | ao3 summary: nikolai up and disappeared one day. you thought you'd never see him again, but then he shows up at your door in the middle of the night. warnings: angst, implied smut, kinda ex!nikolai, eventually happy ending

sometimes, on nights where sleep evades you, the memories of him creep back in from the corners of your mind, filling you with the same empty longing that ensnared you like barbed wire around your heart when he vanished all those months ago.

it’s nikolai, the one your thoughts always seem to wander to when you're not paying attention. he never told you his last name, you’re not even sure if that's actually his first, but it never mattered to you back then. 

the night you met still brings a smile to your face. a concert, some obscure band you can't quite remember, where he'd spilled his drink over you and dampened your mood in an instant. with how apologetic he'd been, you found it hard to be annoyed with him, especially after he laid his jacket over your shoulders. he was by your side for the rest of the night, your grievances all but forgotten when his hand met the small of your back and the warmth of his body enveloped you.

you’d given the better part of a year to him, but he’d left you. slipped away in the middle of the night, while you were sleeping in the bed you shared more often than not, and that night was the last you heard from him. waking up alone, without so much as a note explaining why he disappeared, hurt you more than any explanation he could’ve given. no matter how many times you called him the line was always dead, every text left unseen. you resigned yourself to the fact that you would never get the closure your heart yearned for. eventually you stopped trying to reach him altogether.

it happened so fast, a romance so fleeting you’re not sure you have the right to be so torn up about it over a year after you first met – but still, you are. you still think about him when you watch the planes fly overhead, the streetlights against the night sky, and in the company taking up space in your bed as you gaze up at the ceiling.

the guy from the bar looks vaguely similar to nikolai, and that's admittedly why you'd taken him home with you, but the regret was sinking in now and you were already thinking up a way to kick him out as soon as possible.

the sound of a heavy pounding on your door breaks the silence. your companion makes no indication he's even still awake, the arm laid over your abdomen feeling more like deadweight than anything else.

"i'll get it," you mumble, mostly to yourself, tossing his arm to the mattress and pushing yourself up. you feel blindly for a shirt, finding one on the floor by your closet you're sure used to be his, and you don't particularly want to wear it but the knocking has increased in intensity and doesn't seem like it'll stop anytime soon.

so, with an airy sigh, you make for the front door, grabbing your robe as you leave your bedroom to slip over your half-dressed form, and calling out as you turn on the light in the entryway, "i'm coming, shut up!"

in your exhausted state, it slips your mind to check the peephole before you swing the door open and frown at whoever is on the other side. if you had, perhaps you wouldn't have opened it in the first place.

your muscles seize up, and in an instant it's like you're paralysed, one hand on the door and the other holding your robe together, scarcely even breathing as you lock eyes with the man in front of you.

it's nikolai.

his hair is a mess and his stubble is more grown out than you'd ever seen it, as if he had no time to fix his appearance before coming here, but he's no less beautiful even after all this time. the way his chest rises and falls indicates that he'd been running, and you can tell he's holding something behind his back.

your eyes narrow as you meet his, in curiosity or malice you're not quite sure. his brows are knitted in what could only be regret as he opens his mouth, but by now your sense has returned to you and you go to slam the door in his face. it doesn't shut, and you look down to see his boot wedged in the frame, his free hand coming up to push it back open as you gape at him.

he whispers your name, so softly it barely reaches your ears, but you hear it and the familiar shiver it sends down your spine scares you more than anything.

"let me explain," he's pleading, his gaze earnest as those endless brown eyes stare into yours. you stop trying to close the door on him, against your better judgement, and let him push it open once more.

"what could you possibly have to say that would excuse what you did?" you hiss, igorging the tremble in your bottom lip. you fold your arms tightly over your chest as he eyes fall guiltily to the floor. "it's been seven months, i thought you were dead, nikolai!"

"i will tell you everything, солнышка, please, just let me in." he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically weak as he leans against your doorframe. his smoky scent reaches you all at once, a wave of nostalgia crashing over you from simply standing so close to him.

your heart constricts, that barbed wire he left there making itself known again, but you take a step back anyway. you don't look at him as he crosses over the threshold, closing the door behind him and making a beeline for the living room without meeting his eyes once. you hear him remove his boots before he trails after you, and curse him for being so considerate.

the crinkle of plastic meets your ears as he follows, and you turn around to see him bringing a small bouquet of roses out from behind his back. the quiet of the night buzzes in your ears, unable to tear you eyes away from the crimson petals as he holds them out to you, and the way the light from the hall illuminates him from behind. the thought crosses your mind that you should reject them, but you can’t bring yourself to. you take them from him, careful not to let your hands touch, and set them gently on the coffee table.

you sink into the corner of the couch while he does the same at the opposite end, the distance sending another aching twinge through your heart. despite the pain that he put you through, the resentment you hold for him, you still longed to be comforted in his arms, for him to hold you close like before.

"explain, then." you murmur, his gaze causing goosebumps to ripple across your skin as you curl into yourself. the anger has left your voice, replaced by the never-ending tiredness that he left you with.

he clears his throat, something nervous in his body language. it's unnatural, so unlike him that it rubs off on you too when you hear it in his voice, "i’m sorry, my love–"

"don’t." the endearment still gives you butterflies, even though you know it shouldn't, and you wish it didn't.

"i couldn’t– you would have been in danger if i stayed with you, i couldn’t do that to you." he leans forward, his elbows on his knees, the crease between his brows deepening with every word.

"what do you mean danger?" you frown again, sitting up straight in disbelief and slight unease from the seriousness of his expression. he purses his lips and looks away from you. "nikolai?"

"i’m…" he pauses, running a hand through his hair. his obvious anxiety only feeds into your own as you wait for him to continue, subconsciously leaning closer to him. "i am a dangerous man, солнышка. i make a lot of enemies."

your heart stutters at that, a fear creeping in from the corners of your mind – not for yourself, but for him. "you’re not explaining anything. just tell me, nik."

there's another pause. he shuffles closer again, meeting your eyes with a look that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"i’m a mercenary." he finally admits. it was a surprise, of course, but you couldn't help but feel like it made sense. all the secrecy you'd looked past before, working odd hours but never telling you more, even when you'd pried.

he moves closer again, letting his hand rest next to yours on the cushion. you feel the warmth radiating from him, and your fingers twitch with the effort of keeping them still.

"i work with dangerous people, special forces…" he lets his voice trail off, taking in the shock of your expression. "we fight terrorists, my love, people who would do anything to hurt us."

you scoff, humourless and a lot more defeated than you intended, "so you thought you’d disappear in the middle of the night? let me think you hated me?"

a shaky breath escapes him, his hand finally closing the distance and covering yours. you can't even bring yourself to think you should stop him anymore, the part of you that's missed him for all these lonely months wins over easily and you lean even more into his touch.

"i never wanted to hurt you, милая, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you." he murmurs, barely any space between you now but he still doesn't push you past what you're ready for. "i never should've left you like that, and i'm so sorry that i did."

"why’re you telling me all of this now?" you whisper. your uncertain gaze meets his and it's like the rest of the world has faded away. his shadow covers you and you lean even closer, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

"because my life isn’t complete without you." his eyes search yours, his free hand coming up to run his fingers along your jaw in a featherlight touch that leaves your skin tingling in his wake. "you have every right to hate me, but i have loved you for every moment we were apart."

it's involuntary when you lean into his hand, his palm cupping your cheek so tenderly as the whisper of his name passes your lips, "nik…"

his forehead touches yours and any opposition you had to letting him near you again is forgotten. "please, let me make things right, my love."

instead of responding, you push forward and close the final gap by pushing your lips against his with a desperation that he easily reciprocates. he sighs into your mouth, shifting his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you impossibly closer, tiling his head for a better angle. it's sweet and passionate, and it takes you back to when you first met him, the bittersweet memory bringing the sting of tears to your eyes.

you pull back after a moment, your breathing laboured and your eyes glassy as they flutter back open. he smiles softly when you bring your own hand up to cradle his face, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze.

"i'm not forgiving you," you start, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. you watch his eyes widen at your words and his smile falter, and you quickly continue, "but, i am willing to give you a second chance."

his grin returns, and he presses his lips to your cheek in a lingering kiss. "i will never hurt you like that again, милая." he murmurs in your ear, giving your nape a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests.

the tension between you is gone, he feels comforting and safe, like he always had before; everything feels right again.

the spell is broken unceremoniously by the guy from the bar – who you'd, somewhat embarrassingly, completely forgotten about – piping up from the doorway, "who the hell is that?"

"fuck–!" you startle, parting from nikolai and staring wide-eyed at his silhouetted form over nik's shoulder. he's staring the two of you down with a look that's a lot more offended than you think it should be, considering you only met a few hours prior and he hadn't been significant enough for you to even remember his name.

with a tired groan you drag a hand down your face, securing your robe across your front as you stand. he's dressed, thankfully, so you pinch the bridge of your nose and wave him off noncommittally, "can you just go?"

he scoffs and throws his arms out to the side in annoyance, taking a step towards you as he spits, "seriously? you're just gonna–"

nikolai interrupts his complaining by standing to his full height, towering over the man as he puts a hand out to stop him in his tracks. it works, and whatever he was planning on saying immediately dying on his tongue as he looks up at nik. 

the silence in the room is stifling as your eyes dart between the two men, but it's short-lived. nik takes a menacing step towards him, and though you can't see his face, you're sure he's wearing a deadly expression to match.

it takes less than a second for him to cut his losses, quickly backing out into the hall and fumbling hurriedly with your front door. nik follows him as he leaves, making a show of slamming and locking the door behind him.

he turns off the hall light before returning to you, bathing the two of you in darkness and strips of pale moonlight. your skin bristles as his fingers gaze your sides, his thick arms finding their way around your back as your hands rest at his collar.

"no need for cheap imitations," he utters, low and sultry, the vibrations of his voice felt under your palms, "you have me now, мои люблю."

[sirenmoth]

Bookworm

Based of this post i made. GN Reader

If he was sure about one thing, it was your avid love and passion for reading, he could leave you with a book alone while a worked in his office or went to run errands and you wouldn't have moved at all, expect to change the position you were reading in. You were absorbed into your own private worlds, books of different genres layed scattered around the house, stacked up agaisnt each other on any surface you could find to place one, on overcrowed shelves and side tables, even tucked up against the wall on the floor.

It was cute to see you nosedeep in whatever book you were reading but it did concern him to some extent, he managed to sneak up on you a few times, having to physically drag you to eat or to rest your eyes.

Well, by sneaking, more like louding stomping around the house, purposley making as much noise as possible, still you sat and read undisturbed by his actions.

Nothing seemed to work, the amount of books now meant he's accidentally walked into a stack on the floor or nearly had a a few fall off the shelves they cluttered, "Are you planning on moving this anytime soon?" He asked, looking in you direction.

You sat on the sofa, a blanket over your legs and a book you were somehow already nearing half way through even though it was bought a week ago, laid open on your lap, not looking up from the words you were focusing on, you nodded absent mindlessly, eyes never leaving the paper back in front of you, turing the page to start the next chapter and curling up more under the blanket.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't get an answer from you in a while, he couldn't complain about the placements, the only spare room in the house was turned into his at home office, his own space he can retreat to if needed, so getting mad that you turned the living room into your own space was wrong,

It was only fair you got your own space, an area where you could read and store your books without worry, and so he could easy know where you were.

After reaching the midway point of the novel, bookmarking it with the bookmark he bought you as a gift after you looked at him in disgust when he told you to dog-ear the page like he does, moving the blanket from your legs and stretched. Looking around, the lack of books around caught you off guard, it instantly became clear how clean and decluttered everything looked, like you could finally breathe after drowning for so long.

"Where'd all my books go?" you mutter to yourself, getting up from where you've been sitting for who knows how long, a noise from the sunroom caught your attention, it was at the far back of the house and neither you nor he used it for much other than storage.

Calling out to him, knocking on the door to the room before opening it, he stops you " Darling! Wait there, i wanna show you something." he called from inside, sounding a little out of breath, you sighed hoping it wasn't another one of his retreat rooms, "It's not done yet." a loud noise followed by the sound of him grunting, like he was moving something around.

