#nikto x f!reader

[celestialprincesse]

I’m not sure if you’ll write for Nikto or maybe even angst? Need to feel something, ignore if you’re not comfortable!

I was thinking neighbor!Nikto x civilian hyper fem!reader she just wants to get close to this masked, mean older man but he doesn’t want to hurt this sweet lil thing that’s always so loving towards him and the thought is scaring them away because of the way he looks TERRIFIES the poor man :(

Always down for when you write König. Love your lil wrinkly brain and all its ideas and words. Mwuah! Smooch!

how have I never written him before omg? I need to write more Nik & König💖 I cannot write angst for shit but pls enjoy n e ways 💕

You're on his doorstep again. Another plate too. Nikto knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should try and ignore you - maybe pretend that no one's home, not that he'd really be able to get that by you when his car is parked in the driveway and the lights are on. With a sigh, the front door is opened, and you're faced with the unmoving presence of your new neighbour, a balaclava covering most of his face, a black hoodie pulled on over top just for good measure.

"You are here again." He observes flatly, unable to contain the way his eyes widen as you bounce from foot to foot in your frilly little skirt. "I bought sharlotka!" You chirp, having practised the Russian pronunciation as you baked the cake, and on the short walk over to his home. Nikto observes the cake with a scrutinising eye before hesitantly inviting you into his home. Shame burns his features when he can't help but to stare at your ass as you make your way inside. "Yes. I can see that."

You refuse to let his indifferent tone deter you as you place the plate down on his table, before just sort of lingering awkwardly in his kitchen, holding the plate of cake out to him like an offering. "I will bring you back the plate tomorrow." Is his obvious dismissal, which has you scurrying back to his front door, waving a clearly disappointed goodbye.

You're not so easy to get rid of.

The next time you see him is in the grocery store, an ideal location for your flawless plan to unfold. Kind of flawless. Not really very well thought out but you're desperate to win his attention. If that means baking so many Russian desserts that they're up to your ears, or conveniently cornering him in the store, that's what you'll do. "I'm so sorry!" The sound of your squeak rings in Nikto's ears as he turns around with lightning speed to steady your shoulders. You like the way his hands envelop your entire pink-clad biceps as he frowns down at you. "Hello, again." The way your ears perk up at his thickly accented voice doesn't go missed by Nikto, and he allows himself to wish, just for a moment, that he could have you as his. He wonders what it would be like to shop for groceries with you, to go home and stock the fridge. He wonders whether you'd let him bend you over the kitchen countertop or fuck you in nothing but the frilly pink apron he's seen you wear through your kitchen window. You're far too precious for that. Far too pretty for a man like him. So why do you keep coming back, stupid girl.

"I made stroganoff." You chirp, shooting him your best puppy eyes, trying to find a chip in the armour that must be there somewhere. He is, after all, just a man. "That is nice." He grunts, handing you back your basket, taking a step back. Maybe if he stays away from you physically, his mind will follow suit. "I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner. With me."

God, he'd love to come for dinner with you. He'd like to help set the table, and eat a hearty meal prepared by someone who cares for him enough to learn to cook the meals he ate as a child. He'd love to spend the evening with you, bring you a nice bottle of wine and wrap his arms around your waist as you tidy up, press kisses down the back of your neck and smell your sweet perfume up close.

"I am busy tonight."

[ghouljams]

(cw: noncon somnophilia, but romantic? it's fine)

Nikto tries so hard to stay away from his pretty Aphrodite, his sweet perfect thing, keeps thinking that if he can only stay gone long enough you'll start washing the soot from the bottoms of your feet. It's harder than he tells himself. Even without your invitation he finds himself waiting at the opening of your bedroom, watching the way moonlight wraps itself around your body, counting the soft breaths that slip between your lips and --when he's feeling particularly weak-- eventually coming close enough to draw the blanket back from your naked body. Just enough to lay his eyes on you properly, to remind himself that his darkness still sticks to you, to trace his hand over your stomach and wonder idly if it's swollen.

Enough to feel his mouth water, to recognize the way his tongue slides over his teeth, to touch his fingers to the inside of your thigh with a silent hope that you'll spread your legs wider, so that he doesn't have to find that unused shred of guilt that threatens to needle at him at having disturbed your slumber. So that he can lick your cunt without having you squirm and scramble to find a grip on him. The desperate movement of your hips, the breathless noises and sharp gasps that you let out, are his undoing. Each brush of your fingers through his dark hair deludes him into thinking he could stay longer, linger closer, it's better to find you sleeping like this. Especially when his desires have so little to do with him.

