#nikto coded

[madstronaut]

I can hear it now....nikto going pspspspsps to this thing

you know how it is with spaghetti

[asimpforthe80s]

Since the last poll ended in a tie, I decided to make another one😅

[nrdmssgs]

“I’m so sorry, I will fix it. Just don’t leave. I will fix everything. Don’t leave me alone. I will fix myself. I will fix my goddamn head! Just don’t-“

“Not going anywhere. I love every last part of you.”

[just-some-user-hunny]

Thinking about guard-dog coded Nikto...

He's the grizzled paw that settles upon your waist when he walks with you late at night after a spontaneous late night trip to the shops- the glare he shot you when you tried to roll out of bed, muttering something about wanting ice-cream, and before you know it he's putting his boots on and not letting you leave the room without him. He's the hardened cold glare akin to grit and ice directed towards people who make you shrink in discomfort. The bark of a gruff demanding voice whenever that asshole at the mechanic shop tries to overcharge you again on a simple tire air refill. Nikto is happy like this. They're happy like this. trailing at your heels, Dutiful and watchful. There is no leash- nothing but an unspoken devotion that he'd happily fashion into one, one that he'd happily tuck into your hand to keep.

But he's also the sleepy soft lapdog who'll settle his head upon your knees for some needed rest, solemn and calm. Grumbling softly as you stroke the untarnished side of his face with your lovely warm fingertips. The face that peeks into the bathroom whilst you shower because you're taking longer than usual and he's concerned that you're hurt- nyet. Don't mind him- yes dear, it's best he sits by the sink and waits here. Just in case. He'll help brush your teeth after, yes? He likes that. Knows you like it too by that knowing glint in his eye.

He needs something soft to guard- something to protect. Nikto knows his life is safe in your palms, please let him do the same for you.

[simp4konig]

I'm so normal about Nikto rn

Mildly nsfw?? Idk just a heads up

But just

Nikto, gripping her hips, thinking to himself: She's just being friendly- she's just being friendly- think pure thoughts

Y/N, sitting on his lap and holding his face hostage between her titties, thinking to herself: I wonder when he's gonna make the first move... do I have to make it if he doesn't? Oh my god what if I've been reading him wrong all along and he doesn't even like me??

Nikto: Well, maybe I am obsessed with you

Y/N: Well, maybe I like that :lipbite:

Flirtatious Reader x ...Dense? Nikto

Fem! Reader coded, BUT it can be viewed as gender-neutral if you squint. 🩷💟💜

Word Count: 2237

🪼

Reader is addressed as "You". No Y/N used.

May be self-indulgent. May be a projection of my own feelings. Oops. 🙊

Please read the * at the end of the post for my clarification 💙🩵🤍.

Edit: Minor typos. I fucking hate EVERYTHING!!!

❗SUGGESTIVE CONTENT AND SOME DISTURBING IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT ❗ (No sex nor anything overly grotesque, but includes some descriptions of both). Readers are warned for suggestive content.

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Well.

The title is perhaps a teeny, weeny little tiny bit misleading 🤏…

…

…Who am I kidding 💀,, it's as misleading as it gets LMAO

Because let's not kid ourselves here: Nikto is NOT "dense", NOT an "oblivious" man, NOR is he the type to be misinformed about someone's objective[s].

Nikto is a perceptive man — he's interrogated enough people to know what makes them tick, to distinguish lie from truth.

If somebody's intentions aren't innocent and they have ulterior motives, Nikto is always the first to know; it's his job to be informed, after all.

Hence, he notices the intonations of someone's voice growing or lowering, the imperceptible change in pitch, their nervous stutter as they unconvincingly concoct a lie, how their testimony does not align with the facts, and how they've suddenly become fidgety and shift from his scrutiny...

Hence, he recognises the subtle shifts in someone's facial expressions, can read between the lines of their non-verbal gestures, their change in behaviour, their overall unease expressed without them realising it, how they're giving themselves away no matter what they say…

Hence, he takes notices the way that someone fiddles agitatedly with something in their hands, how they pick at their nails in an almost panicked way or dig their fingernails into the skin of their palms, how they're biting their bottom lip or chewing on their cheek, how their smile is lopsided and doesn't quite reach their eyes, how they avert their gaze…

Nikto is anything but perceptive. He isn't oblivious — not "ignorant", not "unaware", and certainly not "stupid", or any other words synonymous with the previous — especially when it regards what people think of him.

How people think that he's disgusting.

How everyone avoids him like the Black Death, as if he's diseased and close proximity could kill you. As if his disfigurements were contagious, and the best bet would be to stay far, far away from the diseased.

Therefore, he's not oblivious that the words which you would whisper into the brocoli ears obscured by his mask are innuendo for something for more; he's not oblivious of the sexual nature of your hands absentmindedly caressing his lower abdomen, simply inches from his clothed crotch; he's not oblivious that your touches are quite risqué, that you would provoke him on purpose, that you would sit directly on his lap and feign innocence as you would flutter your eyelashes and smile ever so sweetly.

Nikto is perceptive. Very perceptive. And he's certainly not stupid...

...they just don't perceive your flirtatious actions as anything other than some joke.

So, he has rationalised your flirtatious behaviour as friendliness. As how you express your personal affection. Or, affectations.

Whatever it is that you're expressing, it must be a joke. Surely.

Since you're the Beauty, he's the Beast. But, unlike the Beast, he is a monster which cannot be redeemed. He's been cursed to suffer mortal purgatory, while immortal, demonic voices haunt him every hour, every minute, every second of every day. It's torture.

And you want to torture him some more by tormenting him with your unashamedly forward displays, your devilish seduction, tempting him into finally taking what he's been desiring ever since you arrived in his life.

How could you want him? Do you even want him?

No. You don't. There is no way that you do.

Because he's not talkative like some of the other operators, not hilarious like the colleagues who make you laugh, not affectionate like a lover could, not good company, not a good person as a whole.

He's introverted to a concerning amount, so silent that sometimes he appears deceased as he lies next to you on the nights you come over.

Maybe it all used to come naturally to him, but it's a struggle to feign his role as a functioning human being, so to actually be one? Sometimes he questions if he's more monster than man, as that role seems to be effortless.

Perhaps this is all some heartless idea of a practical joke, some sort of sick sense of satisfaction arising in you to toy with Nikto's emotions. And, like a child bored of that toy, discard it in favour of a newer, better, prettier one.

Why would you want to be around him? What is there to like? Is there even anything to like?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Because what's there to like? Frankly, if he doesn't like himself — or selves — then how could he expect you to like him? All of him? Them?

This isn't affection, he would tell himself; either it's disingenuous and forced, or you're faking it for your own amusement.

Or... maybe it is genuine, and it isn't fake... but it's all an act of pity, since you feel sympathy for the lonely outcast and have some sort of strange moral obligation to a lunatic as fucked-up, ugly, and disfigured as him, whose been unable to have a meaningful relationship — platonic or otherwise — in years.

Especially right now, with you straddling his lap and cradling his masked face in between your breasts, he still can't wrap his head around it, and it's all incomprehensible.

At times, Nikto has considered that he's overthinking it, and that you have no ill intentions, and you're just innocent and clueless with how much you affect him.

And it would have been endearing if it wasn't so fucking frustrating.

With that in mind, for him to make the first move and jeopardise what he thought you thought was a strictly platonic friendship? He couldn't be more sorry, and would leave you alone forever and never speak to you again, even if it was physically painful and equivalent to ripping his own heart out and squeezing it until its contents popped — just for the pain and the heartache to go away forever.

...

Seriously. It's so fucking frustrating, and it's as if he's being wilfully ignorant or something, and doing it on fucking purpose.

He's delusional, yes, and you've always acknowledged the fact that more than a few screws were loose, but the entire mechanism, but it pisses you off that he continues to delude himself, rather than accept that your affection is genuine, and not some cruel joke.

You don't get bored of him, and won't. Ever.

Yes, he's not talkative, but you find solace in presence and relish the peace and quiet; yes, his sense of humour is nonexistent, but you don't need to be laughing when he still brings a loving smile to your lips; yes, he's introverted, but does that really matter? To you, you being the exception to his isolation is worth everything.

Do you care that he's not a good person? No. To some extent, neither are you — you're no saint yourself. Nikto's morals may not be grey, but smudged entirely, and his methods questionable…

…and? You don't have it in you to care. Because it has reached a point where Nikto genuinely cares for you, and you likewise for him, and his actions demonstrated what he could never convey through words; that he would never, ever hurt you. And that's enough.

As for him not being naturally affectionate?