Puzzled, you waited outisde the room, unsure of what was happening that was so important, "Have you seen my books?" you asked him from the other side of the door, crossing your arms over your chest, "I can't find them anywhere." you add. Finally the door opens just enough for him to squeeze out and to keep whatever was inside hidden, "What was that?" you question him again, even more confused than before.

He smiled at you, taking you hand in his, "I have seen you books, so don't be mad at me." he explained, "I found somewhere for you to put them, i know you have a habit of going into that pretty head of yours when reading." That explanation did nothing to help your curiosity. He motioned to you stand in front of the sunroom door, with him behind you.

"I hope you like it, took me hours." He kissed the back of your head, reaching out from behind you to open the door.

The sight in front of you left you speechless, a whole mini library was there, right in fron of your eyes. Taking a few steps into the now renovated room, taking in the sight, a double loveseat big enough to hold two people, was pushed up agaisnt the far right wall, complete with pillows and a throw blanket over the back of it. A singular arm chair in the left corner sat with its own pillow, propped neatly in the center of the chair. Bookshelevs, both refurbished and handmade lined every available wall, reaching upwards towards the ceiling and skylights, creating a warm and cozy feeling. A ladder, which you noticed was on a whell system, sat attache to the larger bookshelf in the room. A decent sized coffee table was placed in front of the double love set, already with a few book ready to be read.

A fair of arms snake their way around your waist, pulling you out of you dazed stated. "Do you like it? Thought you could have your own space to retreat and relax." he said, watching as your eyes looked from one thing to another, "I tried my best to order them how you like it, hopefully it's ok." sheepishly he smiled, his eyes never leaving your awestruck expression.

Turning to him with the biggest smile on your face he's ever seen, you hug him tightly, squeezing him as you buried you face in the crook of his neck, giving him chase butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw, each a silent thank you for his gift and effort. "I love it, thank you so much." you reply, letting go so you explore your new personal space, running you fingers over the polished sheleves, scaaning the small decor pieces and details he added, little trinkets he brought back for you from his travles.

He sat down on the sofa, watching in adoration as you wondered around your new private world, reading the titles off the spines of the books on the shelves, happy with himself and his work, ignoring the gnawing feeling that he'll have to possibly make a new section soon when you inevitably run out of space. You grabbed a book of one of the shelves and made your way over to him, settling down between his legs, getting comfortable with his back slightly agaisnt the back of the sofa and the armrest, one leg streched out on the loveseat with you perched in betweem his legs.

His arms were back around your waist the second you stopped moving, you grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of your legs, arranging so it covered you both completly, your back against his chest and his arms around your waist, you set the novel you choose down on your lap and opened it.

A sigh can be heard behind you, smiling softly to yourself, he's not moving anytime soon and you know he just figured that out. A few minutes after you opened the book, you feel another set of eyes peering over your shoulder at the pages in front of you, "Are you reading over my shoulder?" you playfully ask, earning a grunt in response. Giggling as you readjust the book, so he could totaly not read over your shoulder.

Whatever he had planned today wasn't going to happen and can wait, this is more important.

-- Simon "Ghost" Riley, Captian John Price, Nikolai, John “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz Garrick”, Logan Howlett and any f/o you can think of

[quarterlifekitty]

No one asked but uhhhh baby trapping headcanons

cw: baby trapping. As stated. And dubcon.

Gaz tells you he’ll buy you plan B in the morning. He has no intention of doing that, and he also knows you well enough to know that you’ll forget to ask.

Soap promises to pull out. Promise! But then you end up feeling so good, he just can’t help it…

Ghost tells you he’s been snipped, so it’s fine. He has not been, and it is not fine.

Price is replacing your birth control with sugar pills. Isn’t it so unlucky— well, you know those things are never 100% effective, darl’.

König is tampering with the condoms. Either buying ones that are too small so they rip while he’s inside you, or just poking holes in them. He loves the classics!

Nikolai has you switch positions, and pulls off the condom when you turn around. He laughs as he asks you how his raw cock feels, knowing you’re too drunk on his dick to really fight him off.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

[pricegouge]

assassin anon again! There's a sword 🗡️ emoji. If it's not taken I will have it!

Still obsessed with papochka. Poor daughter!reader who's been raised isolated from pretty much anyone else. Only a nanny/tutor who aren't even around since she's an adult now. She can count on one hand how many times she's seen Nik. She's so sheltered she's afraid to leave home.

She has an accident. Something like falling off her horse or falling down the stairs. Either way she breaks a leg and maybe a wrist or something else.

Nik comes to check on her and she's just instantly attached to him. Super clingy and weepy because she's in pain and her Papochka is finally around taking care of her. And oh man will Nik take care of her. Why not just sleep in his bed with him? That way he can be close by if she needs something. Don't mind if she wakes up to him grinding against her.

*emerges from the google doc like i'm rising from the fucking dead* it's the fact that you have no idea what you did to me when you hit send that keeps killing me lmao.

this screamed princess locked away in a tower vibes to me so i hope you don't mind i made it into an extremely poorly defined medieval/fantasy au and then proceeded to completely out myself as a complete slut for fantasy and spend seven thousand words just having fun with it 🙄

anyway, i imagine nik as some lesser lord. maybe just a landed knight even, granted some run down keep out in the middle of nowhere, plenty of land, as a thank you from his liege lord after an act of valor.

cw: f!reader. incest, skirting awful close with grooming. power imbalance/reader is very sheltered. period appropriate terms for pussy (sorry. i tried to make it as sexy as possible but sometimes it really makes or breaks the scene), virginity kink, multiple orgasms. touch starvation. minor character death, one of which is hinted at foul play but it's only mentioned in one line. please lmk if i missed anything. MDNI

it's easy to get himself a wife once he has a keep, harder to hold her. i can see her fading away after years spent in such isolation, growing more and more melancholy and distant until one day she just. well. the wounds on her wrists, it's hard to imagine such a gentile lady doing something like that, but it must have been what happened? surely?

she never gave him a son, but he's left with the daughter. you're a sweet little gurgling thing he doesn't know what to do with, especially not when duty calls and he's needed elsewhere again. so he gets a handmaid - of sorts. in truth he doesn't quite know what she is, her language one he's not overly familiar with, but she was hard at work in his lord's scullery when he found her and it was a simple matter to ask for another favor, really, even if she wails the whole time. 

war's war, a hard thing to pull away from when you've proven yourself as well as nikolai. harder still when your liege is a greedy man. he's rarely home, misses much of your growth. but his travels take him far and wide and he learns to speak the language of the handmaid, a good thing considering it's what you come to speak, his own daughter's tongue foreign to him. so far removed. like your mama, really, but where his wife had faded in isolation, you appear to thrive.

hard to miss something you never had, he supposes, but if that were true, he shouldn't miss you, not when he hardly even knows you, not when you don't even call him papa in the proper language. but he misses you like he misses his hearth - warm embrace and scent of home. he's ashamed to admit it, but it heats his blood some nights, when the loneliness of the road weighs on him. he's only a man and you've grown quick, as far as he can tell. one minute clutching the maid's skirts and the next helping her in the kitchen, grain enmeshed in the coarse weave of your sleeves. you're a lady, of some fashion - at least when compared to how he grew up - but you're content with this simple life, happy with the dirt under your fingernails. and what man could want for more? a simple woman at home to welcome him with soft arms and the scent of bread?

though he does want more for you, wants to spoil you like the proper little lady you are, his printsessa, so graceful, but ladies come with courts, whole teams of servants at your beck and call to feed you properly, brush your hair and bathe you. 

stable hands to teach you riding, shoe your horses for you.

more cocks in the roost.

you're the light of his life, his sweet dochka, so he can't be blamed for growing covetous. illiberal. it's unwise, will make you an undesirable match later in life when you can't do the things most ladies are supposed to, but there's nothing for it except to keep you squirreled away at home, no one to talk to besides your sweet maid who keeps you unlearned and simple, helpless even to speak with the rabble when you are permitted to walk to town on your maid's arm. 

helpless even to know you need help, until your maid grows too old to take you, too frail to feed herself. nikolai's away for that bit, returns some months later to find you beside yourself, hysterical. stir crazy. he's just grateful the old baba was clever enough to tell you how to dispose of her body - though you didn't do a very good job, the shallow grave you'd dug empty when he finds it under a tree in the east pasture. wolves, likely. he'll have to take care of them before he leaves again. 

it ends up being his longest stay at home in nearly twenty years. a good thing, too, because you need the time almost as much as he does, nerves unwinding under his care after so many months alone. you care for him too, when he lets you, singing to him by the fire until he nods off, thoughts too sluggish to keep up with the translation, your strange foreign tales washing over him until it's just sounds, just the lovely lilt of your voice. you're like a little bird. his little bird, so sweet.

he wants to keep you, clip your feathers, but he can't maintain them from half across the kingdom and there's no one at home to do it for him, so he has to trust you - for now.

the horse frightens you, and he tells you it well should, though it's no destrier, the gentle palfrey shirking from his own mount with flared nostrils and agitated huffs. she's a docile little thing usually, barely even knows how to canter. he teaches you how to take care of her and you pout about the added chores, but there's no denying the excitement he sees in your eyes when you realize the autonomy he's given you. he dampens it with a word of caution.

"remember, radnaja, town holds no friends for you. without your maid, no one will understand you, and an unchaperoned lady will draw many an unwanted glance. you must only travel in the event of an emergency."

there's more peeping, some half-hearted arguments. he doesn't know how the commoners have received you in the past, but you give in easily enough so it can't be a great loss. at least, not enough to outweigh your eagerness to please him, thinking it will make him stay.

you've only just settled when the next call to arms comes and he has to listen to you weep all night, keeping him awake when he really needs the rest. there's no soothing you, no matter how many times he reiterates that you'll be okay, that he's fixed everything, set you up with a year's worth of grains and root veggies in the cellar, and deliveries of cured meats. you know how to milk the goats, how to slit their kids' throats come winter. he doesn't understand why you're so upset, but then, he didn't understand your mother either.

he starts to, though, in the long months that follow; the loneliness that eats at him. at night he hears the trill of your voice in his ear, feels your plush hips in his palms, your weight familiar after too many times helping you onto your horse. he's not a good man, nor a proud one. after long days of trudging and battle, he doesn't fight it - succumbs to the quickest, easiest fantasy; more fleshed out now than ever before. the little woman he's got at home. it's like fuel within him, a flame that only gets hotter the longer it burns. he stokes it daily and it feeds him in turn, makes him bloodthirsty, efficient. there's talk of granting him a larger keep by the end of it.

lace, silks. he pictures you in dresses that tie in the back, maids swarming around you like gnats to keep you primped and pretty. he'd swat them away and lace you up himself if he had his way, grunting with how tightly he pulls your stays. in his thoughts you're already a proper lady, one of those simpering little helpless things who gather around to welcome the lords home. he dreams of seeing you waiting for him at the field gate as he rides home, hair all plated and pretty. like church bells, calling him home, hastening his trip. sometimes he even sleeps in the saddle, the leagues flying underfoot. he's never been this eager to be home, but the years add up; and he aches, just wants to hear you sing to him, too see if you'll be good to your papa and rub his sore knee.

perhaps that's why he doesn't notice the horse at first.

he'd crossed the border onto his own land some miles back, driving his heel hard into the flank of his mount. pines whip past in an endless sea, but he knows the path well, a game trail he himself has carved. his horse notices the other before he does, slowing to a trot and trumpeting. odd. a hardened beast, the destrier did not often feint, but nikolai spots the issue after a quick glance around.

poor creature, eager at the first sight of tail. must be as hard up as him.

dismounting, nikolai tuts to see your reins untethered and calls for you, voice stern as he begins his lecture about the importance of hobbling your mount.

but you never come. not so much as a twig snaps in answer, his own echo all that greets him.

he doesn't panic. not yet. he ties your horse to his own and sets off again, pace much slower for the benefit of your fat little palfrey, keeping his ears strained as he continues to call for you.

your horse's trail is easy to follow, the soft old girl having eaten her way across the fields. the worry sets in the more the path winds, long miles looping over his acreage. aimless. where were you while your sweet little beast was roaming?

he finds you as the sun sets, weather beaten and weary. you can't put weight on your leg and you yelp when he tries to pull you up with a steady grip on your upper arm, but your voice is too creaky to explain why, face twisting in pain with tears that don't fall - the streaks down your pretty face long dried. you shriek when he throws you over your horse's back, though, screams raw and jagged as he rides hard for home.