When all he wants in the world is to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, to lap at the succor that drips from you, to wet his fingers on your slick. There is no ambrosia quite as satiating as that which wets your folds and sticks to his tongue, and none he finds quite as sweet. He wraps his arms around your thighs and buries himself in your cunt. Perhaps he cannot bring himself to stay with you through the night, but he can give himself this. Greedy, selfish, ah he never claimed to be a good man, only told himself he could be full from your touch.

Clearly there's no quenching his thirst for you, no filling of any bellies but yours. And with each stroke of his tongue, Nikto thinks perhaps that is his fault as well.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Gushing to your friends about your fiance, Nikto/Andre, and them curiously asking to see a picture of him. He's been such a mysterious and elusive figure in your life, from their understanding he's just an introverted guy who doesn't get out much.

You giddily swipe through your photo album and pull out a slightly blurry selfie of his the only one he's sent that doesn't look like rushed Bigfoot sighting photography.

And whilst you're smiling ear to ear, gushing about how sweet and kind he is, your friends just stare in horror because IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER??!!!!

[grey-cyrus]

✦Bear Hybrid Nikto Pt. 2

TW: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of harming one’s self for love, as well as mental instability.

The cold and rubbery canteen food with the slight aftertaste of death wasn’t his favorite meal. He would rather eat this than starve but it wasn’t very enjoyable, considering there was chewy bits in the…whatever that red slop is on his plate. He suspected mashed beets, but it had a tang to it that suggested otherwise.

He was almost finished with his tray, until you walked in. Your tail happily swaying as you walk with pride over to the lunch line. He almost got choked on an already dry biscuit. He coughed loudly, to the point it grabbed the attention of a couple tables over from his own lonely table.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, those cute scrubs you always wore. The sterile white with the black hearts, just like his. But his heart wasn’t as cold as he originally thought, this little heifer had captivated him. Ruined him.

As you sat down at a table with your friends, you couldn’t help the eerie feeling you got. Like someone was watching you. Gazing your eyes away from your friend for a second, you found it. The stern deep set, ice-blue eyes that were staring into your soul. The face hidden behind the mask looking lifeless as ever, yet his eyes told a different story. One of fascination.

But that wasn’t the case, he was enamored by you. He hid his feelings behind a curious but stern stare. He could help but want to feel those little rounded horns poke his chin as he held onto you in bed. The way your tail would wrap around him, tangling your body’s together. His world view was nothing but you anymore, he couldn’t think straight.

He would tell off a recruit for acting up during drills, but in the back of his mind he wondered if you would ever yell at him like this. And that thought, stirred something in him. He was truly, and utterly yours. He couldn’t stand being away from you, so when you got up to leave and go back to the med-bay. He did something drastic.

Before he knew it, he abandoned his half eaten tray of what felt like imitation food. Following you, close behind but never too far to lose sight of his little heifer.

You went about your day blissfully unaware that Nikto had snuck into the med-bay. Caring for patients for hours, until it was time to go back to your barrack. You unlocked the door, stepping inside but before you could process what happened. There was a gloved, thick hand around your mouth. The other grabbing your hands and pinning them behind your back.

“Hello, my little heifer. We missed you, dearly.”

It was at that moment you could feel your heart drop, body coiled and wracking with fear. You were dead. You were sure of it. Tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, muffled begs of mercy came from your mouth without you even realizing it.

“Shh, Shh. I know, I know. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m not gonna hurt you, my pretty heifer.”

You couldn’t calm down, there was a man holding you hostage in your own barrack! All you could do was plead with your eyes as he started to grab something out of his tactical belt.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just gonna take what’s mine.” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips, terror coursing through you in waves. To the point you felt light headed due to all the adrenaline crashing to your brain from your adrenal gland.

He released your mouth to tie your hands with a rope, you gasped for air. Your lungs drinking in the air like it was ice-cold spring water. Your heart hammering in your chest, every movement, sound, and breath against your neck sent electric shocks through your spine. Goosebumps rising on the skin of where your neck meets the shoulder, his warm breath would be comforting in any other situation than this one.

“Let me go! Please!…Please. I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Let me go.” You could almost feel the weighing of his decision, considering he momentarily stopping tying your wrists. One hand firmly bound, the other enveloped in his large ones.