Well. You've tried everything: guiding his hands onto your hips; sitting in his lap and straddling his lower half, arms around his neck; hell, even flashed your tits under the guise of the clasp of your unintentionally becoming undone, and, oh, could you please do it for me, Nikto? You aren't bothered by the nudity? Sorry. That was just a wardrobe mishap. You don't mind, right? You can touch all you like, because I don't mind.

But he doesn't respond. Doesn't fucking do anything. Just has his shoulders tense and arms loose by his sides, not reciprocating any touch, not touching you unless you give him permission, as if he's been lobotomised and can only take explicit orders.

You're exasperated. It's exhausting.

But how much more goddamn obvious can you be? What will it take for him to open his eyes and see that this isn't a game to you? That you're willingly giving yourself to him, because you want to? Because you want him?

And, yes, his hands twitch with the gnawing itch to touch you; his body shakes with anticipation, antsy; his shoulders are tense, back straight as a plank, muscles flexing with restraint; and, of course, he's so fucking hard that he's almost nauseous.

But will he dare misinterpret your suggestive behaviour as anything more than flirtation, teasing, and risk jeopardising his whole friendship with his one and only friend? No. Not a fucking chance.

One of these days, you swore, you were going to tear off his mask clean off his face and grab his jaw to roughly kiss him on his scarred, mishapen, and malnourished lips, only pulling away when neither of you can breathe, then look him dead in those steel blue eyes and confess that you don't give a shit what, who, or why he is, only that you want him, uncaring of the whats, the whos, and the whys — especially the "whos".

No amount of initiating physical contact could entice him to touch you. You were at wits' end.

One of those days came; and that day was today, as you two were lounging on the bed, with your arms wrapped around his neck and legs straddling his lap.

Sheepishly, you untangle your limbs from around his, and crawl to sit beside him, legs tucked up to your chest and arms wrapping themselves around your knees pitifully if it wasn't for the fire in your eyes.

"...Nikto."

Nikto's back straightens at the speed of light at your tone of voice.

...Oh. Oh God.

This is it, he thinks. This is the day where everything ends. Eventhough you're his everything and that without you he'll be nothing, you're going to tell him to go, to get off you, because you've realised that he isn't worthy of your time or your company. Or maybe you've discovered his obsession — you — and the shrine he keeps of your stolen "lost" possessions and prays to it as if by an altar, how he would worship the ground you work on if it wasn't so conspicuous, how you're the only reason he hasn't given up and put a bullet straight through his own skull so the voices shut up once and for all and—

"Do... you even like me?"

...What.

What.

What?!

Like you? Are you serious?!

He doesn't like you! He couldn't ever like you!

He adores you! Loves you! Worships you! But even then, no synonyms of these words would sufficiently convey his adoration, his unconditional love, his devotion. Would kneeling by your knees and ripping his beating heart out be enough? It still wouldn't. So he won't... mostly for your sake.

Struck dumb, dumbfounded, and utterly confused, he stares at you, his bloodshot steel blue eyes unblinking. Since he can see how your eyes are glistening, he's willing tears on your behalf, just so tears don't stain that pretty face.

Eventually, he says with complete certainty: "...Like would be putting it lightly."

"Then..."

You sniff, and Nikto flinches, but he otherwise remains stiff, not wanting to touch you and make your state worse.

"...then why won't you touch me? Don't you... find me attractive?"

Instantly, he states: "Because the touch of our hands would insult your body."

"You've... you've got to be fucking joking."

"No."

"Is... i-is this some— some kind of fucking joke?"

"...No."

Sadness dissipating, it transforms into incredulity, until you almost laugh. This is unbelievable. It would be endearing if it wasn't so fucking frustrating. You don't know if you want to punch him or kiss him.

"Nikto. Nikto Nikto Nikto. For crying out loud — I WANT you to touch me."

"We're… I'm fucked up. You should have... better."

"Haven't you ever considered that I like my man fucked up?"

Oh God.

Man. Not men. Man.

“You... still should have better.”

You snort in amusement. "What, someone more fucked up than you?"

You roll your eyes, almost out of boredom, but you don't miss how his fists clench, blood boiling as he's silently seething at the mere idea of someone else stealing you. Having you.

“Better is not an option. From my eyes, you're the best man for me out there.”

A wheeze leaves his broken vocal cords — a poor imitation of a human laugh.

But it wasn't a laugh. He isn't laughing. Miraculously, tears collect at the corners of his dehydrated eyes, and he thinks that he might cry.

His voice cracks as he asks uncertainly: “...Best?”

“The very best," you affirm with a smile.

He must be dreaming. This is all a dream. It's everything that he's been dreaming about. Maybe he's dreaming right now, and he'll wake up in a cold bed. Alone.

“Well… maybe I am obsessed with you."

"Maybe?"

"...I am obsessed with you."

"Okay."

"Maybe... we're so possessive that we'll never let you go. Never."

"Never?"

"Never."

“Well,” you begin, clucking your tongue, as if chastising him with the "tsk". “Maybe I like that. Maybe I like being wanted like that.”

"...You won't."

"I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't have even entertained the idea of being around you. If I was a rational person, I'd have ran for the hills. But? I'm not."

"..."

"Now touch me already," you say, unceremoniously snatching his idle hands and guiding them onto your body. "I'm yours. Don't wait for permission like some fucking dog."

You don't have to tell him twice.

"Yes."

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*imma b real w u guys, i had no fucking idea what to name this: ...Oblivious Nikto? ...Ignorant Nikto? ...Delusional Nikto? ...Unaware Nikto?... eventually I settled with "dense", tho i STILL don't know if that's suitable?????

Anyways... sorry for the sort of misleading title??? It was not intentional 🥲. The only reason that it's addressed at the beginning is because I didn't want any misconceptions about what I think of Nikto. No, he is not oblivious, as I gone above and beyond to clarify at the start. 😭

A/N:

To 🪼 anon sending me the asks: I love you. And I love you. Did I mention that I love you? Because I love you. 💫💖✨💖✨🧡🧡💫💖✨💖✨🧡🧡🧡💖✨💖✨💖🧡🧡✨✨✨ (im the monster under your bed, but instead of scaring you, i hold your hand at night 😈... I LOVE UUU/!!!!!!!! 🧡🧡🧡💖✨✨✨💫💖🧡🧡💫✨💫 DONT THINK THAT I DONT SEE YOU 👿👿👿!!!! ggRRGRHGKG FROM NOW ON ALL OF MY NIKTO WORKS ARE A PERSONAL TRIBUTE TO U IDONT EVEN CARE ANYMORE)

Random notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NIKTO, THE UGLY UGLY UGLY MOTHERFUCKER!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎊🎉🎊🎊🎊🎊🎁🎁🎁🎂🎁🎁🎉🎊🎊🎉🎊🎊🎊🎊🎉 (yes his bd is tomorrow but i dont CARE!!!!!!)

Nikto and I are both Libras... 😳 OMgogmgomg we are DESTINED to be together!!! 🫣🫣😫💦💦💦💦💧��1!1!1!1!!!!! GUys IT WAS FATE! 1!1!1!!!!1!!!!!!!! /j

Ok but /srs, got the Ghostrunner 2 Endless Moto DLC for my birthday and ive never been happier omg 🥹 (going to replay the whole game all over again lmao 💀)

Lastly? Um. I love you all!!! Thanks for 750+ followers???+@?! When did THAT happen? @?!@??????!?? 😭😭😭💫💫💫💫 THANK YOUUU 🫶🫶🫶🫶💖💖💖💖

[charliemwrites]

Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

Original concept comes from @ceilidho’s military asset Soap. Further inspiration came from @391780’s Nikto version “The Summons”. Both are very good and you should definitely check out!!

Content: Post-trauma coping, Non-Con Touching and Kissing, Violence (mentioned), Unstable Soap

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

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Masterlist

[yandere-kokeshi]

We need headcanon Horangi please! It's hard to find a good author who make Horangi one.

— Yandere Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin headcanons

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about kidnapping, heavy stalking, slight nsfw, and foreshadowing at volience.

A/N: Aw, thank you :)!!! Enjoy!!

Horangi is a heavy stalker, influenced by his massive possessive and obsessive streak. He isn’t so bad at the beginning, but once he realizes he requires you, he begins to be clingy like glue, manipulative, and too lucid into insanity. 

It’s likely you two met during the military, the KorTac team being famously known for its dangerous members, including the many and König, Nikto, and the tiger himself. Maybe you were a new recruit with a code-name being as dangerous as themselves– which intrigued Kim. 