the first night is the hardest, long hours spent fighting his own exhaustion as he tries to ply you with much needed food and water. you can't move from the bed, can't help yourself even enough to hold the spoon of broth, and he can see why in the mottling on your chest when your smock falls loose enough to show where the delicate bone there should arch. you scream when he hitches your skirts up, his hands too heavy against the deep bruising which runs high on your thigh, perfect ring of a hoofmark dotting dangerously close to your hip.

he's seen men die of complications from such wounds, knows how close you came to the death sentence that is a broken hip.

you try to follow him in the morning, too delirious to understand that he needs to fetch a physician. he ends up having to tie you to the bed, a poor attempt to keep you from injuring yourself further. he leaves you with water and soup, one hand left untied so you could reach it, while the other was bound to your chest, keeping your arm in place. in theory, you could untie yourself, though the knots are so tightly bound he doesn't have to worry. still, when he returns he finds your nails frayed and bloody, the jute rope on its last thread.

they cannot tell if your leg is broken, keep prodding at it with bony old gnarled fingers which he thinks about snapping, if only to remind them what they're looking for. the process makes you sob and shake and cling, your one good arm reaching back to hold him close as the other remains bound to your chest. he sits flush behind you the whole while, cradling you between his thighs. holding the wood they place between your teeth in place, he rocks you whenever able. a pathetic attempt to soothe. and he blames the tears that stain his cheeks on you. transfer from how tightly he holds you, surely.

you sleep after they leave, the tincture they'd given leaving you pliant and soft. even still you cling to him when he settles beside you, careful of the sling that holds you together. he should give you space, let you sleep, but the thought leaves his limbs leaded, too heavy to abide when he tries to pull away. he squired as a boy. they said it was an honor for one so base-born, but he knows now it was only a testament to his size, his strength. even then there was no hiding it, plucked from the village by a passing lord who knew a weapon when he saw one, dressed it up as an honor. he'd play at knighthood when his master was otherwise occupied, stealing away with bits of armor and swords. the first time he'd donned mail, it had nearly made him buckle under the burden, his body unused to the weight. he feels like that now. untried.

you gurgle when he peppers kisses along your hairline. he'd left you completely alone, unwatched. unguarded. he's lucky to have found you alive at all. if he'd been longer in coming, if he'd died in the cause -.

you cuddle closer, snuffling after more kisses. it eases something in his chest, some tightly wound spring he's unaccustomed to feeling, here in the safety of his own home. his next kiss lands lower, the bridge of your nose, then another high on your cheek. your lips part, a soft sound calling to him and he melts into you as much as he can without causing further harm, lips soft against your own.

his sweet, little bird. clipped wing, still singing.

—

thoughts come wispy, barely connected. spiderweb threads which weave in and out of consciousness. there's pain still, but it's lesser somehow. dulled around the edges. you vaguely remember being fed some sticky solution, the bite of it as it slipped down your throat. it had reminded you of the grain alcohol your father sometimes brought home, the stuff you would sneak sips of after he'd started snoring in his chair. it left you loose the same way. easy, passive.

but this didn't help the ache in that same way, the hollow chasm in your chest you've lived with ever since nana passed. it yawns now, needy and desperate. you whimper as you roll, searching, expecting nothing -

and find the warm musculature of another body.

despite your wishes, it's hard to resist the urge to spring up, shrieking, but you manage. instead you turn slowly, fearfully, and nearly sob in relief at the sight of your father's sleeping moue. it's strange, how quickly the lingering effects of your medicine seem to clear. physically, you remain languid, but you've not felt more alert since his last visit, the first time you sat astride your pretty pony and felt for the first time, some modicum of control. this is different, but the effect is the same, leaves your very veins singing with excitement, the tallest tree in the forest, recently struck from the heavens and burning from the inside. you want to consume him with yourself, divine retribution for leaving you alone. more so, you want him to already be with you - an owl at home in the hollowed knot of your chest when you were engulfed.

but he sleeps too peacefully, strong brow obscured by the strands of hair which have escaped his severe style. thick arms encase you, heavy in rest. comforting. you enjoy it as long as he lets you, fingers growing bolder as the morning stretches on, tracing up over his furry forearm, smoothing the folds of his shirt where it rides up to his elbow. he doesn't stink like you'd expect, melt water crisp. he must have washed the filth of the road off while you'd slept, and you can't help but luxuriate in it, craning your neck up to nudge against his throat until he grumbles and snuggles deeper, returning the favor. you play with the thick, gold chain he wears and lay it flat as you can manage against his broad chest, intimate your knuckles with the coarse stubble of his jaw. he wakes when you push his hair back into place, catching your wrist in his big paw so quickly that it makes you jump, crying out when the sharp pain cuts through your hunger.

his grip turns soothing instantly, "shh, shh, malýshka, settle."

"you scared me," you pout, and then pout some more when he levels you with a warning look, rather unearned.

"and you scared me," he counters, kissing the inside of your wrist. his lips are hot against your skin, a relief from the chill of the early spring air. you tuck it back under the blanket when he releases you, the heat built under the cover more than enough to keep you warm; although you realize as your palm settles over the rough spun linen that you've been stripped to your chemise and briefly marvel at that possibility. he emits heat like the hearth, fresh fed. mornings are usually a frigid affair, the coals having guttered, leaving you shivering. but in your father's arms you are content. lazy. happy to sink your fingers into the fur of his belly where his shirt rides up and stave off the frost.

until he tries to squirm away.

"father, please," you whine, grasping for him.

slumping back beside you, he groans, hand over his eyes as if he can't even look at you. "i'll not go far, radnaja."

"just another moment, please? you're so warm."

he grunts when you try to wriggle closer, heavy hand falling on your belly. "and you're needy."

unfair, all things considered, but you don't think it's worth mentioning as much, so you settle for reminding him you're hurt.

"and last time i was home, hm? were you hurt then as well?"

teasing, but you don't find it so funny. "can a heart not hurt?"

he doesn't seem to know what to say to that, instead huffs once more, breath warm against your face, and rolls away, slipping your grasp easily. his tunic is loose, untied at the collar. you've never noticed how hairy he is, pelt a deep contrast to the chain. it's good work, you think - not that you're overly familiar with the intricacies of fine metalcraft, but you've never seen anything like it, thick links so packed and tight it more closely resembled his mail than a proper piece of jewelry. you wondered where he'd acquired it, knew full well the smithy in town could never manage such finery. it was hard not to be a bit jealous, though the nature of it surprised you.