“Дерьмо.” That was the best sign you ever had of getting free, him reverting back to his native tongue usually meant you would get your way. Or is what you thought before he tightened the rope to the point it was bruising. You let out a yelp, he didn’t care he jerked them even tighter. “You think you get to leave me? You think you get to roam free? You’re mine, and as long as I’m here you won’t see another man again. And if you did, I would cut off his dick and feed it to the sorry excuse for a man. Nobody deserves you but me, no one can worship you like me.”

“If this is what you call worshiping I would hate to see your anger. Would you actually kill me if you were upset with me?” Your eyebrows furrowed as he grabbed your chin, turning you to face him. “Never, you’re mine and I protect what’s mine. I would rather gut myself with my favorite knife than hurt one delicate hair on your head.”

“That didn’t seem to matter when you tied my hands together, it still hurts.” You said with a hint of judgement at his almost bipolar of a change. “That’s cause I couldn’t have my girl running away.”

You looked like you had the most bombshell secret dropped on you, eyebrows furrowed as your mouth feel open. His girl? You were not his girl. You never wanted to be his girl after this, he could’ve asked you out, taken the nice guy approach not this deranged and sick way.

“Your girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not your property.” “I never said you were.” “Then what’s with all the “You’re mine.” Bullshit?” “That’s making sure you know who you belong to.” You couldn’t help but feel he was stupid, with a slight eye roll. “That’s the same thing.”

He didn’t even respond as he lifted you over his shoulder with ease, you were surprised he could lift you. Even if he was a bear hybrid, you were a cow. A bear lifting a cow. What a crazy sight.

He carried you effortlessly to his barrack, bringing you inside and shutting the door.

—To Be Continued—

Master-List

✦Tags✦

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[mariamakeslemons]

Kinktober 2024: Day 21 Monsterfucking/ Shower sex

Warning: Mention of past torture, mention of animalistic shifting (not bestiality, but beast like appendages), blood mention

This is an offshoot of Spooktober Day 2

Nikto doesn’t know how he’s ended up in your shower, but he’s relishing under your soft touch. So careful with his healed skin, you went out to get delicate bodywash and shampoo, smelling nothing like your usual scent. However, he forgives it as you and he now smell similar. As his mate, you should smell like him.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you ask, gently rubbing at his skin. Nikto shakes his head and leans against you, soaking in your body heat happily. You hum softly, continuing to clean him. He watches you, his hands settling on your hips and he squeezes. Your hum cuts off for a moan and he freezes, his eyes dilating as the scent of arousal fights through the water falling.

“Again,” he rasps, squeezing your hips again. You gasp instead, but the burst of arousal occurs again. Nikto’s mouth waters, his eyeteeth itching in his gums as he bends down to get a good smell. Your hands wrap around him and pull him close without fear, even baring your throat to him.

“Too sweet,” he rumbles, dragging his teeth over your skin. You sigh, pressing even closer and not saying anything as his cock hardens against your hip. Nikto recalls your bewilderment at how his cock looks. Once, it had been described as a monster bitch breaker with breeder balls (a mouthy prostitute had said that and it stayed in his head ever since weirdly enough), but the torture that made him Nikto didn’t spare his cock or balls. Half of his cock’s skin is heavily burned and missing one of his testes. However, you also blew him without complaint and he managed to coat your face in cum all the same.

You show how little you care about how it looks again as you gently take his cock in hand and start jerking it. Nikto groans and humps against your hand, nuzzling against your throat as his nails grow and sharpen to claws on your hips. His skin tightens and scales, his teeth sharpening in his mouth as hair grows on his back and the palms of his hand. You laugh softly, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Are you that pent up?” you ask, “You’re shifting into your vampire form.”

“Yessss,” Nikto hisses, bucking his hips as his feet shift into a form better for water hunting. Again, you laugh, stepping back from him and turning to bare your ass for Nikto.

“Well then,” you declare, looking over your shoulder and shaking your ass at him, “Let’s let some of that energy out.” Nikto rumbles and crowds against you, his cock taking a more animalistic form with a knot to heighten the chance of getting a mate pregnant. He presses in, drooling and growling as he fucks into you. The gasps and whines you make are sweet, almost enough for him to not bite you. Almost.

“Nikto!” you cry out as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He licks at your blood, purring happily as that sweet red elixir slides down his throat. You’re marked as his mate and his feeder, a perfect little “wife” all for him.