Although, you could’ve met outside his prime area. A kind stranger, showing a simple act of kindness. And could you blame him for falling for you? You’re exactly what he needs. 

He isn’t sure what’s so lovely about you. You’re like a drug, an addiction. Just like his past gambling one. And he knows you’re an addiction. You’ve crawled underneath his skin, and no high on earth can compare. And Horangi has fucking compared them all.

He loves admiring you from afar. Just staring at you, and though he doesn’t mean to make you nervous, he can’t help himself. You’re so pretty. So oblivious to the things he’d love to do, things he’d hate to do, and things he has done for you. 

He leans against the wall, looking at you from a distance with a subtle smirk when you notice his gifts. He leaves them everywhere for you, even inside your house, on your comfy bed. The look on your face each time gives his goosebumps, a reaction so pristine at what he got you. Sure, a bit naughty. But he knows you’ll enjoy it, regardless. 

The tiger and him work together on following you — stalking their prey from a distance. Yet, he feels insane whilst doing so. He bites his cheek so hard that he makes himself bleed, fighting against the natural instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you. Every pair of eyes that’s ever looked into yours. The arms and fingers who have ever touched you. And in a way, Kim selfishly wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They’re all a hindrance. All of them. 

It’s no surprise that the famous tiger is rather blunt about things, it’s who he is in nature. Just how predators are, anyway. His attraction toward you is obvious, bothering not to hide it. Fleeting touches and constant flirting, claiming he’s simply being honest with you. Of course, Horangi isn’t a liar, at least not in his eyes. And truly, before he met you, he wasn’t. And strangely, he still isn’t. He speaks truth, he’s just being overly dramatic with it. 

Your situation might be bad, perhaps there’s certain people you cannot trust. Horangi makes it seem as though you can’t trust anyone, aside from him of course. And, if you already have trust issues, it’s just extra points for him; making his job much easier, the gambling leaderboard kicking in with more coins. He’s aware that he’s tricking you, deceiving you in a roundabout way. But, he, in some way, believes it too. 

It’s primal, the way he wants you. Beyond anything that has words lisped under a single breath. Relishes the day you say the word mine. Wants to carve his name into your lower hip, his initials, last name included, stuck on you forever. Wants to hear you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter K. Hear your heart struck, feel and taste the blood. 

But, of course, he wants you to do the same. Wants to roll on his back on your bed, chest naked and let you sit on his lap, feel your hands on him, craving him just as much. He wants you to bite him. Scratch him. Make him bleed. Lavish him in so much needed love that he ends up losing himself to pleasure. But, those are just mere ideas for him, having him wait for the right time. 

Besides his obvious… sexual desires, Horangi desires for your attention. Constant awareness of him, which makes him approach you, despite his obvious awkwardness of conversation. 

He starts with small talk — watching you closely. Seeing what you like to talk about. What you dislike. What you love expressing with. He watches your body language, knowing you because of the few tricks he learned from his past.

With the amount of stalking he does, he knows your schedules by heart– randomly appearing at your station with a bag full of your favorite food, and some sweets. He even brings a board game for fun, sharing a few rare touches with you when you thank him. 

Horangi smiles at himself under the mask, finally shivering at the sight of you touching him. Which makes him try on making you weak, at least on the knees; finally accepting him as your only boyfriend and soon-to-be husband. 

And when you do accept Kim, he’s immediately placing himself whenever you go. You and him immediately move into a house together, large enough for you two and maybe a furry animal. But that doesn’t mean he leaves you alone, quite the opposite. 

Heading off to see a friend? He’s coming! Need to head to the store for more body wash, why not let him go instead? He’s fast, and willing to pick up dinner for the two of you. Or, he’s more than happy to come with you! 

You wouldn’t want to be alone… right? If you do, his touch becomes more dominant. His nails scratch and bruise. But he only shushes you, cooing at the marks he leaves on your skin, looking at you with iridescent eyes, “M’ sorry, you know I hate letting you go.”

With affection he shows it clear like glass through cooking, touches, and acts of service. He does everything you want him to do, and ironically, he’s a house-husband when he’s at home; doing most house-chores and cooking. 

He shares the same dishes his eomma used to make for him as a kid. He’s excellent at diving vegetables, and loves cutlery platters. Although, Kim has a fear of you burning yourself, so when he’s not cooking, he helps by watching. He usually adds suggestions, or stirs the pot when asked.

His touches are overwhelming. He’s constantly touching you in some way, nudging your hand and legs, grunting for a kiss or your hand within his. A hand on your waist. His lips chasing yours, growling when you don’t give in fast enough, when you don’t melt like he does. His grip iron clad when you hold hands.

If you haven’t noticed, it’s obvious Kim can’t function properly when he’s gone too long without you. He swings too hard during training. Looks into people’s eyes with nothing but annoyance; his brown eyes tearing into their souls. He rips his bandages, snaps his red and blue pens by holding them too tight.

As long as you promise to be his, Kim will provide you with whatever you want. Your hands are to open at whatever you see; the price being negotiable up to a grand or two. But of course, he comes with his own things– surprising you by random gifts that he thought of you at the moment, a gentle smile plastered on his face when he sees you light up at it. 

Possessive and lightly jealous like no other. He lets others know you belong to him with much PDA. He sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else can see. Bites that are deep into your neck and any part of your body. Having you sit in his lap whenever you’re in public, snuggling his face into your neck as you two talk. 

Despite his unhealthy need for control, following and touching you everywhere, you’re still allowed to have friends. He doesn’t isolate you, completely. However, if he needs to, he will. Kidnapping isn’t on his radar, at first. If you ever try to leave him, in either way, he has you branded in ropes within the next few hours. It was rather an impulsive act, but Horangi needs to have you by himself, no?

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[thedovesaredying]

Sputnik? Sputnik.

So, I know I've already established in my own headcanon that Nikto likely finds Sputnik as a young cub either somewhere in the wild during an OP, or in an enemy base somewhere. However! I just saw that funny TikTok where it's like "when you buy a puppy off of Craigslist and it turns out to be a hyena" and that feels 100% Nikto coded.

Like, I can totally see him getting told he should get some kind of Emotional Support Animal, probably a dog or something to help with his mental issues. So what does he do? Goes onto the shadiest online buying and selling website and just picks out a random puppy he sees advertised.

He comes back to base with Sputnik in his arms and the other operators just kinda go "uuuh, whatcha got there, Nikto?" And he, confused, just says "a dog?" Everyone can see that it's very much not a dog he's currently holding.

"What breed is your, uh, dog?" The pup starts making a very un-dog-like yowling sound. Nikto just shrugs. A dog is a dog, right? He could honestly care less about what breed she is, it probably won't matter anyway.

You can try to tell him that his new puppy isn't actually a puppy as much as you'd like, he's completely deaf to anyone who says otherwise.

[gottalovetumbler]

Psych Ward

Nikto/Konig x reader

🎺Drabble/idea time baby!!🎺

Info: Fem!Reader, not much to say about this part, maybe some cussing and creepiness toward the ends but that about it

——— 🥼💊 ———

-What if it’s your first time ever stepping into a psych ward and you’re there for an interview

-You have absolutely no reason to be working at a place like this. Military funded and in the middle of the woods but it has good benefits and nice hours

-Your all dolled up in some nice slacks, blouse and even some mascara (even though you don’t wear makeup, it makes you feel more professional)

-Your a bit nervous, only having worked at simple part time jobs before. Though this is technically a part time job, if you get it, you’ll be here 4 nights a week cleaning the halls and public access areas.

-Your boot thud as you walk down the hall making you slightly self conscious. What if you don’t get the job because you couldn’t wear heals for a short interview, does that make you unprofessional?

-The interview goes well, you think, you hope.

-The interviewer only got 2 questions in before another staff member rushed in and said something about a code 68 which cut the interview short

-You were quickly ushered out and told you didn’t need to check out, just walk back the way you came and we’ll be in contact! The man had said before scurrying off

-The building was that kind of eerie silence, the one you don’t want to hear in the woods. Where at first it’s a calming silence but then you realize the birds aren’t chirping and the crickets aren’t singing. The one where all other animals of prey know something you don’t.

-Everyone must be busy with whatever happened. Hopefully everyone’s ok.

-You don’t give it much more though as you climb into your car and take off down the gravel road.

———

-You get the call within 24hrs that you got the job and they ask if you can start now. Something about the position needing to be filled sooner than anticipated

-It’s nearing 8pm as you pull up wearing sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt. They told you there’s no dress code so why would you dress up, not like you’re going to see anyone.