in all your nana's stories, such gifts were only given by loved ones.

~~~

he cooks potatoes and rashers of ham for breakfast. fresh ham, must've brought it with him when he returned. you lay on the bed and salivate, fingers itching. restless and impatient by turns. your nana would have taken a switch to your knuckles if she found you abed while your father cooked, but he seems unbothered by the work, if unpracticed. he lingers when he brings your plate, torn. you try to scoot up the cot to give him space, imply invitation, but he turns away when he sees you wince with the movement, settling at the table where the cold spring light is transmuted, glowing golden as it filters through the horn slats which pane the windows.

your nana's stories have never mentioned beautiful men, at least none like him - burly, old; more bear than man. you've no way with words, but you think you could write new stories, better, paint his hard, weathered body in a kinder light. if only he'd sit still.

"if you leave again, i'll die."

chewing, he eyes you over, the bulky shape of your awkward arm visible through the woolen blanket. that is not what to what you refer. "da. appears you are stuck with me for a while."

there's no hiding the excitement in your voice, not that you're socialized enough to know you should try. "you'll stay?"

another bite, fatty slice. he tears at it like a stray dog, tendons of his neck flexing as he works the piece between sharp teeth. "no choice."

it's not quite what you want to hear, but it soothes you nonetheless, a soft counterpoint to the ache that's slowly rebuilding in your leg. "what will you do if you're summoned again?"

he just shrugs, imparts some saying in his language, no doubt wise. "tell them to 'piss off,' i suppose."

"and after? when i'm healed?" if you heal.

blunt fingers drum on the table. he eyes you like a problem to be solved. "after, i leave."

he's unexpectedly sympathetic when you cry, cooing as he crawls onto the bed beside you. he speaks words that sound reassuring, but they aren't all in your shared tongue and you can only sniffle, holding onto him for all you're worth. you tell him you don't want him to leave, but he just nods, curling around you as best he can. you don't tell him that he jostles you too much, keep your grimace under tight control, the ache of the movement worth the comfort of his care.

despite the pain, you gather you can't have broken your leg when he lifts them gingerly, folds his own up under yours until the tops of his thighs rest under your rump. he's still gentle when he lowers you legs overtop his own, palm heavy and warm he slides it up your tender leg to palm at your hip, drag you closer into the wall of his chest. he's on your good side, knows it; pulls you so close your shoulder gets wedged into your side, pushing your breasts together. you brace his chest instinctively with the fingers of your uselessly bound arm when he leans over you, lips chapped and hot against your hairline as he keeps murmuring, language a tangled knot you can't unwind.

it's not what you're focused on, regardless.

your father is a large man, large enough that he'd single handedly skewed your perception of how a man should look. it wasn't until you were grown, standing next to the blacksmith while he fashioned some lock for nana that you'd realized it. the largest man in town, and you still came up to his chin - though he was admittedly slightly broader than your father. you'd come to appreciate your father's stature on his last visit, the ease with which he'd help lift you into your saddle, the way his height loomed over you making you feel safe, secure. here, now, his broad chest blocking out the room as he leans over you, heavy weight braced on an arm which flexes deliciously as he ducks to peck kisses across your face, you feel a little faint, the ghost of his hands on your hips making you ache to your core - that hollow pit, low in your belly, an emptiness that surpassed hunger, rivaled even that loneliness that's made a home in your chest.

it would eat you soon, if not fed.

"father, please. it hurts," you warble like a baby bird, maw agape. expectant.

he doesn't feed you, eats from you, instead. takes more, mouth hot and open against your own. you wonder if he's just as hollow. "i know, devochka, but you'll be better soon, hm? just need to let your papa take care of you, yes? need -."

"no." you whine when he pulls away, chase his lips as he sits back above you, out of reach. you forget to elaborate until he arches a brow at you, waiting. "not that… not there. here."

desideration has weight, caves your tummy when his eyes follow the path of your good hand low into the cradle of where he's got your legs hitched. he leans back further, bears his weight full on his side so his big paw can climb over the hills of your body, slip south like so many raids. when he presses, applies force, the sharpness of your hunger shocks you, breath going ragged. it draws his attention, dark eyes snapping up to your face so he can track how your lips part when he does it again, the way your eyes go slightly unfocused. it's strange, how he can stoke the fire within you while somehow also making you feel as close to quenched as you ever have.

it scares you. "should you get the doctor again?" something perilously close to anger curls his lip, sets you floundering beneath him, afraid to have disappointed. "sorry, it's only -."

"i have you, malýshka. papa will make it better."

this time when he lowers himself over you, he lets you take his weight, hand staying put on your belly. his other arm curls under your neck, props you up so he can return to his biting kisses, the ones that let him drink soft noises from your lips and feed you with his heavy huffs. you've never kissed like this before, his quick pecks normally placed on the corner of your mouth, or the divot above your lips. nana only ever kissed your cheeks, sweet things which had unfortunately grown sloppy with her age, often left you amused, if mildly disgusted. these are sloppy kisses too, his tongue hot and wet as it slips over your teeth. you imagine biting into it, an undercooked slice of meat, the hot flow of his lifesblood over your jowls. when your stomach flips, it is not with disgust.

you don't realize he's worked your skirt up over your hips with slow, clutching fingers until you feel them on your skin, calloused and warm above the thatch of hair that covers your woman's place. "father?" you whine and he tsks at you, tongue very nearly clicking on your own teeth with how close he stays.

"call me papa, radnaja. about time you learned to speak proper."

it feels good on your tongue, the soft pops as your lips brush against his. must sound good to him as well, for he doesn't wait to hear your question once you've spoken it, mouth returning to yours with a renewed hunger.

"papa, please, what are you -?"

his fingers are too rough when he hikes your good leg further over his hip, baring your flower. you yelp but he just eats that, too, breath turning ragged as it fans across your lips when his palm returns to cup your woman's place. even grabbing his wrist does no good, your fingers like brittle little branches which he shakes off with ease.

"told you, malýshka. papa's gonna make it better, hm? know what you need."

"but nana said not to touch there, not when i'm hungry."

you worry you've misspoken when he leans away from you, brow knitted. "hungry?"

"when i'm empty -," you start, try again more confidently when you wrangle his hand back up to that achy spot, low in your tummy. "when it hurts."

embarrassment blooms as he releases a shaky laugh, palm splayed wide over your belly. you try to wriggle from under him, but the arm tucked beneath your neck pulls you back, bicep bulging as he keeps you in place with a quiet shh. "your nana was right, dochka, and what a good girl you've been to have listened. but do you know why she said not to touch?" he shakes his head when you do, vaguely patronizing. "of course not, milaya, tak khorosho. she was protecting your maidenhead. do you know what that is?" this time when you shake your head, you're rewarded with a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, his hand pressing against your belly until you squirm again. "that's your gift, sweet girl. for your husband. but until you give it to him, do you know who it belongs to?"

you've never noticed how dark his eyes are, almost black. his grin is vicious when you shake your head again.

"to your papa, glupaya devchonka, so i'll touch you there if i please."

this time it's your head that follows after his, bobbing along absently as he nods encouragingly. your hand covers his as best it can, pushes it down toward the apex of your thighs - your gift. he said he knew what to do and you're eager, the ache worse than ever.

"that's right, little one. i've got you. papa will make it better, hm? fill you up." that last is a growl against your lips. a threat. he hikes your leg impossibly higher and tells you to hold it there, hip aching slightly. it's like he knows, thumb digging cruelly into the taut tendon that stems from your core as he palms one of your cheeks and spreads you for his inspection, fingers slotting embarrassingly along your seam. but he seems unbothered, and you suppress the whine that builds in your chest, heat flushing up your neck.

"ty by posmotrel na eto…" feather light, calloused pads trail up and over your flower. "such a pretty little thing."

your stomach leaps, his compliments far too rare. "th- thank you, papa."

dipping further, he sighs when he finds your dew hidden amongst your petals. "ought to thank you," he mutters, then steals your breath with another kiss, swallowing your gasp as his fingers pull up, brush over something which makes you jolt so hard your chest aches.

"wha - what -?"

he just coos. "shshsh. have to be still, malýshka. don't want you getting hurt again."

it seems inevitable. the whole process - too big, too much.

he's going to leave again.

"papa, please…"

"i know, i'll help." and maybe he does, in a way, but he's only ever made things worse, too; so when he works you over, panting heavily against your cheek as his fingers stroke that hard pearl he's found until you're a writhing mess he has to lean on to keep still, you aren't surprised when the tears fall, overwhelmed and scared. he kisses them away, touch still wringing slow, lazy shudders from you until your breath comes ragged, stomach heaving with toomuchsomuchnotenoughstillnotfull.

he waits until you're hiccupping to fold your knee up to your chest, hips hitching impossibly closer under yours. his breeches are roughspun, the suede placket soaked and sticky when it slots up under your cunt. embarrassment cuts through the haze of your pleasure when you realize it's your own juices, tips you over that edge of panic you'd been riding.

must be, he doesn't care. he calls you 'milaya,' asks if you can take more. you shake your head and he just huffs in amusement, hand already reaching past your cunt to unfasten his stays.

"father, no!" you shriek, pushing at his chest as much as you're able. he ignores you until you slip your bad leg off his own, trying to pull away despite the pain.

"ostorozhnyy!" he barks, settling you back into place. "where do you think you're going?"

nonsensically, you sob, "nowhere!"

"certainly seemed like -."

"i don't want you to go!"

you know little of battle, experience limited to the tales your nana would tell, and those more focused on the outcome than the practice. still, you're reminded of a bow when he stalls, tension in his poise, drawn tight. he looms over you, impossibly big. blocks out everything else, no getting past him. "radnaja," he hedges and your neck creaks with how quickly you turn away from him, try to hide your face in your broken shoulder. of course, he follows, elbow cracking when it catches his weight so he can lean over you, press his nose hard into your cheek. "milaya, look at me. look." his fingers are soft against your jaw, turning you back towards him with the utmost care. "i'll not leave you again. where i go, you follow, hm?"

unable to meet his eyes, your voice aches as it rips through your raw throat. "you promise?"

he doesn't, not until you look at him properly and he's rewarded you with a kiss between the eyes. but he repeats it when his manhood strokes your petals, uses it to settle you like one would a horse, voice low and soft, a constant murmur used to ground you as he carves a place for himself, kissing away the tears that come when the tight pinch finally gives.

it's a litany, his own hymn to counter the prayer he pulls from you. he's gentle, despite the way his chest heaves. you're reminded of how he trains sometimes, alone and shirtless in the yard. he laughs when you yank at his tunic, and nods, sitting up enough to pull it over his head in one fluid motion. when he settles, he's lower, face level with your chest. it allows him to sit deeper within you, fill you properly, as he said. his promises finally peter out when he draws your first breathy gasp, different now from the pained noises you'd been letting slip. his hand follows yours when it flutters from his hip, falls to that achy spot.

"still hurt, malýshka?" he looks just as hungry as you, just as consumed. when words fail you, he drags his hand up your chest and splits the panels of your chemise, exposing your chest as best he can despite your sling and groans when he finds your nipples pebbled.

first one, then the other, he inspects each breast with roughened hands, wide palms molding over them, fingers pinching until you whine. he soothes the ache with his rough tongue, lowering his head until he can pull the closest breast into his mouth, jaw hinged wide as if he wished to swallow you whole. his mouth is hot, wet. he suckles, drawing tenderness to the surface which he extorts with teeth and tongue, an alternating attack with no rhythm and no way to prepare yourself. you'd never known your chest could feel like this. you'd never known you could feel like this, hot all over yet shivering as if spring had receded, ebbed until the frozen tundra of winter battered the keep walls. chasing the feeling, you try to mimic his movement, rocking your hips down against his own and snaking your good hand up your chest, managing to worm your fingers under your sling before he snags your wrist and scolds you.

"can't have you hurting yourself more, radnaja. have to be careful."

"but i -?"

"i know. feels good, hm? but it will feel better here," he assures, dragging your hand back down, low - lower, until your fingers frame that pearl of flesh he'd found before. "remember how papa did it? show me what you've learned."

not much, it seems. you're uncoordinated, sloppy, too overwhelmed to find a proper rhythm. it's more intense with him inside you, causes you to flinch away from your own touch. you get distracted, too, reach past your pearl to spread your petals and frame where he's speared you. your fingers come away sticky and slick and you seize around him when you find blood.

you're not sure where it comes from. some long dead instinct, unearthed by fear and the novelty of his comforting presence. you call him papochka in a quavering voice and he makes a sound like he's wounded, reaching blindly for your hand to lick off the blood between broken fragments of sentences, odd threads of your combined languages twining into some semblance of a blanket he uses to soothe you. you think you hear something about your gift, that it just means you've been good for him. you don't catch much beyond that, thoughts whiting out as his own fingers return to your core. there's no flinching away from him.

he's not as cruel this time, lets you wind down without any interruption beyond the way he hikes back up your frame, cock slipping free so he can press open mouth kisses to your cheek. he's still talking, grasp of english steadier now. just needed papa to do it. can't even do it yourself, can you? papochka's got you, don't worry.

but he moves despite his words, letting your leg slip from the cradle of his elbow as he gets his knees under himself and straddles your sore leg. he's careful not to put any weight on it, instead leaning on the back of your other thigh until it folds back up toward your side, same as before.

"is this good, milaya? does it hurt?"

you shake your head adamantly. "no, papa. i'm fine."

he calls you a good girl, but you whine anyway when he tells you you're going to give him one more. he hushes you even as he pushes back in, his head falling back with a groan as this new position finally allows him to sink all the way to the root, and you know instantly why this last turn was necessary, that tight knot in your belly winding impossibly tighter.

as if he knows too, his palm splays over your belly again, fingers digging into your soft flesh. "gonna fill you up, printsessa. just like you wanted. ready?"

the term leaves you breathless, not having heard it since you were little, perched on his knee. technically, you don't know what it means, but it's similar enough to your own language that you don't need his translation, and it leaves you feeling just as spoiled and loved as it always has. you nod, and nearly get shuttled up the bed with how hard he thrusts into you. he murmurs something you don't catch, hand wrapping around your leg to keep you in place. when he begins to move again, it's much slower, a deep grind that has your jaw working uselessly.