“Mine,” he snarls, snapping his hips into you. You moan and claw desperately at the tile wall, looking for something to hold onto desperately. Nikto can’t have that, he needs to control your movements, make sure you’re ready for his seed. He fucks into you desperately, repeating, “Mine, mine, mine.” A chant, a song, a form of salvation. He needs you all sweet and soft, all ready for him to fill up, to breed full, to create a family of little monsters like him. A few more thrusts and his eyes roll back as he comes inside you. The noise you make is heaven sent, clenching and clinging to his cock as you cum too. Eventually, you slide back, leaning against his chest as his monstrous form reverts, leaving a human-looking man in its place.

“Good for me,” he soothes, already planning to take you out of the slick shower and onto the soft bed for another round. You whimper, sliding down and dragging Nikto with you. He sputters, surprised at his loss of strength while sliding down with you. You let out a dopy laugh as he quietly curses in Russian, although he still presses soft kisses to your bite mark as an apology.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

An Ode To Greed

Nikto x F!Reader || Smut Drabble W. An Utterly Down Bad Man (AKA Nikto)

No Dark Themes - Body worship, praise/dirty talk, p in v, edging, implied overstim, cunnilingus, implied somnophilia (but it's totally up to you), domestic Nikto, implied dom/sub & switch dynamics, etc. Minors interacting will be blocked.

Nikto was nothing less than an attentive lover. 

Many days you found the man already done with the chores before you had the chance to get up—the light spilling through the curtains on his day off from KorTac. He was an early riser, the large Russian, always itching to move and to get his mind going. The mornings were organized, methodical, and always delicately thought out to the last detail: what cup he would use for his tea—black tea, of course, with lemon—to what he would clean first. Even down to the ingredients of the breakfast he would make you, leveled and weighed on the kitchen counter waiting for his experienced hand.

You left the cooking to him, and he never disappointed. 

But…on the very rare days Nikto chose to sleep in, that body as big and as all-consuming as a bear rumbling right next to yours, it was something to greedily latch at like a cat with a toy. Luckily, your influence was the one thing that could always reduce the Russian to a panting dog in heat. 

“Птичка,” Nikto grunts harshly into your ear, his hand grasping your hip as your breasts jerk along the mattress under you. Your mouth is open in a feral example of drunk pleasure, fingers kneading the ruined sheets. “Good girl, yes? Taking it so deep for us, this cunt.”

You whine loudly, eyes clenching shut as the sounds of wet rutting echo in your ringing ears. Your legs shake, backside up and chest stuck to the bed with Nikto’s shadow looming, repeating the action of grinding his cock in and out of your weeping slit one shove of his pelvis at a time. Everything about him was large, down from his appetite to his need for sex—you were always happy to feed him in whatever way possible. 

Nikto’s hand rubs up and down your thigh, pulling himself back to grip the both of them tightly and watch, sweat dripping down his throat. The cold eyes widen at the sight of your pussy taking him down one increasingly fast thrust at a time, the shine of your slick staining his thighs, slipping down where it cools and adds to the dichotomy of temperatures. 

“Speak,” he licks his lips, pushing your sleep shirt higher up your back with a flexing hand. He needs to watch. Nikto flights down a shaky breath, head tilting to the side as your walls tighten. The Russian groans throatily, clenching his teeth and bearing them like a mutt.

He’s been edging you for hours, a near-cruel way to see your eyes go glossy and drool to pool on the sheets. He almost gave in multiple times—particularly when he’d been tongue-deep into you, running his calloused thumb over your clit as your thighs trapped his head at your core. The remnants still drip from the divots of his facial scars, and he licks at the corner of his mouth to taste once more with a grunt of worshiping satisfaction. 

Delicious.

When you can’t utter up more than a writhing whimper, nostrils flaring for air and lungs heaving, you hear his low chuckle before fingers grasp your chin firmly and pull. A tongue finds the side of your angled face as you’re trapped against his bulky chest, his arm strapping your side as the muscle leaves a long stripe of saliva over your jaw.

The angle leaves him thrusting up, and his free hand travels slowly from your waist to your pulsing bundle of nerves, tapping your flesh cunningly as he goes.

You moan brokenly through an agonizing electricity of senses, head snapping back to Nikto’s shoulder as your hips jerk; back arching as the tension in your body grows ever stronger. 

You needed it—you needed to let go, feel the devastating breaking of your release slamming through you. 