-The girl who was in the position before you was supposed to be your trainer. As you walk in though your met with the man who interviewed you, Something came up and she had to leave quite quickly so I’ll be the one showing you ropes, he said while guiding you to the clock in area

-Majority of the stuff is common cleaning duties. Some nights you might have to organize pill doses for the patients but you can only do that on the locked office under the view of a security camera. He makes that very clear

-He leaves at 9pm after answering your questions and introducing you to the night security guards and nurses. Popping in an earbud, you get to cleaning.

-The lobby’s, bathrooms and main hallways are cleaned within 3 hours and you take a 15 minute break. Taking your time as you put away all the unneeded supplies and just wondering a bit.

-You pass the patient area door and stop to stare. The main area of the facility is like a hospital, bright white and sterile. Patients only come to this side for daily pills and any medical treatments. All other times they are beyond that door.

-‘Is it like a prison back there? Are they kept in cells all day?’ You had asked the interviewer, Mike.

-‘Oh gosh no! They aren’t criminals, just…. misunderstood. It’s like a giant house past that door. Plush carpet and dark walls, imagine an old log house on top of a hill. That’s what it’s like in there. There’s six patients right now and each has his own room and bathroom. They can also leave at any paint as long as they’re cleared by their therapist. They still work ya’know, can’t keep them cooped up 24/7.’

-He had left before you could ask what they do for work. Do they work on the property, maybe as landscapers. Cleaning up the leaves and pulling weeds.

-You zone back in, eyes focusing on the door as the alarm representing the ends of your break sounds. Blinking you send one last glance to the window, trying to see into the “house” but what you do see makes you freeze.

-Eyes stare back at you. You can’t make out any more of the face due to it being covered by something, but those eyes are hard to miss. Like a lighthouse on a stormy shore, breaking through the dark. They are stark white and unmoving as you give a slight nod and speed of down the hallway, Mikes last words to you ringing through your head.

-‘Just don’t go near the door, don’t stop and stare, don’t knock. Quickly walk by if you have to cross in-front of it. Just ignore its existence in all honestly, nothing good will happened if they see you.’

———🥼💊———

[flweurlilac]

[Part One]

Cod characters react to you rejecting their confession </3

Part One ✦ Part Two

Character contains : ghost, konig, price, horangi, gaz & nikto

tw : nothing just fluff & maybe a tiny bity angst ♡ reader is poc but i see her as (black) chubby reader bcs my blogs is for chubby gals but i didnt put any descriptions abt readers body (or skintone) so you could have fun with it :) reader is afab btw ^^

♡ ghost

- big boy is mad

- no seriously he is mad.

- when the time you shook your head his sight whos first is kinda bright is now gloomy than ever.

- he would like give you a code about a question of why would you reject him.

- after he knows the reason, he is just kind of like [ *grunts* ... Fine. ]

- he still have a crush on u though, but he didnt have the courage to ask you again unless u change your mind and willing to confess your feelings for him <3

♡ konig

- blud is sad & angrei 😡

- have this '😡' expression after you reject him. But quickly turned into '😞😔' expression.

- quietly ask you "why.. Why darling?"

- after he knows the reason why he kinda try to make himself move on from you.

- but failed </3

- he still love you but he actually still mad at you for rejecting him.

- but he atleast try an effort to still respect you, but this dude is still over the heels for you <33

♡ price

- this is how his emotions looks like

- ☺->🙂->😐->😕->😞

- would quickly put his ciggarates once he saw you shook your head.

- ask you a question "am i not enough love?"

- he saw you shook your head again and heared you give yourself a reason of why would you reject him.

- after that he just went to like "oh.. Oh well fine then." But... He is still not over from you.

- i mean.. He sometimes try to take a glance at you when you were not looking.

- and trust me — this papa try reaaaally hard to not gawk over you cus umm.. He doesnt want to be embarassed.

- i mean.. This man has a lot of reputation in the military and the 141 group so.. better be patient.

- unless you're willing to change your mind and accept him, he would be over the moon :)

♡ horangi

- literally gave you a '😐' to '😒' stare right after u shook ur head and said the word "no"

- try not to look to angry at you bcs you just break his little tiger heart 💔

- he also try not to BARK when he sees you talking to his other comrades (including konig, bcs he is a jealous tiger)

- he would demand ask his comrades to ask you about why would you reject such a value man like him.

- would give you a side eye 24/7 after he knows the reason.

- but pls dont be mad at him for that, he still have a crush on you he just dont want to be seem as desperate.

- infact, giving u a side eye 24/7 is to get your attention back to him ... 😏

♡ gaz

- oh my god.. His heart is just like a snow that is being crushed by someones hands.

- would looked like a kicked puppy after you said "no" To him.

- would ask you quietly "why....?"

- after he knows the reason his whole mood is just become gloomy no matter how reasonable the reason is.

- bcs he is a shy bean so having him confessing his feelings for someone that he loves/likes require a lot of confidence for him to do it so he is really feeling that butt-hurt feelings.

- he actually still love you but he would never ever admit this again. He is too too shy beanie to do it. (Pls do it for him<3)

♡ nikto

- literally angy and sad

- he is infact big (almost like konig) but once he heard the word "no" From you he almost felt his strong and muscly heart being melted.

- he look at you with shocked expression and ask "why.. was i not enough?"

- after he know the reason he is still gloomy and sad of course. But he is not going to give up bcs he is a really determined man so he is really willing to say it back to you.

- unless this time.. He has more bigger & well prepare.

♡❀♡ Note : Guyssss this is my first time writing for nikto hcs/imagines, he is another of the masked men in cod and he was really really underrated, many ppl still didnt recognize his appereance (maybe some are but just dont really that care about him.) so i had to add him on this list. I'll make a part two maybe later with alejandro, rudy, valeria, alex, makarov and keegan :) tell me wht characters should i add in the next part! Enjoy!

[kyumisyumi]

Garden for two

Step 1: Make granny coded OC Step 2: Nickname her little Babushka Step 3: Ship her with the Russian

Ship: Nikto x F!OC (Adlean)

Word count: 4k

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

It was only an inch, just the smallest little bit over the border; that's what Adlean told herself in the beginning. Then came any other weak excuse she could muster to turn that inch into a meter and that meter into the whole yard. That little devil on her shoulder gave any and all excuses it could for her to keep expanding on this little project. 'The neighbor hasn't appeared for months...', 'he probably wouldn't even mind a little bit of maintenance on his lawn...', 'if he cared he would've petitioned for a fence...' and so on and so on. Until her voice and that devil's were indiscernible. Until it was only hers.

Adlean hadn't thought it would've gone this far. She'd raised a few houseplants, yeah, but had no real gardening nor landscaping skills to rely on. Just some YouTube tutorials and a dream. Yet, as she got one section done and then another and another, it became harder to stop. So enamored by an idea coming together and it being by her own unskilled hands. One of those rare times she'd set out to do something and it was actually done right. She'd chosen clover to replace the generic grass turf. A young cherry blossom here, a stone pathway there; sheet mulch and cover crops. Aside from native wildflowers there were handful of foreign flora that looked too good to resist in her eyes. Plus a few easy to grow crops the store recommended. Some ceramic decor, garden trellis, fairy lights. She went far over her budget turning this place into a scene from a fantasy novel, evidenced by the weeks worth of cheap ramen filling her kitchen; all she'd be able to afford for a while. But in the end, it genuinely looked wonderful, like one of those images you come across on pinterest.

However.

As large as her yard was, the need to keep going flowed strong in her veins even after every inch was fully decorated. Pulsing from her head to her heart to her hands as though Mother Nature herself was guiding her trowel. She hadn't gone as overboard on her neighbor's lawn; no trees, no ponds, just some wildflowers and better turf and a few mini garden figures hidden along the edges. Adlean figured if her mythical neighbor ever did show up and express distaste, she'd simply apologize profusely and undo her handywork. Alternatively, she'd hoped they might completely fall in love with the lawn and thank her for being so wonderful. They'd bake her a cake she'd weakly refuse and she'd make them cookies, cementing the perfect neighborly relationship she so greatly yearned for.

What she hadn't planned for were the angry yells and curses coming from a brick wall of a silhouette who was rapidly banging on her door.

"Roderick! Cволочь![bastard!] Get your fucking ass out here and explain this rubbish."