papa groans. "not even going to fucking need it, am i? feels that good?"

you don't really know what he's asking, just bob your head along as his thrusts rock you minutely.

"use your words, malýshka."

and you would, if you were capable of them, but he's not fighting fair, making you desperate with shallow little grinds, keeping that word locked back up behind his sharp teeth. hair has fallen into his face, loose strands which cling to his temples and hang over his eyes. it does not obscure the hunger there.

"yes, papochka."

it's not clear how he manages to keep himself restrained. not when he growls like an animal, grips your thigh with bruising force. but his thrusts are languid, deep, and his other hand is gentle when it cradles the base of your skull, thumb keeping your jaw tilted high so he can see how your throat works hard for each breath. he complicates the process further by leaning over you, slotting his lips with yours so he can swallow each noise he pulls, licking along your teeth with enough force you're worried you taste blood.

or maybe it's just the remnants of your gift.

no man would want you now, not even if your father managed to pull together a decent dowry. you'd be stuck with him forever, stuck in this dilapidated keep while he -.

he must feel the panic in your pulse. "promise, printsessa."

this time it works, the knot wrapping so tight it snaps, a taut chain that lets you fall when it gives, leaves you to clatter to the ground, stiff and fragile, until your father scoops up the pieces, collects you in strong arms as he finishes, fills you up just like he promised, buried so deep inside that you know you'll always feel it.

it's then you find he burns, too, his seed so hot within you that you imagine it would sear if not for how tempered you are to your own fire. you gutter out together, the bellows of his breaths too strong to keep you kindling. it's sweltering beneath him, the sweat of his back steaming in the crisp morning air. he kisses you when he's caught his breath, heedless of the fact you hadn't yet. your protests get swallowed up, same as the unadlylike grunt you emit when he slips out. he pulls away at that, seemingly just to laugh at the displeased look on your face when, for one mortifying moment, you think you've started your moonblood and you scramble to see.

a wide palm on your good shoulder stops you, keeps you in place. "you're okay, printsessa. i've got it. stay put."

his joints creak when he climbs from the bed and you're distracted from the shock of cold air by the vision he makes, all heavy muscles and dark, wiry hair. he'd brought home a bear skin once, many years ago. it still warmed your bed upstairs, though you liked this bear better. this bed.

when he returns, papa wipes a cold, wet cloth over your woman's place, coos when you jolt in discomfort. he places a kiss there when he's done and scolds you for trying to squirm away. as if you're the improper one.

you get tucked up next to him again once he's decided you're clean enough and you luxuriate in his embrace for as long as he allows, too afraid to ask any of the questions running through your head lest he get annoyed, change his mind, decide he needs to leave right then, actually, or -.

he kisses the crown of your head. heavy, lingering. you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks. "i'm expecting to be rewarded with a better keep soon. further south."

worry sinks like a stone to the pit of your stomach, tears a hole through the bottom, creates an endless chasm in your bowels you will never fill, not even if you lived to the end of time. papa does his best to soothe the worry by tilting your chin up, kissing you softly on the lips. he retreats to peer at you when he finds you lifeless and stiff in his arms and sighs heavily, almost fondly.

"you'll be coming with me, radnaja."

"really!?" you're not sure you've ever heard your voice so elated, a childishness to your tone that leaves you embarrassed, cheeks heated.

papa only laughs. "promised, didn't i?"

"well, yes, but -."

"you'll be my little printsessa, my proper lady. moya zhena, my wife. would you like that?"

there's no helping the way your eyes widen in wonder. "your wife? how?"

"it's not unusual for a man to take a wife while off fighting. a matter of honor, if she's got a little malýshka of her own." his hand finds your belly again, rubs proprietarily heavy circles there. "no one need know where i found you, only that it did. and it would be an easy ruse, what with your broken russian."

ordinarily, the thought of having disappointed him with your foreign language would make you flinch, but you're too caught up in the picture he paints, the pair of you dressed in modest finery as he leads you around some pretty new home, you dangling from his arm. "but what of me? your daughter? surly people will wonder?"

he just tuts, faux serious. "well you can imagine my heartache, returning to an empty home. that shallow grave out in the east pasture. no wonder the baba fled, probably thought i'd blame her for my daughter's death. a widower, no children. who could blame me for finding a pretty little thing to take south with me?"

divider by @/adornedwithlight

[nyutasomething]

cod characters: their age and zodiac sign (my opinion)

☆ price

star sign: taurus

age: 38

☆ soap

star sign: virgo

age: 27

☆ gaz

star sign: aquarius

age: 28

☆ ghost

star sign: scorpio

age: 34

☆ farah

star sign: libra

age: 27

☆ valeria

star sign: aquarius

age: 32

☆ nikolai

star sign: leo (canon)

age: 42

☆ laswell

star sign: capricorn

age: 47

[gothghostiie]

eepy cozy thinking about conking out on niks or prices fat hairy chest hmm

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ AS GOOD AS I DO

RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings : 18+ mdni, smut, dom!Nikolai, fem!sub!virgin!reader, alcohol consumption, strong language, thigh riding, heavy make-out session, praise with heavier degradation, oral fixation, fingering, size difference, loss of virginity, corruption kink, p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, spanking ]

SYNOPSIS You didn't know that it was a military bar, so you had no warning about all of the pent up soldiers that have their eyes on you and your friends. As most of them leave to have fun of their own, you don't. Why? Because you're a virgin. To your luck (or loss), a particular Russian pilot has his eyes set on you, and he intends to make the most of your first time that will have you crawling back for more.

WORD COUNT 11.3k (Too fucking much.)

The cold air bites harshly at your exposed skin, sinking its fangs in deep, forcing a shiver up your spine that makes you tense and makes way for goosebumps to break out all across your skin, the hairs on your body standing on edge as you roughly rub at the areas in hopes that the friction will do its job properly in warming you up.

It does, if only momentarily, give you a small sliver of reprieve and the opportunity to bask in the warmth before it’s cruelly yanked away the very second you halt your movements, letting that frigid cold seep right back in and settle deep into your bones, comfortably making a home for itself there.

From the exterior, the bar hardly looks... appealing, should we say? The exterior reeks of piss, stomach acid, and sex—a combination of scents that makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust and discomfort—and the building itself is hardly any better, the paint chipping and cracking all over the place with the brick looking as if it’ll crumble with so much as a gust of wind.

So, with a deep, heavy breath, you push open the old, creaky wooden door and take a step inside, immediately being greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of fresh food and liquor. Lively, half-drunken chatter fills the air from the bar’s patrons, with some groups seated along the bar and others at tables scattered across the hardwood floor; nearly everyone within the establishment has one or more people to be paired with, leaving nobody alone.

The people, though, aren't exactly who you expected to see. When your group of close friends initially invited you to come out with them for a night of drinking near one of their flats, far off along the outskirts of the bustling city, you really had no reason to refuse the extended offer. After all, you hadn’t seen some of them in months, so this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up, no?

Well, it is. But nobody thought to tell you that you’d be walking right into a military bar.

Apparently, according to one of your friends, there’s a base just a few kilometers down the road, and, given that this is the closet bar in the vicinity of it, it’s where every active-duty soldier and veteran comes. They make up ninety percent of the bar’s patrons, too, so you and your friends are some of the few groups that aren’t associated with the military. Well… yet.

And not that there’s any issue with it being a military bar, of course! It’s just that… you aren’t exactly accustomed to dealing with such… bold personalities. 

While your friend group does, in fact, consist of a few colorful characters and then some, the other patrons at the bar are a little too much for your taste. You’re used to your friends making crude jokes, being loud and rowdy, and playfully flirting with you and everyone else, but when it comes to others? You aren’t exactly prepared.

You and your friends are sat around a large wooden table near the very center of the bar, a number of large splits cracking down the length of it, with one of the legs being propped up by a book due to it not being long enough to reach the floor. At least the chairs are somewhat comfortable, even if they’re nothing more than metal barstools with a bit of cushion on them.

The alcohol is fairly cheap, to everyone’s delight, especially when it’s actually good. You’d think, with the state that the bar’s interior and exterior are in, that the drinks and food would be equally as abhorrent with mold or bugs or something disgusting, but no! The food is cooked through and seasoned well, and the drinks are as they should be. So, none of you can really complain when the main attraction is enjoyable.

You all talk about anything and everything: who is sleeping with whom, what co-worker or boss got exposed for something or other, whatever celebrity drama is happening at the moment, what show or movie someone saw recently that you just have to watch. It’s a mixture of small talk and deep discussion, with the conversation flowing smoothly as everyone enjoys their food, drinks, and the company that surrounds them.

Until the first soldier approaches.

He’s young, no older than twenty-two—even that might be a bit of a stretch—dressed fully in uniform, the green camo pants he wears tucked neatly into a pair of black boots with a fitted shirt clinging tightly to his skin, emphasizing his physique. He isn’t bad-looking per se, but he definitely isn’t your type. 

He walks over by himself with a smug, self-assured grin plastered on his face as he approaches one of your friends who sits directly across from you, giving you a perfect view and earful of the interaction as you take a sip of your liquor, watching as he puts his hand on the back of her chair, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Hey there, pretty girl. You look bored over ‘ere with all of y’r friends. I could make y’r night more interestin’, y’know. You interested?”

Okay. Wow. Starting off strong.

And before you even know it, she’s giving a sheepish smile to the rest of you, apologizing and excusing herself from the table as she grabs her coat and purse from the back of her chair, waving you and everyone off before turning and hurriedly trailing behind the man like a lost puppy and out towards the car lot outside, no doubt ready and willing to get in some action of her own before the night is through.

And that’s just the beginning. After another half hour, all of your friends have either grabbed their things and said their goodbyes to go home with the soldier of their choice for the night, or they left to the bathroom or back alley, only to come back with a limp to their gait, bruised lips, marks, tousled hair, and fucked-out eyes. And if it’s the latter, it only takes them a few minutes before they leave, just like their formers.

It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of men and women alike trying to court you, either. In fact, there have been four different people who have come up to you throughout the night and have tried their hand at seducing you, whether it be shitty pick-up lines that they use or bold flirtatious remarks, some even trying to trail an eager hand across your shoulder or back as a means to further entice you.

But you haven’t failed to turn each and every single one of them down, polite as you may try to be. It’s for two separate reasons, you deduce. One is that the people who are coming up to you aren’t exactly your type, be it in terms of the way that they look or their personality, while the other reason is… slightly more straightforward.

You’re a virgin.

So, to you, it’s no surprise that you’re adamant on turning down everyone that comes up to you to try and, for lack of better wording, try to get into your pants. Your other friends who have already been approached and taken up their offers for a good fuck, be it bent over the bathroom sink, pressed up against the brick wall in the alley outside, or going home to enjoy that ecstasy in a bed, intend to spend their nights well.

They’ll be having more of a “good night” than you will, even though they’ve all wished you well with some variation of that phrase.

So, here you sit at an empty table, nursing your drink with a soft sigh, bored out of your mind as you trail your pointer finger around the rim of the glassware in a slow, calculated manner. You can’t help but feel a bit left out. Again, not as if you haven’t already been given a multitude of chances and offers that you could have taken up hours ago, but none of them—to you, at least—seem to be someone worthy of taking something as intimate as your virginity away from you.

To hold it in their palms like a trophy or medal to display with smug, overzealous pride. To flaunt, to brag about, and then to ultimately forget, because to them, your virginity doesn’t matter. It’s something that can boost their ego for a momentary period of time before shrugging off and away because it didn’t matter and wasn’t important.

So, no, you decide. None of the overconfident, liquid courage-fueled bastards are worthy of taking your virginity away from you. Thus, you only have yourself to blame for your “lack of action," so you can’t complain about it any longer when you’ve dug in your heels and chosen to stick firmly by your decision, now can you?

That is, until a particular Russian man donning aviators and a brown leather flight jacket downs his shot in one go and stands, beginning to take slow, confident strides in your direction from his previous seat positioned at a small table in the far back corner of the bar from behind you, with four men urging him on with a few whistles and cheers.

Not that he has any need for encouragement or prayers, of course.

You don’t even notice him as he approaches, because you’d assume with a man of his size and stature that you’d at the very least be able to hear his footsteps, but no. He’s completely silent until he’s right behind you, one hand holding onto the back of your chair in a casual manner while the other splays out right beside your drink as he leans into it, both next to you and behind you all at once.

You can feel his hot, vodka-soaked breath fall heavy against the exposed skin of your spine even when his mouth isn’t anywhere near you yet, still maintaining some level of control over himself and his actions. You’re unable to see the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins, thoroughly amused with the way a shiver crawls up your spine, right to where you had felt the ghost of his breath just moments ago.

That, and the flames of desire that flare up and burn behind his eyes.

“I cannot help but notice that your friends left you behind all by yourself. So cruel to do that to someone like yourself.”

You can only assume that sarcasm laces his tone with the way he puts emphasis on certain words or the way he speaks with a specific lilt, but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. He means every word he says, so, if anything, it’s pure and unbridled amusement and honesty that lace his words and the way that he speaks.

Because he does think that it’s cruel that all of your friends have left you alone with nothing more than a quick, uncaring, departing word or phrase before they rush out to follow behind and fuck some other mindless soldier who, more than likely, has already had their fair share of the bar’s civilian patrons. Your friends don’t mean anything special to those soldiers, as unfortunate as it is, but that fact in and of itself is what separates him from those men.