“Speak,” Nikto grinds out into your ear as tears slip from the corner of your eyes—teeth bite all along your neck, thighs smashing into the back of yours. All the while, rapid circles run over your clit, and the sounds follow a feral rhythm that would leave no question to anyone else as to what was going on in this bedroom. It was the way you’d been reduced to nothing but a toy for him to ring pleasure out of that made this perfect—starting so greedily that you’d had him all to yourself this morning; letting his eyes roll into the back of his head as you’d rode him, his arms shaking as his spend had filled you, spilling out over his lower body when he’d finally finished his broken thrusting. 

“Nikto,” you stutter, biting your lip and feeling every inch of his cock bringing you closer and closer to an orgasm that you’d been begging for ages to let loose. “Please, fuck, please, I’m so close.”

“Да,” Nikto grunts, holding you closer as you quiver in a deliriously confused arousal, playing with you. He smirks, but you know the tension in his abdomen that builds and builds against your spine. The man pants, cruising out in growled Russian under his breath, heavy and hard. He barks, “Can feel it. We know your little squirms by now, hm? We know that way your eyes roll back—your pretty pussy, Птичка. She is too good for me,” Niko smirks into your skin, taking a deep breath as his fantasies take over, hot breath puffed into your slick flesh. “I can’t help but want to leave her begging one more time, just to watch how she will flutter.”

“Please!” You sob, hands clawing behind to grasp at the man’s head, shoving it further into your neck as your body tightens, legs all but numb. The Russian grumbles in approval, liking the way your nails drag his close-shorn hair. “Fuck, Nikto, please, I need it so bad.”

It was like you’d lost your mind and your dignity all at once. 

“We know,” Nikto’s scars move up and down your back, and you can sense every rub and caress of them intimately. To have him in this way was as addictive as it was the first time. 

Nikto bites more and more at your shoulders, nipping your ear and inhaling your scent—so much like a dog it was pathetic the way he was obsessed with your body; your orgasm. While you had no trouble coaxing one out of him in whichever way you desired, he always made yours a spectacle and a mystery. Rope, toys, blindfolds…there was only a limit if you said there was one, and that was something that only needed to be said once.

But there was something to be worshipped about the raw, animalistic, desperate fucking with Nikto that never seemed to get old. Especially when it was in your bed, especially when you had watched his cold eyes be blown wide by lust as his cock grew hard, especially when you could spend the rest of the day naked in your penthouse; skin on skin, switching dominance like a coin to be tossed. 

Nikto was good at giving you exactly what you wanted, and not an inch less. So different from the standoffish brute that he showed to everyone else. Nonetheless, he was, you suppose, still that same brute—but your brute. And, fuck, if he wasn’t using you like a perfect deadly instrument in his arsenal, making sure you worked properly. 

Your breath is cut off to gasped moans, lower body vibrating and cunt so wet that the sloping suck of Nikto’s stained cock was heard and felt far more violently. 

The man’s gargantuan hand spreads from your flesh to press into your abdomen, and you sob loudly at the sensation of thin skin above the indent of a prodding mound; nails almost drawing blood from where they drag at Nikto’s head.

“Please,” you repeat as if a broken record. “Oh, Nikto, please, fuck—”

“Shh,” Nikto shushes, still abusing your clit before he presses his previously prodding hand above your heart, in the process, groping at your breast; kneading as you place open-mouthed and saliva-dripping kisses to the beast’s chin—a coy attempt to please him into allowing you your nearing release. 

Nikto’s fingers push and pull, and your walls strangle him just right until his balls are betraying him, tensed and near bursting as he grunts and groans, all of his words a garble of gravel and sandpaper. 

The accent, while it lets you know he’s just as desperate as you are when it gets like that, only makes the knot in your stomach flare with friction. You loved it when he was minutes away from breaking.

“Want to feel your heart stutter.” It’s more of a command than a suggestion, and your hips try to meet his rutting as best as they can, arms losing strength as the pressure mounts you as Nikto does. Voice a harsh grind, he accentuates his point by pushing you back down the mattress all the way, getting the angle he needs to pound into the softest part of your cunt as you keen so loud you’re thankful you have the place all to yourselves because you can’t stop making sounds you can’t be described. Your body is bent and pushed to the limit, sweat and the scent of sex potent in your nose. 

Nikto fucks like it’s the last time you’ll ever take his cock. 