God, he was so loud. She could only imagine what the neighbors were thinking. Hopefully they'd at least poke their heads out to act as witnesses if things went bad. She was shaking in the little hallway that lead to her front door, rethinking her life choices and wishing she could undo the past- actually fighting the devil on her shoulder rather than giving in to it's mischievous whispers. Adlean momentarily considered calling the police to mediate but that would just unsettle the whole block of nosey elderly people that populated the cul-de-sac. Not to mention it might effectively deteriorate any chance of her being on decent terms with the person she would have to share a house with. That was something she didn't want to experience again; making enemies among neighbors was the reason she'd moved here to begin with. So, despite how much she didn't want to, despite how much her muscles tensed while her fingers shook, she approached the front door and opened it.

'I'M SO SORRY!' She thought the words but couldn't bring herself to say it, lips pursed in fear and anxiety the moment she got a proper view of the absolute unit in front of her. Compared to her, he was a giant, blocking any light from penetrating beyond her doorway and casting her in his shade. The man was wearing full black, with only a tacky gold chain dangling from his neck to stop him from looking like a humanoid shadow that had manifesting on her front steps. Terrifying. The balaclava concealing everything but the anger in his eyes didn't help either.

"What is this? Where is the bastard? He sends woman to face his problems." The man shifted forward as if he was going to try to push past her into her own home but thought better of it.

Nikto's momentary confusion at seeing the small black girl instead of the lanky white man he knew to live next to him had caused enough bewilderment to dampen his anger... for now. He studied her for a moment; she was short, barely tall enough to reach his chest and the many layers of oversized clothing didn't help. She wore light colors; baby blues, greens and whites, a large woolen coat over a sweater and skirt that reached her ankles. Her face was round and held brown almond eyes, a pointed nose and thick lips. Large framed glasses were perched on the tip of her nose, the plastic a matching shade of blue. Atop her head was a hefty mass of dreadlocks wrapped into a bun that was almost as large as her head. Looked heavy too. He brought his gaze back to her face, she was doing well to hide the distress in her features but Nikto could see the way her fingers gripped the ends of her sleeves for dear life. At first he thought her lips were pursed in annoyance but Nikto soon realised they were locked in fear, quivering slightly at the edges. He'd scared the poor thing. 'Fucking hell' He cursed to himself, the smallest drop of guilt creeping in for terrifying some random woman.

"Listen, didn't mean for- nevermind, who are you?" He asked, voice sounding like it grated against every surface of his throat before exiting his lips.

She took a moment, looking behind him to check for an audience. "I'm Adlean, I rent this side of the house. I assume you're my neighbor." Common courtesy had her wanting to say 'nice to meet you' but...

"Ahh, so not Roderick anymore." He tsked.

Adlean couldn't tell if he was happy or upset to hear the news. "No, I've been here for about 4 months now." She shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I'm sorry for messing around in your backyard. I got a little carried away and the home has been empty for so long I wasn't even sure if you existed. I'll remove it all, starting tomorrow... or pay to have someone deconstruct your lawn if you prefer." She spoke quickly, he could almost hear the regret in her tone.

Nikto contemplated for a while, or at least he pretended to. It gave him more time to watch the woman squirm in front of him- a bully, even in guilt. "We will give this some thought." He sighed, his body sagging slightly as his anger simmered.

"Alright." Adlean said quietly. "You can leave a note in my mailbox when you decide." She slanted the door, giving him time to spill any more grievances before closing it.

Nikto stared at the closed door for a while before retreating to his side of the home. He was no longer angry but his body had built up so much of it that it now bounced around his skull, waiting to be converted into some other emotion.

So he had a new neighbor now. Good. He hated the slimy bastard who would leave dog shit in his yard and fill his trashcans while he was gone. Instead he now had a neighbor who seemed to like messing around on other people's property. He strolled to the window and pulled back the curtains, looking out at the wilderness she'd turn his yard into. It wasn't bad, the plant-life seemed haphazard at first but now that he'd taken a second look he could see they were laid out with purpose. He wasn't sure what he thought at first; that Roderick had thrown random turf and weed into his yard out of spite or to monopolize the space somehow. A small part of him almost welcomed the conflict, a nice little spat before he would settle into the mundane.

He looked over on her side where her skills really shone through, it was pretty but he was sure as hell glad she kept it to her side. Nikto's eyes shifted to the movement along the side of the house, watching as his neighbor 'Adlean' left her home. Distress remained in her features as she looked around briefly before making her way to a spot beneath a small canopy, a book in one hand and a tumbler in the other. He watched her settle onto the grass, leaning slightly against the young pink tree. Nikto told himself that he was only watching to learn about the stranger he would have to partially share a space with. It was only natural he'd want details on someone within proximity... He watched her toy with the cover of the book, lifting it as if to open it but letting it shut close again and again. Her chest rose and fell into a sigh, too distracted maybe, before looking over at the likely source of her ire; his side of the property. Her gaze ran over the fence and flowers and pathway of mulch before eventually landing on the house, the window and him. She visibly stiffened before hurriedly averting her eyes.

Nikto stayed for a moment longer before leaving the window.

Nikto wouldn't hesitate to admit himself a pervert at times. He could appreciate a woman's body, the things they can do and how they make him feel. However, he never fancied himself a creep, not until now at least. Only a handful of days had passed since he'd returned home from deployment and what should've been a time of -fitful and fleeting- relaxation was instead a slow decent into madness. His body moved as it should; it woke, it cooked, it sat in front of the tv for hours before resting again. However, within his mangled head was a spider weaving silk. Its hairline triggers spreading through his ears and along every surface connecting his home to hers. Waiting for the telltale vibration of nearby movement; prey. He would know the moment she'd step outside into her yard to read or maintain her garden. Her door neither slammed nor creaked but he would hear it, would feel it, would sense it with an acuteness that was usually reserved for the battlefield. And as though it were protocol, he would be by a window, hidden from her curious glances at his home.

'Adlean' was nothing compared to the Slavic goddesses his homeland produced. Their beauty was bold, sharp, stunning in a way that both defined and challenged the concept of beauty itself. Hers was... mild, delicate, a type you'd miss if you looked away too fast. Where his type of women would strut as though the ground would rise to meet their feet, she glided unhindered and unbothered. He had his preference and it wasn't her, yet, here he was glued to a window like a mut watching their owner pull into the driveway after a long days work. His eyes drinking her in as though she was the only source of clean water for miles and he was cursed with perpetual thirst. He would drink and drink and drink and never have his fill. Maybe if he got to look closer; shoved his head into the oasis rather than graze his hand along the surface to sip from his palms. Maybe then his lips would no longer be dry and his stomach no longer crumbling inward in it's pursuit of sustenance.

But therein lied a problem; the duality of a man like him who liked pretty things but could only mar them. If she was an untouched fragment of nature then he was mankind; giving it an appreciative glance before bulldozing it to build a highway. Nikto looked down at his hands, his fingers secreting ichor that only his eyes could perceive. Their putrid reddish-black gliding along his knuckles only to fall where they'd be reabsorbed back into him. Just like watching from afar wasn't enough, watching up close would soon fail to placate him. He'd want to touch, to grab, to squeeze, to crawl into her skin. He paused his thoughts to watch her prune one of the vining plants, his eyes stuck on the Alabaster white that bled from her gentle digits. He wanted to know what would happen if their hands touched. Would his muck dissolve her colors, crawling along her hands to forever taint her with his sins. Or was her hue potent enough to wash away his own, or at least, force it to retreat somewhere deep inside where he would no longer have to see it. Would they mix to create something new or would they slide right off each other like oil and water- incompatible. Nikto knew the answer, he was a broken man who broke his surroundings to reflect himself. A piece of him here, a piece of him there. A piece of him in the knife he stuck in the enemy's neck, a piece of him in the bullet wounds riddled in his targets. A piece of him in every whore he'd ever paid for and a piece of him in every comrade he'd sever once they got too close. A piece of him in every therapist they'd forced him to see, who would mark him good just to make sure he'd never step foot in their office again. Thankfully, he'd managed to keep his home untouched, no shard of him to be found in it's modest decor.

He watched his neighbor retreat into her home, satisfied with the maintenance she'd done. A contemplative glance over to his side before closing her door. He hardly knows his neighbor, but he knew she did not deserve to have a man like him in her life. She was made for a normal man who would give her a ring and children. Not for a broken soldier clinging to the pieces of his mind, scrambling for the shards that he himself discards. He was subject to his emotions but his actions, his actions would always reflect the meticulous decisions of a well trained soldier...a practiced killer. His brain and it's inhabitants could be as much of a mess as it wanted but he was in control. This was noise, nothing but his mind trying to create chaos and latching onto the first thing it could find. He knew there was nothing to be gained by entertaining this little 'fixation' of his.  He knew. He knew. He knows.