Even if, yes, he’s in just as much of a desperate need to get off as they are.

You have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes at his words, your pointer finger continuing to drag lazily along the rim of your glass as you work to ignore him, not exactly up for trying to craft another excuse as a means to reject whatever proposal of having sex you assume he’s come up with, content with picking up your drink and finishing it off with a slow, steady breath, letting the liquor burn down your throat with indifference.

But, unfortunately for you, that only furthers his intrigue. So, with a smirk that slowly begins to spread out wider across his lips, even if you still don’t turn to see it, he chooses to take his shot and make a move. Or, rather and more accurately put, he makes an executive decision that he won’t allow you to refuse.

“Let me buy you a drink, да? Keep you company.”

And, just as stated, he doesn’t allow you to refuse him or turn down his offer like you had done with the others, already waving and making a few hand gestures at one of the servers, calling out to them for a refill of whatever you had been drinking and to place whatever your tab had been under his card, pulling out an empty chair, and taking his place in the seat beside you, getting to see that smug smirk for yourself for the first time.

And now your in it.

He’s… surprisingly pleasant to be around, you come to find out as you begrudgingly begin to converse with him. At first, you still try to ignore him, not even touching the new drink as it’s set in front of you just yet, keeping your eyes trained on and tracing the different rings in the wood table, but, in coming to the conclusion that he isn’t going to leave you alone, you start talking.

The conversation is forced when it begins, consisting of quick responses from you that lack any emotion or indication that you want to keep speaking. But he’s patient, and he waits, and he shifts his approach to asking questions that you can’t just give one to two word responses to, forcing the conversation into something of value. And only then does it begin to flow, slowly blending into something smoother—something that you can enjoy.

You learn his name, Nikolai, tasting it on your tongue with a sip of your drink, letting the flavors and tastes seep into your palette and glide down your throat until you feel it pool and fester in the depths of your stomach. The way you say his name makes his own cheshire-esque grin wifey further, his eyes crinkling with a flicker of undeniable mischief. It’s dangerous, but it draws you in just like a siren to a sailor.

He keeps the conversation civil at first, not wanting to scare you off just yet when he’s barely captured your attention, asking a few generic questions and molding them into something of substance, giving a few answers of his own and straying away from keeping them vague, trying to be as specific as he can afford to allow as a means to keep your attention drawn in on him. 

But after you finish your drink and he moves to order you another without question, he gets bolder.

Brushes of his fingers against your bare skin, remarks and words heavy with innuendo, heavy heated breaths that fan across the space between you both, and purrs that make your head spin in the best ways possible. It’s equally overwhelming as it is underwhelming. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s doing it better than you could have ever anticipated, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You’re in over your head before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Come on, лапушка … let me give you a better night than your friends could ever even dream of having.”

His voice is heavy, as is his accent, his body turned to look at you with his face no more than a few centimeters away from your own, one of his hands busied with trailing his fingertips lazily up and down the exposed skin of your forearm, barely even touching it at all, while the other rests atop your thigh, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your pants as his thumb brushes back and forth in a methodic motion.

Nikolai’s staring down at you with these half-lidded eyes that you can barely even make out through his dark aviators, his breathing coming out in slow, shallow exhales, weighing heavy in his chest as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, gently cocking his head to the side with that same smug look that hasn’t left his face or lips since he first started to speak with you, danger dancing behind his eyes.

A warning and a question wrapped into one, questioning if you’re ready for a man like him.

You look up at him, searching for as much as a flicker of that same cocktail of overzealousness and egotism that you so easily caught in every other person’s eyes as they presented you with a similar offer, seeing you as nothing more than a warm body to accompany and please them for the evening. To be able to decline him, turn down his offer, and go home for the night… to be able to forget about him and this before you let it get out of hand.

But you can’t find it. He wants you, yes, that much you can tell, but not in the same way that they did.

“Okay. Yeah… sure. Yes.” You tell him, stumbling over your words messily, but he doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest. That smile of his edges with danger as he effortlessly moves his hand, grasping onto his aviators, taking them off and hooking them onto his shirt, his other hand leaving your thigh as he moves you in front of him, moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you around the bar towards one of the bathrooms near the back.

He stands tall from behind you, confidence radiating from his very being as he casually walks, uncaring of all the eyes that stare down at the two of you from all across the establishment as the watch, knowing full and well exactly what’s about to transpire, even if you don’t. His friends, the four, sat at the table just a few feet away from the bathroom door, sending him sly smiles and nods of approval. One of them, a bearded man wearing a bucket hat, holds up his wrist and taps at his watch, sending Nikolai a knowing look even as he grins just like the rest. You don’t exactly know what it means, but it doesn’t seem to phase the Russian in the slightest, rolling his eyes as he opens up the bathroom door, the hinges creaking loudly as it arches open, ushering you inside as he follows suit, letting it close with a groan, the lock clicking.

He’s on you in a second.

He turns you around, pressing you back roughly against the door as he crowds you against it, one of his knees wedging itself in between your thighs, shifting them apart, and one of his forearms moving to lie against the door above your head so that he can lean over and look down on you, giving you a crystal clear idea of how much bigger he truly is than you, bucking his knee up against your cunt.

A moan threatens to spill past your lips at the action, eyelids fluttering as the noise bubbles up… but he’s quick to catch it. Before it can boil over, Nikolai presses a bruising kiss to your lips, groaning into it, the sound rumbling like an earthquake from deep within his chest. A long, drawn-out “fuck” passes through his lips as he pulls away momentarily, trying desperately to catch his breath, his actions filled with lust.

His eyebrows knit together, and he bucks up his knee once more as he looks down at you, watching and relishing in the way your lips part and allowing for another sweet moan to drip past your lips, breathing stuttering, catching in your throat as he brings one of his big hands up to hold at your hip, urging you to grind against his knee, a high-pitched keen from you filling the empty space, occupied only by his heavy breaths.

“Look at you." Nikolai mumbles out, almost mockingly, taking in the sight before him of your parted lips, your shoes just barely touching the floor as he supports you on his knee, guiding you to grind along the length of it, the half-liddedness of your eyes. The sight is intoxicating, one that he desperately wants to photograph, frame, and keep to himself for as long as time allows, because, God, you’re a vision.

Nikolai dives back in for another kiss, this one lasting far longer and being much heavier—nothing short of tongue and teeth—as he loses himself in the taste of you. You aren’t much better. If anything, you’re in so much worse of a state than he is right now. You can feel your own composure crumbling apart in his hands, held together only by the taste of his lips. You can’t even fight it—not that you’d even want to in the first place.

You bring your hands up, letting them glide across his shoulders, fingers splayed, taking in the expanse of them before they go up further, tangling into his hair. The sensation forces another groan out of him, the sound trickling down your throat without a single ounce of shame, freely showing to you just how deep his need and desperation are to have you run within his bones.

“Have to… have to have you… You understand, да? You’ll let me?”

Nikolai breathes out between kisses, unable to decide whether he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your lips against his and nothing more, or if he wants to map and memorize every part of the inside of your mouth with his tongue. It’s a tough decision to make, so he opts simply to alternate between the two. It’s the best he can get of both worlds, he decides.

And your mind is finally allowed the space it’s ached for to remind you of exactly what this entire situation will lead to. 

He didn’t intend to bring you to the bathroom just to have a quick, hot and heavy make-out session with you, as nice as that would be. No! That’s not what you signed up for, dummy! The second you agreed to be led back here by him, you were giving him permission and consent to fuck you, and you know it!

“Imavirgin!”

The words come flowing out past your lips like water as you pull away from him, the back of your head falling back against the wooden door as you gasp desperately for air, breathing in quickly and out brokenly before you can even process what you’ve said, trying to regulate your breathing from the way he had taken the oxygen straight out of your lungs. And when it does catch up to what you’ve said, you feel your face burn white hot, completely flushed.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, something akin to a deer in headlights, while he looks back at you, now in the process of catching his own breath, with nothing more than a slightly confused expression as he works to pick apart your hurried, panicked words. And when it dawns on him as to what you’ve said, his pupils blow wide just a fraction, minutely, and just barely noticeable.

He doesn’t look disgusted or weirded out by your words, to your surprise, having expected that exact response from him and being wildly confused when you can’t find an inkling of that expression on his face. “That wasn’t what I asked, лапушка.”

Nikolai mumbles out to you, pressing his forehead against your own as he allows his breathing to slowly but surely level out, his dazed, lust-filled eyes boring into your own, fingers loosening gently around your hip as he watches you intently.

He doesn’t care that you’re a virgin. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest, and, if anything, it turns him on. But what he's saying now is that he wants you, but he’s asking at the same time if you’ll let him, allowing for that decision to lie completely within your control. He isn’t forcing himself upon you, still giving you the ability to say no and withdraw your consent before he pushes anything further, simply asking if you understand what he means and if you’ll let him.

So, now you’re faced with a decision. 

Do you withdraw your consent and tell him that, no, you won’t let him go any further with this? Because, quite frankly, you aren’t ready. Not ready to have sex for the first time in your life, not ready to lose your virginity, and certainly not ready to give up such an intimate part of yourself to a man you only met less than an hour ago.

Or... do you take a leap of faith without sparing a single glance beforehand and tell him that, yes, you do understand what he means, very clearly comprehending it and recognizing what’s to come with the acceptance of his proposal, and that, yes, you will let him have you and your body? That you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you, to be the one to take your virginity from you… and maybe then some.

It’s an important decision for you to make, one whose answer determines whether or not you lose your last sense of innocence. And, for better or for worse, far beyond your better judgement, you don’t spend too much time weighing the pros and cons before making your decision.

“I… ah… I understand. And… yeah, yes. Please.” Just like before, your answer comes out laced with hesitation and apprehension, both emotions undeniable, especially with the way your voice cracks and strains, leaving you to stumble and stutter over your words as you give him your answer with a shaky voice. Your hands are still tangled into his hair, albeit much looser now, but still present, the tremors that wrack through them gently tousling the dark strands.

And, after a moment, allowing his space to process what you said, Nikolai’s fingers resume their tight grip on your hip, the thick fingers bruising the skin, no doubt, even through the layers of your clothes. Never breaking eye contact with you, he pulls his head back, removing his forehead from its spot pressed against yours, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, his tongue gliding over the skin of his teeth.

“Умница.”

Nikolai mumbles out with praise, his voice barely louder than a whisper, though gruff and gravely beyond belief, a testament to his desire, moving his hand down for your hip to cup and grope at your ass through your pants, the other quickly following suit as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips so as not to fall. Even if he wouldn’t ever let that happen in the first place, of course.

With your legs wrapped so tightly around his hips, you can very easily feel the hardness of his cock, even through all of the layers of clothing that separate you. You feel your breath hitch and stutter as it comes out shakily, your eyes boring into his own with parted lips and an open mouth, so unaware of what he has in store for you.

Oh, sweetheart, he’s going to fucking ruin you.

Unlike before, his footsteps are heavy as they move against the tiled floor of the bathroom, the thuds filling the space between the two of you, mixed with your own shared heavy breaths as he moves to, rather unceremoniously, drop you onto the long sink that lines one of the walls. Your legs dangle over the edge of it, and your thighs spread apart so far that you can feel your pants straining to accommodate them and the burn of your thighs as he stands between them.

He brings you back in for another kiss, his body towering over your own as he forces you to lean back against the cold mirror behind you, a shiver crawling up the length of your spine as you moan into his mouth, earning a pleased groan from him, just like before. His hands move, hooking into the loops of your pants as he forces them down, not even requesting for you to lift up your ass to make it easier, doing all the work for himself.

Nikolai’s tongue glides along your bottom lip, teasing its way into your mouth. His teeth clink against your own, and the kiss is sloppy and messy in a way that makes you moan out, whining softly. They’re two sounds that he eagerly swallows from your lips and drinks in like wine. He roughly shoves your pants the rest of the way down, moving them around and off of one foot so they dangle off of the other, the leg dragging against the floor.

Pulling back, Nikolai chuckles darkly at the way you try to cling to him, gently and desperately tugging at his hair with a whimper, trying to urge him back down for another kiss. He clicks his tongue, tutting at you with disapproval, shaking his head as he does so, giving you a warning look that quickly makes you remove your hands from their position, letting them come to fist at his shirt, gripping onto it with desperation.

“Нет. None of that. You're so eager for something that you have never even had. You don’t know how to act. We have to fix that, да?” It’s condescending that the way Nikolai speaks, mocking you and making fun of you for how desperate you are when he hasn’t even done anything of real substance yet—nothing more than a bit of making out and thigh grinding—has you acting out of line. Granted, you don’t really know where that line stands, given that you haven’t ever done this before, but he’s here to show you. To teach you and ingrain into you the role that you play beneath him.

Nikolai brings one of his hands up, cupping your chin and holding it tightly and firmly between his thumb and forefinger, the others pressed against the side of your throat, tilting it upwards as you strain your neck to keep up with the action. He inches his thumb up further, looking down at and watching you with narrowed eyes, cold and calculating as he presses them against your lips, feeling the way you exhale shakily out of your nose.