Nikto knows to leave pretty things alone.

"Neighbor, we bring gift." Nikto spoke once she'd opened her door for him, the small bag in his hand containing a Russian tea mix. A gift; a peace offering. "Make up for... Earlier incident."

Adlean stared at him for a moment, her gaze flicking from his eerie blue eyes to the brown paper bag crushed between his scar ridden fingers and back to him. When she saw his familiar silhouette at her screen door, she'd prepared herself for some kind of verbal altercation, despite the fact that he hadn't technically yelled at her the first time. She'd been kicking herself repeatedly these past few days. Annoyed that she'd caused her neighbor trouble due to being impulsive and annoyed at how much anxiety she'd allowed to build in her body because of it. Adlean had spent so many years working to overcome that part of herself that inflated every little issue in her life, but that training went straight into the garbage that lovely Sunday morning he came knocking at her door. It was forgivable, she told herself, he was a big man and with only one barely barricaded door to separate them she was right to worry. Yet she was pissed at herself all the same. That constant irritation had her brows involuntarily knitted together and her eyes narrowed into a look her friend often teased her about, likening her to an angry librarian or a ticked off school teacher. That sour look had permanently plastered itself on her face since and it was what greeted her well meaning, neighbor.

"Maybe not then... " His trailed off, voice somehow sounding more ashen.

It was near impossible to read his face behind a mask but she felt a hint of disappointment. It snapped her out of her foul mood and she quickly fixed her face. "Oh! No, no, I appreciate the gift." She held her hands out for the item. "Thank you."

Adlean forced a smile onto a face that still wanted to scowl. This was great, a sign she hadn't completely messed up her chances. Maybe she could take it a step further. "Would you like to enjoy this tea together? On the veranda out back?" She quickly added the last part, not ready to invite him directly into her home. Generally nerves weren't something she had to battle but the circumstances had her words coming out a little more shaky, her hands a little more fidgety. "In about half an hour, if you're not busy."

The Russian's eyes creased ever so slightly for a brief moment. "Да[yes], yes, that would be... Good."

With another awkward moment of swaying and silent nods the door was eventually closed. Adlean took a moment to inspect the tea with a little smile on her face. Teas have always been the go to gift of people in her life, despite the fact that she actually doesn't like them that much. "I guess I must look the type." she muttered to herself, grateful all the same. She compared the tea he got her to the one she bought to gift to him but couldn't bring herself to knock on his door. Maybe she'd give it to him later, or save it for the next time she overstepped.

A deep sigh made it's way out of her lips. This was good. This was her chance. They didn't need to be best friends, just cordial at the very least. She would accept that much. Anything but enemies, she wouldn't go through that again, never again. With that sentiment echoing through her mind, she went out to sweep the veranda and put the chairs together. 

Nikto had put those thirty minutes to good use, taming his mind and avoiding the questions he asked himself. He would move on impulse. Those impulses had granted him an invitation to her company after all. If she hadn't he might've found some reason or excuse to make his way into her home, testing her boundaries to sate his curiosity. It didn't sit well with him to be so distracted but in the comfort of his own home, he'd allow it for now.

Nikto stepped out into the back yard. Their home had a veranda that span the entirety of the structure's length. There use to be a small fence to separate the sides but Roderick had toppled it over some years ago. Said he'd gotten into a fight at a party he threw and pushed a guy into it. A check of the security cameras confirmed there was a fight but it was his bony ass that got knocked to the ground. Bastard never bothered to replace it. The memory only made Nikto that much more grateful his neighbor was gone. This area wasn't spared from Adlean's questionable decorating choices, though it seemed all the plants here were fake, she'd added many along the railing and wall. Two lanterns above her door hung from fake branches. It wasn't Nikto's style, far too cluttered bordering messy, but it did suit her.

Adlean was already out, smiling with her eyes as he approached. She really did look like an old lady at times; legs crossed and tucked beneath her chair, her large glasses dangling precariously on the tip of her nose, hair up in a neat bun, draped in layers upon layers of knitted fabrics. The outdoor table-chair set was also within the aesthetic of her back yard, possibly custom made, designed to look like branches in the shape of furniture. Nikto was hesitant to sit, while the chair looked large enough for him they still seemed delicate, like they'd snap under the weight of his gaze alone. Adlean assured him it was fine, but it took a while before he could let his guard down and put his full weight on it. On the table, sitting above the green cloth covering it's surface, was the familiar orange color of his tea in a glass pot, two matching cups on either side and sugar packs placed in the middle. Adlean poured his glass before hers and Nikto didn't miss that she waited for him to drink first before taking a sip of her own.

"Thanks for agreeing to this, I really should apologize again for essentially trespassing." She began. There was genuine remorse in her words but despite this she seemed far more content, especially compared to earlier.

"No need, we're not upset. In truth, we just wanted reason to pick fight with neighbor." He paused. "Past neighbor."

"Was he... Problematic?" She asked.

"A problem; he very much was." He made a sound like in the back of his throat, like slate against metal.  "Thorn. Worm. Would come into our yard, just like you, but always with mess. Had annoying dog too. He was always loud, shit music playing at all hours of the night. Made us hate having a neighbor, would've moved if not for fact that we're barely here."

Adlean grimaced. "I know what that's like." She elaborated after Nikto gave her an inquisitive glance. "My last neighbor was great until rumors got out that her husband was having an affair and for some reason she believed it was with me. She started messing with my packages, tampering with food I had delivered and even my mail. Throwing things through my window and I'm pretty sure she released a possum in my home on four different occasions."

"Hm, what did you do in return?"

"Nothing... I just kept trying to talk to her but she wouldn't listen."

"Weak. If Roger ever did such things; I would have his tongue."

She chuckled, enjoying the blunt response. "Yea, well I was pretty weak back then."

"And now?"

"Now, I try not to be." She answered, a smile on her lips anyone could tell was fake.

The conversation drifted away and they spoke as two people new to each other would. Nikto wouldn't say much about himself but she compensated by being open about her life. She went into further detail about the things her old neighbor had done, some of it so bad he developed a slight appreciation for Roderick. She updated him on the surrounding neighbors, not that there was much given the area was just one big retirement home. She also let him know the shyly old woman that owns the house might pass it to her niece.

Nikto watched as she blew on her drink before taking small sips; her eyes lidded as the liquid rippled against her lips. It had to be on purpose, yeah? The way she moved was so slow, so calm. Nikto could damn near count the frames, yet the motions were fluid. Unbothered. She moved like someone with little care for time and how finite it was for us humans.  He envied it. He wanted that calmness, wanted to crawl into the chasm of her mind and set up residence. He made the correct decision getting closer. This must be why he enjoyed watching her so much; she looked like someone who knew peace. Exuded it. Combined with her voice, Nikto barely wanted to talk back, just listen. Just exist. He would never have true peace but when he watches her, his mind slows down just a bit and for a moment he can pretend. That's all it was, yes. She was a sustenance and he was starving.

She opened her eyes fully, lips still resting against the cup, then she turned them to him. Looking away would've been a good choice, to avoid appearing any more creepy than he already feels but he couldn't. He couldn't help but wonder how he looked to her. The Russian had no illusions about his appearance, to be sitting like this having tea in a garden didn't suit a creature like him at all. To any outsider he must look severely out of place; like a dagger among needles or a rock among feathers.

"Let's be good to each other, neighbor." she said in a quiet voice before returning to her tea.

He would. He would be good to her.

[lizzy019]

NIKTO CODED?? Once you tell him to be rough 😏

You may have to copy the link and open it in Google if you don't have Twitter :( P0RN! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

(Totally worth it)

[celestialprincesse]

(I know how you want it, baby, just like this

Know you're thinking' 'bout it, baby, just one kiss

While you're lookin' at 'em, baby, read my lips

I know what you want, but you can't have this)

ANGE! THAT LAST LINE?? Ohhhh your wrinkly mind! I hope you were talking about the Ariana grande song! Truly Nikto x hyperfem coded. Pls!!

*lil side note I’ve been meaning to ask you about, the king!simon x fae!reader. Would love ur thoughts because it’s all I’ve been thinking about since you posted it a few days ago but haven’t been so busy with classes

I was I was! Been listening to Ariana whilst I've been studying lately n soo much of her stuff makes me think of Nik & my sweet girly💕 They're j soooo forbidden love pining for something you want but can't have coded and it makes me SICK🥴

Also, King!Simon n Faerie!reader is something I've been stewing on in the back of my silly little brain for a bit now. I've got literally nothing in terms of plot, but I do have vibes!! Lots of Simon being very grumpy and mean and closed off, maybe faerie reader is arranged to marry him as some kind of peace offering or bargain. Sort of a long standing sacrifice thing? Like every generation the Faeries send one of their own to be wed to the king, the deal being that the royal line remains strong with half fae sons and daughters and in exchange they leave the faeries alone?? I'm not really too sure on where I want to take it yet, but it's definitely something I'd like to write at some point??

[yawnderu]

I entered cod for könig, stayed for Simon, discovered nikto and then got bored till I came back for price, gaz and soap (and again for könig first love never ends💀)... Plus discovered nikolai

Kinda similar here! I was obsessed with 09 Ghost years before the remakes were made, but König awoke the whore in me so I created this account. :P

Who would guess I've written probably over 100 Simon fics n drabbles. HBEFBJHKEFKBHJEF

König coded btw

[gonnamurdersomeone]

CoD people as cats? I think so here we go!

Someone better appreciate this I literally took 3 pages from my fucking notebook to write all this shit down

Captain John “Bravo-6” Price

I think John would definitely be an Oriental cat if not that then probably a Burmese. Smart, quick on his feet and pretty loyal seems about right.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley

I think Simon would be a Norwegian forest cat or a British Short hair.. for obvious reasons dude is a fuckin Brit through and through. I chose NFC becuase they are bigger types of cats and used to harsh climates

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

For Gaz I chose an Abyssinian cat, they are pretty, usually have pretty eyes (like him) and are pretty smart and playful. Very Gaz coded

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny boy would be a Scottish Fold or a Siamese cat. They are very vocal, love people and are just a joy to be around honestly. Plus they suffer from pretty boy syndrome so… yeah

Sergeant Gary “Roach” Sanderson

Gary my baby boy, I chose an OciCat cause of his name it’s so random? I thought him being a more exotic and weird cat would fit his aesthetic. Very pretty cats too!

General Hershel Shepherd

Fucking hell I hate this dude and for that I gave him a Sphynx cat, they are mean, bald and bossy as fuck. Sound about right for mister Shepherd no?

I want to kill him

Kate “Watcher-1” Laswell

Kate one of my favorites! She would definitely be an American Curl. Very pretty cats with a unique personality and it just fits her. That or a Bombay cat I couldn’t choose

Nikolai “Gaz fell out of the helicopter again”

Nik our lovable transportation buddy, of course he would get a Russian blue there is no need to elaborate here he would be a Russian blue. Very cool cats ngl

Farah “Kilo Actual” Karim

She is so pretty and such a girl boss istg. But I’m giving the Bengal cat or an Ural Rex very curly hair and just very funny kitties, I think it fits her

Alex “Echo 3-1” Keller (Jr Price fr)

Pretty boy gets a pretty cat!!! He gets to be a Manx cat cause of the no tail (and his one leg) nahh jokes aside very pretty kitties for a very pretty boy

Phillip “Shadow-1” Graves

I hate this dude with all my atoms but he’s tolerable compared to Shepherd.. But I gave Graved an American shorthair. One becuase he’s American and two his hairline makes me wanna cry

Vladimir Makarov

I hate you so so much for what you did in MW3… but you are a character so I’m still giving you a cat. If you were a cat my guy I think you’d be an Peterbald or a Karelian cat

Andre “Alpha 2-1” Nolan

Surprisingly not a bad character imo but he could use some more character development! I’m giving him a Korat cat or a Singapura. I wish he got more development in MW3 honestly :/

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro! Our favorite Mexican man gotta love him and the cowboys. He’s a petty boy as well so I’m giving him a pretty chill and cool cat as well. A color point shorthair, not necessarily a *breed* per day but still he deserves a petty kitty

Rodolfo Parra

Rudy! Another cowboy we love what a gentleman <3 I’m giving him an Egyptian Mau kitty, it has spots and I think Rudy would be a spotted kitty. Very good boy

Valeria “El-Sin-Nombre” Garza

Mommy issues fr love this women. I support women rights AND wrongs 💪 she gets a Donskoy or a Savannah cat. Both wild kitties to match her wild and unpredictable personality I think it fits very well

König

Anxious King gotta love them! For obvious reasons he’s a Maine Coon cat, the biggest house cat there is. For being an absolute UNIT of a man he deserves a very loyal, pretty, and big kitty. God I just wanna smother this man

Kim “Horangi” Hong-jin

Toyger need I say more? It’s a literal house tiger, his name is fucking Tiger he gets to be the tiger damnit! 😤

Darnell “Hutch” Hutcherson

Dunno the rest of these guys very well (besides Nikto) but I’m giving Hutch a Chartreux cat. I wish the more obscure characters got more attention, no they may not be apart of the MW part but still they deserve love

Nikto

I love this man with every fucking atom of my body. My baby boy deserves the best cat in my opinion the Lykoi. Very cool, funny and amazing cats one of the best he’s just a goober I wanna pet him and keep him in my closet away from all the bad things

Mace

Mace heard some things about you here and there and decided I couldn’t leave you behind. You my friend would be an Oriental Longhair dunno why but I think it suits him

Velikan

Idk if this man is even part of the fandom? Either way I’m giving you a cat deal with it. You would be an Highlander cat if not then an Tonkinese kitty.

Keegan P Russ

Oh Keegan my dear boy, you would be a Devon Rex kitty, very smart, mischievous and overall just a joyful cat. You deserve the world my dear

Logan Walker

Ragdoll. You will get a ragdoll take it or leave or my guy. Just know I’m only adding you and everyone else because of Keegan

David “Hesh” walker

Hhhh.. hesh dude idk I’d probably give you a Havanah Brown kitty. Seems like a good fit. Unusual brown kitty for a unusual cool character

Elias T “Scarecrow” Walker

I literally know nothing about you? But I’m still giving you a cat! Uh I think possibly a Javanese cat would fit you my dude.

Alex v “Ajax” Johnson

Same with you like? I have never heard about you either but whatever. I think a Australian Mist or a Khao Manee cat would work

Alright so that’s all the CoD characters I think? I’m not sure if I missed anyone, if I did tell me and I’ll assign them in the comments or whatever.

No I’m not adding the other characters such as Diego or any other unknown Ghost team people or random background people that only have like 2 lines of dialogue or is barely even known within the CoD community.

[charliemwrites]

Uhhh this is sort of to get me back in the swing of writing since some people may have noticed I haven’t done much this week. It’s… it’s been a week, but that’s fine, those happen.

Anyway, concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.

(There will be a part 2 because this got longer than expected.)

Content: Verbal Threats, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Dub-Con, Name-calling. Please stay safe! 💕

You thought you were done with this.

Got out by making the best of a bad situation. Honorable discharge following an injury after your last base was infiltrated. “Data analysts” (hackers) can’t have unpredictable hand spasms in the middle of time-sensitive decryptions. So, you got out.

And now you’re all but being dragged back.

You don’t recognize the two stone-faced men flanking you, but you recognize the woman they sit you in front of.

“Laswell.”

She doesn’t look older, but she looks more tired. Like she hasn’t slept since she informed you of your discharge.

“It’s good to see you again,” she says without smiling. It’s good to see you; it’s not good that you’re seeing her. “I wish it was… I wish this wasn’t the situation.”

You arch your eyebrows. Have never known her to speak without measuring the exact dimensions of her words first. She always slides them into spaces perfectly designed for them, builds towers and forts out of syllables.

There’s a treacherous unintentional volume to the word “this” that prickles across your neurons.

“And what’s ‘this’ exactly?” you ask.

“A recently recovered asset,” she explains. You expect a dossier of some kind to be set in front of you. She links her fingers together on top of her desk and looks you in the eye. “He’s asking for you.”

You blink. Never was any good at staring contests with anything but a screen.

“And who,” you speak slowly, poking at the edges of whatever she’s hedging around, “is he?”

A pause, heavy enough to slowly start pressing the air from your lungs.

“Do you remember John MacTavish?” she asks.

You frown, rifling through mental files.

John MacTavish of Task Force 141. Soap. You remember liking him, even though he made a shy, anti-social part of you uneasy. He had a starting problem, and a smiling problem. Or maybe you were the one with the problem - with the way he would often stare and sometimes smile.

You taught him how to find files out in the field. How to take from the enemy and corrupt entire systems. He was good at it. A digital pyromaniac. Used to hand-deliver drives and disks to you, sometimes still bloody and bruised from getting them.

You heard through the gossip vine that he was MIA (or maybe went AWOL?) at some point. Was shipped out to your final assignment soon after.