“Open.” It’s not a request, as you can tell, so you don’t waste any time looking at him with confusion, simply parting your lips for him and opening your mouth, just as he’s requested. He doesn’t even give you a moment to fully comprehend what's happening as he pushes his thumb past your lips, presses the rough pad down onto your tongue, and hooks it behind your teeth as he pulls you closer to him.

Drool begins to pool inside your mouth as you look up at him with wide eyes, trying to speak, to whine, and to say something, but he tightens his grip in response, growling lowly. It’s your second warning.

“I thought you were a smart girl? Didn’t I say that? Умница, Да? Act like one.”

His other hand, the one currently positioned near your calf, not having moved since pulling your pants roughly down your legs, inches its way upwards, brushing against the exposed skin and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Teasing, maybe, but it further ingrains his point into your head that, if you don’t start to behave and let him do the work, you won’t be getting any satisfaction or pleasure out of this.

He doesn’t care if this is your first time or not, and it’s not in a dismissive or cruel way. He’s simply treating you like he would any other person that he was going to have sex with, so it’s a mixture of equal rights and equal opportunity, you suppose. Whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing is… undetermined.

His palm presses against your thigh, fingers splayed as they continue to inch upward, branding your skin with the heat they exude, and, as much as you want to buck your thigh up into his palm and beg for him to rush and hurry up, you don’t. Because, lucky for you, that critical thinking skill is starting to work, the gears in your head are turning and allowing you the space to think. You have to be patient and good if you want what he can give you.

So, rather hesitantly, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently gliding and swirling your tongue around his thumb, covering it in the slick, sticky saliva that pools in your mouth, looking up at him as you wait, playing that role of the smart girl that he wants you to be. Not rushing, not hurrying, and not begging.

And, oh, are you rewarded for it.

Nikolai lets out another deep and heavy "fuck," but this time it’s shaky and strained, the heat and movement of your tongue against his skin lighting up fireworks in his body that go straight down to his cock. His composure slips, if only momentarily, before he picks it right back up, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down onto it roughly, shakily breathing as he watches you with half-lidded eyes and a twitching grin.

“There you go. Much better.”

Nikolai’s fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, his eyes breaking away from your face as he looks down and leans his body back slightly, watching his own actions as, with one finger, he moves them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to his wanting eyes, pushing it until it touches your other thigh, using his fingers to spread out your folds, listening to the squelching sounds they make.

He gently presses his thumb to your entrance, not yet pushing inwards, simply moving it around the area with purpose, listening to the sounds that it makes—a perfect symphony, if you were to ask him. He drags the pad of it upwards just as slowly, letting it glide and trail over the length of your pussy until he reaches your clit, his eyes flickering up at you as he presses down against it, making slow, gentle circles around it, watching you.

Even with your mouth wrapped around his thumb, you let out the prettiest moan, muffled into a hum as your hips jerk upwards unintentionally at his actions. Your eyelids flutter, twitching and arching your back in a quick spasmed motion, and he drinks in the sight of it with greed, his breaths so hot and heavy as he watches.

You’re going to put him in an early grave, Nikolai thinks to himself. How is he going to survive when you’re so good and so eager for him? Letting him play with your pretty pussy like this, toying and playing with it as if the action were innocent in nature without arguing, whining, and begging for more?

He’s being so mean to you when it’s your first time. He should be treating you so sweetly and nicely, shouldn't he? He should’ve sunk his cock into you a while ago, broken you in, and given you the soft lovemaking you deserve to have. He should’ve made you cum already; feel you squeeze him and listen to you make more of those pretty sounds that he’s starting to crave like a drug.

But that isn’t the man Nikolai is. But, then again, he can still recognize and appreciate your actions. He can still praise you and give you something of substance before he lets himself take away your innocence and let his most perverse thoughts run wild.

Taking his thumb out of your mouth and watching the drool drip down from it, Nikolai places it into his own mouth, sucking your taste from it until it’s clean. Only then does he bring his middle and ring fingers to your lips. And now, you know exactly what to do without instruction, leaning forward and taking them into your mouth, gagging softly as you take them as far back as you can, your tongue drooling and licking all over them, wetting them thoroughly.

And this time when he removes them, he quickly moves on to shift them to your other set of lips, smearing the saliva all over your cunt, right near your entrance. He teases the tip of one of his fingers around it, pressing in gently and slowly, taking his sweet time. His fingers are so much thicker than your own; one of them is akin to the width of two of your own.

It doesn’t hurt, nor does it strain too much. It’s bearable—something you can handle. That is, until he works to ease the second finger in, letting you get used to the feeling of one of his fingers inside of you for only a few moments before pressing the second one in. And this time, instead of your breath simply catching in your throat, it’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, leaving you gaping and gasping. "O-oh, fuck, please."

You whisper out softly, your voice breaking into a whimper as your back fully arches against the mirror, your jaw slack as you moan out pathetically, closing it only to swallow the saliva in your mouth down harshly, making an audible gulp, before opening it once more, breathing out heavily with whimpers falling from your lips as he eases it in further. The burn from the stretch has you dizzy in the head—a mixture of pain from the sting of it and the pleasure of being filled so well.

Nikolai smiles slyly, pushing in all the way until his fingertip brushes against your cervix, cooing to you in a degrading manner as you cry out, your thighs instinctively squeezing together, trying to urge him away.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” Nikolai muses with a smug grin spread out across his lips, taunting you with the way he spreads his fingers out into a v-shape. He struggles against the tightness of your cunt, feeling your walls gripping onto him like a vice, but not stopping either way. He’s pushing you to your limits, maybe even far beyond them at this point, but everything he’s doing is sending your mind into a blurry haze of pleasure.

So much as him mentioning stopping makes you want to sob.

“No! No, no no no, please no. Please don’t stop. Please.”

You beg him with your breathing bordering on hyperventilation from how quickly you’re inhaling and exhaling, with a tone raw with emotion and desperation, just as it was before, but the contexts feel so different this time. You spread your legs impossibly wider, that burn from before feeling like nothing in comparison to the way he’s stretching you out right now, his fingers knuckle deep into you.

Nikolai lets out an amused hum in response, slowly closing his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze him and force them back together, before spreading them out wide once more, his thumb creeping its way up towards your clit. You can barely notice it, too busy moaning for him and trying your best to keep your legs spread as much as your body tries to fight it. Unshed tears brim at your eyes, a testament to how good it all feels.

And when his thumb eventually makes its way to your clit, applying pressure as it moves in slow circles, you swear on everything you hold dear that you could cum then and there. Your eyes roll back into your head the second he presses his fingers back together and starts to curl them upwards, hitting that gummy spot that makes your body go rigid with tension.

“Good. I need to get you ready for me, after all. It will not do either of us any good if you cannot take all of me.”

If you had even half of your brain working, you might be able to formulate some kind of response to his words, but, with your mind so overwhelmed with pleasure, all you can do is squeeze his fingers tighter and moan like a whore. He continues his motions of pumping and curling his fingers inside of you, his thumb gradually picking up its pace, swirling tighter, quicker circles around your clit.

You’re mouth is perpetually open, and all the sounds that rise up deep within your throat are bubbling up without a single barrier to block them, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt with no intention of letting go. Nikolai takes them all in with pride, every sound fueling his ego and his desires, only encouraging him further to quicken his motions. With the way your whines get higher in pitch and the way your body tenses, he can practically taste how close you are.

His free hand moves up your chest, slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and hooking his thumb beneath your bra, pushing both upwards. He stuffs the fabric of your shirt into your mouth, muffling your moans, and, while it isn’t necessarily his intention to do so, he just has to get a look at your tits.

He can see how hard your nipples are and the way your tits jerk and bounce softly with every catch and stutter of your breath, and the sight drives him just as wild as the picture of his fingers stuffed inside of you with a mixture of your drool and slick smeared messily around your cunt and all over his knuckles.

Nikolai can’t stop himself as he leans forward, ensuring that you meet his eyes with a gentle tap of his fingers against your cheek when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it and his teeth gently grazing against it with a teasing bite. That sight and those sensations, combined with the way he’s been abusing your poor, puffy clit and pussy with his fingers, are all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you with the force of a truck, completely knocking the wind out of you. Your breathing catches in your throat before stopping altogether for a moment, all of the blood in your body seemingly rushing to your ears. Your thighs snap shut, squeezing tightly around his wrist, and your eyes roll back into your head as far as they can go as you cum around his fingers, gushing and leaving them covered in your essence.

He lets you ride it out without saying a word, simply watching with a grin as you lose yourself in ecstasy—the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and he knows it. The very sight of you like that has him gritting his teeth, growling out a low “yeah, there you go" against your chest as he detaches his mouth from your nipple, watching as you come undone, slowing down the movements of his fingers and thumb to let you ride out the waves of your orgasm undisturbed.

Your breathing stutters, that familiar glossy haze covering your eyes as you come back down to earth, blinking up dumbly at him as you regain your sense of awareness, opening and closing your jaw. All of that tension dissipates from your body with ease, fizzing out, leaving you practically boneless atop the bathroom sink, working on catching your breath as you try to remember how to think.

As you do that, looking down, Nikolai slowly pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes completely blown out as he watches the way your body tremors with aftershocks, shivering once he’s completely pulled out. Just like he knew they would be, his knuckles are covered in a ring on white, and the length of his fingers smeared with your cum and slick, soaked.

He wants to taste it; truly, he does, but that would just ruin what comes next.

Blinking, slowly coming out of the fog that the afterglow of your orgasm covers you in, you watch as Nikolai pulls back, bringing his hand away from your face as he brings it down towards his lower half, mumbling under his breath in Russian as he makes work of his belt singlehandedly, loosening it just enough that he can unbutton and unzip his pants. He doesn’t even shove them down his legs to kick them off fully, simply maneuvering the waistband of his boxers beneath his balls to free his cock.

And the sight of it sobers you up quickly.

How the fuck does he expect you to fit him inside of you?

“You’ll take it.” He tells you without missing a beat, confident, practically reading your mind because he’s become well acquainted with that very look that crossed over your features when you saw it. It makes him chuckle, if anything, using his hand covered in your juices and smearing it all across his length, and you can’t help but watch greedily at the sight, understanding exactly why he’s so obsessed with sound with the way the smearing of your slick and cum fills the air between you.

Nikolai takes a step back, not yet bringing his eyes away from the sight of his cock as he mixes your juices with his own pre-cum, eyebrows knitting as he loses himself in his own thoughts. After a moment, he clicks his tongue. The sound immediately catches your attention, effortlessly making you perk up and shift your eyes from his cock to his face.

“Get down from there and turn around. I want you bent over this sink.”

Oh, fuck. This is really happening.

You nod at him, gulping down harshly as you shuffle your body towards the edge of the sink until your ass is to the very edge of it, pressing the tips of your toes against the floor as you hop off of it. Granted, you nearly collapse, not having anticipated the force of your orgasm to leave you incapable of standing on your own, but, thankfully, your tight grip on the rim keeps you standing.

Nikolai lets out a huff of amusement at the sight, making no move to assist you as you awkwardly turn yourself around while still holding onto the edge, legs wobbling and shaking as you stand in front of the sink. Now, with the change in position, you can truly see just how fucked-out you look in the mirror, just like your friends had been once before on the chance that you saw them before they left tonight.

Your hair’s a mess, strands stringing out in every direction, fuzzy with static, and your lips are completely swollen and bruised from how hard Nikolai kissed you. Drool dribbles past the side of your mouth and down your chin, eyes red from unshed tears, pupils blown out and darker than you ever would have imagined they would be. You look like an entirely different person in some ways, but in others, you look exactly the same.

But Nikolai doesn’t exactly have time for you to admire yourself in the mirror, so, with a grumble, he takes a step forward, moving his hand to your upper back, seemingly sweet and intimate with his actions, before roughly pressing you down against the sink, your nipples coming into contact with the cold surface of it, making you moan out and shiver. With his free hand, he pulls your panties down to your thighs, ensuring they won’t be in the way or an issue, before moving his hand back to hold onto his cock.

“You can admire yourself when you’re wrapped around me, лапушка. I gave you a command, so… I expect you to listen to it. Поняла?”

He kicks your feet further apart with his boots, gliding his hand down the expanse of your back and moving your shirt up the slightest bit so he can admire your ass. He taps his cock against the curve of your ass, obsessed with the wet sound it makes, letting out a deep, gutteral groan as he trails his tip along it lazily, tilting his head to the side. His thumb gently caresses the skin, rubbing up and down in a small area before suddenly removing it, only to bring it down with a harsh smack against it.

The sensation makes you lurch forward, yelping out loudly, completely caught off guard, not having expected it in the slightest. As much as you want to say that you don’t like it… the way that your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation combined with the breathless moan you let out is undeniable. It’s an easy indication of your desires and how much you truly enjoy the sting it leaves behind on your ass.

“I said поняла?”

Nikolai growls out, breath fanning along your neck as you hear his voice right next to your ear, his hand pressing down into your lower back to support himself as he lines himself up with your entrance, bringing his tip to glide up and down through your folds, the squelching sound it makes causing you both to shutter in anticipation. You let out a pitiful whine at the feeling, one that earns you another harsh smack against your other cheek, forcing tears to your eyes.