“Is he the… asset?” you ask.

Her eyes do this funny flicker thing then, and the corner of her mouth tenses. You press your thumb into your palm as your fingers twitch.

“He’s asking for you,” she explains, “and he has information we need.”

Between the lines: we need you to get the information from him. The error code flashing in your mind demands to know why.

“Why?” you wonder.

Maybe you’ve been out too long; forgot that “why” is blasphemy to the government. The answer will always be “because we said so.”

You already miss being out.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” she answers and stands.

—

Laswell takes the lead, the same blank-faced guards bring up the rear. This doesn’t feel like you’ve been volun-told to do them a favor. It feels like you’ve been sentenced without a trial.

You’re led down silent, nondescript halls, through heavy gray doors, and into shiny metal elevators. Everything needs a keycard you’ve not been given. The quiet gets heavier, meaner the deeper you go.

There’s the vague sense that you’re underground when Laswell finally stops at a heavily guarded door. She pauses, steals a glance at you that starts a high-pitched alarm in your head.

“He’s different now,” she says finally, “I’m sorry in advance.”

A guard unlatches the door. She nods you ahead to enter first. You hesitate, don’t like the change in light beyond. Behind you, one of the guards shifts. Don’t like that either.

On tingling legs, you slink through the cracked door. It shuts with a gavel’s finality behind you. Alone.

The room you’ve been tricked into barely deserves the word. It’s more a tiny patch of sequestered floor, little bigger than an office cubicle. Clean linoleum and unmarked walls. In the corner, a camera blinks.

But in front of you are bars; a wall of them. A door interrupting the grid-pattern. Beyond, it’s pitch black. You almost make the mistake of stepping forward.

“Stay there,” Laswell’s voice commands. Staticky. An intercom.

From the shadows, a growl. Low, rough. Just this side of human. You plaster yourself to the door you came through, hair standing on end.

The lights come on. It’s only because you’ve frozen that you don’t scream, all of it trapped up in a constricted throat.

The man in front of you is not Soap. It’s not even John MacTavish. It’s a very convincing beast wearing his face. Sort of.

More scars than you remember. A thicker beard too. His signature Mohawk is just a suggestion in the dark brown mess of his hair - like he’s been running his hands through it and ripping out any tangles along the way.

He’s not moving now though. Not except the deep heave of his broad chest. Could be a statue save for that. He’s staring; his eyes are bluer than you remember. Bluer and blanker. Nothing in them except a flicker of something vicious, something covetous. Something that’s peering out from this man.

“We brought her, just like you asked.” Laswell’s voice again, wary and expectant.

Soap doesn’t respond. He inhales deep, gaze still locked with yours. It’s loud, purposeful. Your stomach twists.

“Just as sweet as I remember.” His voice is gravel on ice, resonates in his barrel chest. Fills up the room like a rockslide. You curl your fingers against the door behind you. “You remember me, bonnie?”

It takes your brain a second to realize he’s talking to you. As if he could be speaking to anyone else. Your shadow maybe; she’s always been braver than you.

His eyes twitch, narrowing ever so slightly. His patience winding down, tick, tick, tick.

You jerk your head in a nod. His eyes burn.

“Good.” He cracks his neck. It feels entirely inorganic that he can move just that part of his body. “Would have to punish you if you didn’t.”

You swallow, dig up your voice from the crevice it slunk into.

“Laswell.” Your voice is too high, too nervous. Soap bares his teeth, slams his fist against the all-too-bendable barrier between you two. It shocks you, frightens you. How he could be so still and then so alive all at once.

“John, we brought her. That was the deal.”

You feel sick with something unspoken as he shakes his head.

“No, the deal was you give her to me. Do you see my fuckin’ hands on ‘er? My teeth?”

“The information first.”

You feel sick with rage. Like you’re going to throw up with the disgust that poisons your blood. Your legs nearly give out as you slide to the ground, pressing a hand over your mouth, filling with saliva. Stomach rolling.

Force yourself to breathe through your nose. Would work better if you could close your eyes but prey instinct won’t let you, survival too strong to dare look away from the predator now pacing at the bars. He’s agitated, devolving quickly into anger. You’d tell Laswell to stop pissing him off if that didn’t mean tossing you to him. More than she has, anyway.

“We will take her back if you don’t deliver your end of the deal.”

Like you’re some reward to be given and taken at someone else’s will. An incentive for good behavior.

The military used to make you feel like a dog - sit, stay, bark on command. But you’d take that over being the training treat any day.

Soap snarls. He sounds feral. Spits out a set of numbers, eyes pinned to you. When he’s done, he crouches down. Knees against the wall of bars.

“S’alright, little bird. C’mere and I’ll make it all better,” he coos, beckoning you with two fingers.

You press your lips together against a whimper. His expression twitches. You suck in a breath—

“We’ll need to verify those coordinates first,” Laswell says.

The noise that rips out of Soap makes you shake. You didn’t know people could make sounds like that; like something with teeth and claws and blood matted in its fur. He stands, huge and terrifying.

He curses and threatens (awful, cruel) but Laswell doesn’t respond again. You doubt she’s even listening. And you just stay still and quiet, hoping to avoid his attention altogether, pancaked to the wall.

As is the pattern today, your reasonable hope is eventually dashed. Can almost feel the exact moment Soap’s attention refocuses on you. Like a the click of switch.

And he’s down again, crooning at you so sweetly. Like you didn’t just watch him come within a breath of destroying his cell.

“You know it’s not fair, don’t you,” he murmurs. “You know that I’m owed you. C’mere.”

“I’m not a thing,” you snip, still too high. Almost petulant if not for the frightened crack in the middle. He flashes teeth.

“‘Course you are, hen,” he says, almost laughing. You realize with a jolt that you’ve amused him. “You’re my sweet, pretty thing with the sweet, pretty cunt that I’m gonna fuck and breed.”

Your voice slithers back into the abyss, snatched away by the smoke and shadow promises in his own.

“And you know that’s what you’re for, don’ you?” he continues, voice dripping lower and lower. “You know that you’re mine.”

You shake your head, want to explain that you didn’t have a choice. Government goons have been shuffling you about from place to place, only the illusion of free will, like horse blinders. Keeping you docile and complacent.

You don’t think Soap cares about things like logic or personhood right now though. Or at all.

“Come. Here.”

Hard metal between you, and every atom in your body screams not to comply. So you don’t.

When you shake your head, he snarls and slams his fist into the barrier again. You squeak this time, can’t help it, and try to become one with the wall.

He rages for a few minutes. Demands you, your compliance. At some point you just have to draw your knees up to your chest and lean your head against them. If he could get through, he would have by now. Let his anger become a terrifying background noise, a soundtrack for fear.

It’s when he goes quiet again that the fear returns. Your head snaps up. He’s staring again, still. Just like before. His arms are crossed - biceps huge, straining. There’s a sizable bulge pressed against the bars. Obscene.

“Best get your rest now, little girl,” he rumbles. Even and deceptively calm. “Because when that door opens, I’m not gonna be nice about it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Stop it.”

A puff of air. You can’t tell if it’s amused or annoyed. “Say it while you can, ‘cause it won’t make a difference later.”

You shudder through your next inhale, heart pounding. Try to wrestle yourself under control, convince yourself that Laswell won’t actually give you up to him. Not when she’s already gotten what she wanted from him.

A sound breaks you from your frantic meditation, slick and wet. You look up without thinking. Soap is fucking viciously into his fist, eyes trained on you. The head of his cock is flushed an angry red, dripping with precum, shiny and needy.

“Regret being a little bitch now?” he growls. “Now that you see what’s going in that prissy little cunt?”

You clench and cramp at the very thought. He’s massive, not just long but thick. You wouldn’t be shocked if your fingers didn’t touch wrapped around him — not that you should be considering those logistics. It’ll just freak you out more.

“Can smell your wet pussy from here, hen. Bet I’ll knock you up on the first try.” He squeezes almost cruelly, knuckles banging against the bars as his hips jerk.

You press your thighs together, trying not to think about it. Not to think about all that bulk pinning you down and using you. Big, rough hands and sharp, mean teeth while he—

“Stop,” you grit out, to yourself this time.

His breath shudders, a rough noise dragging up his throat. You twitch back as cum splatters the floor, coats the metal in milky drops. You stare at the mess, mortified.

“Well?” he rasps and your eyes snap back to his. “Going to lick it up like the bitch you are?”

You swallow and curl up tighter. He takes that for the denial it is.

“S’alright,” he says, “you’ll get a taste soon enough.”

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