“I don’t know Rus-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your words before he’s plunging his cock into you, pressing through your entrance and bottoming out in one swift thrust, enveloping himself in your soaked heat.

“Ебена мать!”

Nikolai curses out, muffling himself as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to taste blood. The squeeze of your tight pussy around him is enough to make him feel lightheaded and dizzy, gasping as he takes in a shuttering breath and pressing his forehead between your shoulderblades as he pants.

He fills you up completely with his cock, stretching your already sore cunt far past its limits as his tip presses against your cervix. Your eyes are forced to screw shut tightly as you try to grasp onto anything, but, alas, the countertop that spreads out along the edge of the sink is completely smooth, leaving you helpless.

You dig your fingers into your palms as a solution, your knuckles turning white as you press your forehead against the cool surface, trying desperately to ground yourself as a means to combat the stinging pain that comes with the stretch. The sensation is overwhelming, with all of your nerves feeling as if they’ve been lit ablaze.

It makes you want to writhe—to wriggle yourself out of his hold and scramble away from just how much it aches and burns. But, as you wait, your breath coming out in strained, stuttered breaths, you realize that he isn’t moving whatsoever. He keeps himself buried inside of you, completely still, his chest pressed against your back, as he breathes in with considerable effort and breathes out with just as much strain.

So, as the both of you lay there waiting for the pain to subside, you’re able to focus on and enjoy the feeling and be completely and utterly full. When Nikolai had his fingers inside of you earlier, you thought that that sensation was the most full you were going to feel. But, with the way that his cock leaves no extra space inside of you, filling you to the brim in a way where you can feel him bulging out against your tummy, you realize how enjoyable the sensation is.

It’s intimate and almost comforting, in a way, to have someone fill you up completely.

So, as you lie there, focusing on that sensation, you can feel that initial discomfort and overwhelmingness dissipate, leaving you solely with that fullness. It feels good, you come to find out, much better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and all you can think about is how much better you know that Nikolai can make it. So, you choose to gently press your ass back into him, taking him in impossibly deeper and giving him the subtle indication that you’re ready.

You feel him suck in a sharp breath that fands out against your skin. In a slow, fluid motion, he draws his hips back, pulling his cock out far enough that only the tip of it is left inside of you, before giving a gentle thrust to his hips and plunging himself back into you. The two of you moan out simultaneously, the sound he makes being more of a groan in nature and yours more of a whine, feeling the way he moves his hand to hold at your waist.

“Nik…” You whine out to him, your voice cracking into breathlessness as you feel him thrust slowly in and out of, the desire to beg for more threatening to pass through your lips, but the harsh squeeze he gives to either of your hips shuts you up instantly, listening to the way he strains to breathe and speak, rolling his hips with each thrust, ensuring he can get as deep inside of you as he can, his tip brushing against your cervix each time without fail.

Nikolai lets out a particularly heavy breath, grunting as he snaps his hips with a bit more force into you. Steadily, he begins to pick up speed with each in and out of his cock, much to your delight, losing himself in the wet, squishy noises it makes with the motion.

“I am going to fucking ruin you. Mold you to my cock so that nobody will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do.”

He mumbles it out, primarily to himself, even though you can clearly hear it, standing up and leaning back slightly. He lazily turns his head to the side, eyes focused on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing with each thrust he makes, trailing up the length of your back and looking into the mirror, getting to witness it from a different perspective. The vision makes his cock twitch inside of you, forcing another groan out of him.

Taking one of his hands away from your hip, Nikolai reaches it upwards, finding the base of your neck, fingers splaying out as they cup the back of your head, before reaching forwards, tangling themselves into the strands of your hair, and pulling. The motion forces your back to arch, your head lifting away from the expanse of the sink, your eyes boring into… your own, the mirror giving you a perfect view of yourself.

Jaw slack, drool dripping past your lips, tongue out, eyes blown wide, hair a mess of strands, tits out, bent over with the prettiest sounds freely falling from your lips as you get fucked from behind in a shitty bar bathroom by a man you’ve barely met an hour ago. Nikolai takes in the same scene, his eyes watching yours as you focus on yourself, grunting out with each thrust, shamelessly making noise to properly translate just how much he’s enjoying this.

“But you would like that, да? To be unable to enjoy anyone else fucking you because I’m the one who took you first.”

Another slap to your ass leaves you reeling, your eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts himself in deep, snapping his hips with a roughness that forces the air out of your lungs before you can even take in another breath. You feel him readjust his grip on your hair, forcing your back to arch even further as he growls, bouncing you along the length of his cock as he fucks into you with vigor.

The coil that resides in your lower stomach begins to slowly but surely tighten with each thrust, accompanied by your own pathetic moaning, whining, and keening—those beautiful tears falling down the length of your face without anything to hold them back. Your eyes glisten, flickering away from your own expression as you opt to watch his own, seeing the way he bites onto his bottom lip to hold back his moans and whines, even as he fails to do so without any resistance.

“Such a desperate whore for my cock, aren’t you? It is amusing how you’ve never had sex yet act like a slut.” Nikolai coos out cruelly, emphasizing his words with a particular harsh thrust that has you drooling, letting his own hand grip at your waist as he pulls you back into each thrust, ensuring he bottoms out each and every time without fail. The obscene sound of his balls slapping against your soaked, sticky cunt fills the air. You can feel his tip slam against that spongey spot on your inner walls—the one that makes your toes curl and leaves you feeling boneless—and when he hears the sound you make, he’s relentless in focusing all of his attention right there.

God, it makes you see stars. You feel so unbelievably full in a way you’ve never felt before, each thrust of his thick, fat cock ripping the air from your lungs, leaving you sweaty and breathless. It’s overwhelming, yet in a way that makes you never want it to stop. Drool drips onto the counter from your tongue, hanging off in stringy globs, flicking back and forth with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, your walls closing in on him with a grip that leaves him groaning and growling, completely pussydrunk off of you as his eyes catch on to all of the different telltale signs he’s coming to learn from you.

The way your eyelids twitch when your eyes roll back, the way your whole body tenses up with anticipation, and the way your noises get so much higher pitched

He’s never letting you go after this, he decides. Nobody is going to get to have you once he’s done with you—once he’s claimed you. He was your first, and he’d be damned if he let anyone other than himself be your second, your third, and so on and so forth.

“Come on, красивая вещь. Cum on my cock. You can do it.”

Nikolai growls out, his fingers bruising against the flesh of your waist as he holds on to tightly, as if you’d slip through his fingers if he were to loosen it, if only by a fraction. And you’ve learned from your lesson before that, being a smart girl and knowing to do what he says when he says it, so your body instinctively reacts to his command. Blinding, white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, ever nerve ending in your body, feeling like it’s on fire when you gush around him. You feel your entire body go rigid with tension,your, heart stopping for a moment, unable to breathe or see from just how hard you cum.

Oh, you feel like jelly. If you thought you were boneless before, the way his grip on your hair is the only thing keeping you up right now really shows you what “bonelessness” feels like. 

Your entire body convulses, spasming and twitching and jerking you as you fight the overstimulation of him still ruthlessly pounding into your pussy, whining and keening as you babble out incoherently at him, everything making you so dizzy with pleasure. Nikolai himself isn’t that much farther behind you, the squeeze of your pussy bringing him teetering over the edge, barely able to pull out in time with a strained grunt of your name as hot, thick cum spurts from his twitching cock.

Ropes of it leak from his cock, painting pretty white lines against your ass as he groans out gutturally, leaning his head back as he basks in his own pleasure. He pants out heavy, each breath strained with effort as he blinks, chest heaving as he struggles to regain control over his own breathing, letting his eyes drop back down to admire the scene before him. There’s this dazed, lopsided smile that’s spread out across your lips, your eyes glazed over with ecstasy, just like before, but the difference in seeing your fucked-out face cockdrunk off of him. Oh, that just makes it all the better.

He blinks a few times, his jaw slack as he swallows down his own saliva and pants, his hand moving to smear his cum messily along your ass, rubbing it into your skin as if it were lotion. He knows it’ll stick to his own clothes if he does, but he can’t help himself nor care as he leans himself against you, bending over you, allowing himself to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades as his body comes down from such an intense high.

Seeing you like this, having you like this… it’s something he doubts he could ever leave.

His breaths come into sync with your own; the steady breathing, lungs filling with air, and breathing out, expelling all of that air, is an action that the both of you focus on as one, uncaring about anything else but this moment. You feel him mumble something against your back, unable to make it out through the haze of your afterglow, unable to hear all the whispers of praise he allocates to you, pressing gentle kisses against your shirt.

The moment is undeniably intimate, something you may not suspect from him, especially given the way that he treated you. But it makes sense, the way he has this imposing and overwhelmingly dominating persona that he leans on, yet can be equally caring and loving when the situation requires it. It’s a delicate balance that he maintains, further proving the extents of his own control, both over his partners and himself, and you can’t help but appreciate and admire it.

But unfortunately, the calm atmosphere that begins to settle between the two of you is so rudely interrupted by the sound of multiple harsh, sharp poundings against the door to the bathroom. Even though the door remains locked, which, thank God, Nikolai had done, the handle still gets jiggled with haste. Muffled, barely audible conversation can be heard happening from beyond the door, but it doesn’t seem like, according to your actions, that each of you cares all that much.

“Nikolai! Hurry up in there. If you don’t come out soon, we’re taking your truck back and leaving you here.”

A gruff, deep Scouse accent barks out, muffled only by the barrier of the wooden bathroom door that continues to shake from the sheer force of the pounding the knocks have been making against it. Nikolai groans out with a mixture of frustration and annoyance against the fabric of your shirt, still working to catch his breath as his pants begin to slow down, the heat of them seeping through the fabric and sticking to your skin.

“Maybe I should let him…” He mumbles out for only you to hear, his palm gently rubbing up and down the curve of your ass, working to soothe that ache that lingers from his harsh, sharp smacks. He presses a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, trailing his lips upwards as he follows your spine and the curve of your neck, leading him to make his way to press them along the edge of your jawline. The sensation makes you let out a shuttering breath, which is uneven and shaky in nature.

The afterglow of your orgasm still lingers, mixing in with the dull ache left behind by the rough way he treated your cunt, your mind hazy as it swirls with pleasure, focusing on those sensations and nothing else, not even his words. You let out a soft hum in response, still fucked out and dumb without a single thought occupying the space in your head, not even knowing what it is exactly that you’re acknowledging. It makes him chuckle.

“Good first time; I take it, then?” He muses smugly, knowing full well that you won’t be able to give him a proper answer. But, with the look that shines behind your eyes and the state that he’s left you in, he doesn’t even have to ask that question to know the answer to it. 

So, with a heavy and reluctant sigh, pressing one last kiss to your jawline, he pulls himself back. Gently, he moves to rest your head back down against the sink, turning his gaze downward as he tucks his softening cock back into his boxers. He pulls back up his pants, re-buttoning and zipping them, and fastening his belt through the loops. He composes himself after doing so, smoothing down his clothes and checking himself in the mirror. 

Well, as composed as a man who just fucked can, you guess. Then he moves on to you. He presses gently kisses along your exposed skin, helping your boneless form readjust your bra and pull down your shirt, pulling back up your panties and pants, ensuring they’re all situated as he gives you a once-over from behind, pulling you against him as he checks you out in the mirror in front of you. A kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes still half-lidded and a smirk adorning his lips.

“Come on, лапушка. Focus. It will be hard to walk if your legs don’t work, да?”

He teases lightheartedly, helping bring you back to reality as he helps you stand, your knees buckling instantly, but he never lets go of you once, remaining patient as the pins and needles slowly but surely dissipate, and you’re able to stand on your own, finally able to string a sentence together and cultivate coherent thoughts Still leaning into him, even if you don’t need his support anymore, you let out a soft whine laced with disapproval.

He hums, wordlessly acknowledging you.

"I don't want you to go." You complain, drawing out the last syllable as you voice out your thoughts to him, not at all ready to depart and go back by yourself. To, quite possibly and realistically, never see him again once he leaves. You aren’t ready for that, as selfish as it might be to admit. He chuckles at your words, not out of malice but out of loving amusement, gently turning you around so that you’re facing him, tilting your head up with one of his fingers curled under your chin. 

“Well… I suppose my comrades can find their own way home, don’t you think? They’re capable enough. You, however…”

He trails off with a chuckle, wordlessly acknowledging your state with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, to which you can only whine out into the air between you both, clearly not amused as he is by his words. But once you’re actually able to register what he means by that, you look up at him with parted lips, that dumb expression still on your face, but now it’s more endearing than anything.

He leans forward, the scruff of his facial hair scratching gently against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger around the area for a few moments before ultimately pulling back.

“Let me take you home. You might have lost your virginity, but… that was only in one position. I think it’s only fair I help you lose it in all of them, don’t you think?”

It’s cocky and overwhelmingly confident—exactly what made you turn down the others who had tried their luck convincing you to have sex with them earlier in the night—but, coming from Nikolai, it’s a trait of his that has you hooked. Be it good or bad, you can’t find any part of yourself that’s inclined to refuse his open offer. So, with a dopey, lopsided smile that spreads out across your lips, you nod, accepting.

Because he’s right: it’s only fair.

Умница - smart girl

апушка - sweetheart

Нет - no

Да - yes

Поняла - understand

Ебена мать - holy shit

Красивая вещь - beautiful thing

[nrdmssgs]

Welcome to my TED talk on "Nikolai has no shame whatsoever".

Masterlist