“Want to know the exact moment you claw for air again when you gasp it all away, my Птичка. My sweet little Птичка. Drug to my senses, yes? Can never take cunt unless it’s yours,” his voice grows faster, breathier, English words slurring until he divulges into his mother tongue, losing all sense beyond how you suck him in and squeeze him—warm walls inviting and the only place to spill himself. He can’t even jerk off anymore; you’ve ruined it for him. 

He needs to fill you up until he has nothing left to give: the only mission that he’d complete time and time again with no complaints or second guesses. The only mission that mattered. 

Nikto barks and spits, biting your flesh as you plead one last time.

“Tell me,” you all but shout. “Tell me I can—”

“Да!” Is the reverberating answer, and the way your body immediately responds is nothing short of utter devotion. 

Your body seizes, shoving itself into the mattress as the headboard slams into the wall, arching and toes curling—the knot in your core snaps as if cut by a crude knife, sawing you in half as your release gushes to flood out of the ring of Nikto’s plug. 

The Russian’s hand over your breast squeezes as you ride out your high on him, Nikto’s own orgasm rising to meet yours as it always does, only able to get off after he knows he’s done a good job of pleasing you. His scarred face buries itself into your neck, mouth open as his silent release is accented by the small, cut-off, grunt he gives with every slowing thrust. The joining of your flooded womb and his shining cock is a milky frothing of cum, sounding like someone slapping thickened water as the sticky juices are a testament to lustful need. They slip down your thighs, as Nikto licks and sucks on your skin, unable to slip himself out of you and your welcoming walls as they flutter. 

With every tightening surge of your cunt, he instinctively grinds himself further into you again, and you whine as his lips finally find your mouth, tongue pushing inside, still tasting of your cum. Eyes rolling back, you let his tiny thrusts continue if only to hear his canid-like groans and feel the slap of his balls so close to your puffy clit. 

You moan into his mouth as his teeth nip at your lips, sucking at your tongue before the ringing of your ears fades to hear his growls between the wet gasps.

“Get a good taste of us. I’m greedy, yes? Hungry. No worries…you will be our завтрак.”

The rolling over of your body and the spreading of your legs is all but expected, and you lay there with a smirk rising to your sweaty face as the monstrous man slips downward and slots his face right back where it belongs: shoving itself up against your fucked-out cunt, Nikto’s cum slobbering out and mixed with your own.

The first swipe of his greedy, fat tongue has your shaking legs curling around his head as he shudders in arousal, grunting out muffled words as you whine and slam your head back to the pillow.

“Вкусный.”  

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

A/N: Literally idk where this came from but, I guess, take some Nikto smut lmao - still writing my reverse Price AU, but this hit me like a truck out of nowhere. Forgive me if this is literally horrible - I wrote it at 10, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, lol

[diejager]

Hybrid AUs masterlist

Reminder : My blog contains dark/yandere content and have 18+ fanfics, so MDNI with NSFW fics. I also do fluff and angst. All my works are fiction : I don’t own any of the characters I write for; there might be triggering subjects - please see the warnings before reading. None of the gifs or visuals I use in my fics are mine.

Your consumption of media is your responsibility and yours alone.

Nav | CoD

[dark, fluff, yandere, nsfw(*), angst, request]

Wolfie

Pairing: cod men x wolf hybrid!reader

Wolfie | r,f

Training* | r (Price&Ghost)

Tiger Heat* | r,f (tiger!Horangi)

Another... One? | r,f (wolf!Nikto)

Doe

Pairing: Task Force 141 x doe hybrid!reader

Doe* | r,d

Normal | r,d

Bunny

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x bunny hybrid!reader

Bunny | r,f

Needy Bunny pt1* | r

Needy Bunny pt2* | r

Biting Bunny | r

Puppy

Pairing: Task Force 141 x puppy!reader

Puppy* | d

headcanon* | r,f,d

Hyper* | r

Pairing: Ghoap x puppy!reader

Quiet, Pup* | r,f

Pairing: multi x puppy!reader

Calamari | r,f

Cow

Pairing: Bull!cod men x cow!reader

Pasture* | r

Milk* | r

Swollen* | r

Kitty

Headcanon* | d,r

Bear

Honey Slick* | r,f

[the-froschamethyst4]

My voice and my ears

𖤐Pairing: Nikto x F!Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: heartwarming fluff, angst, language, married couple, size difference, mute! Reader, slightly deaf! Nikto, kissing, Nikto's insecurities, ASL (American Sign Language),

𖤐Summary: Ever since Nikto left the military his hearing became bad and had to start hearing hearing aides to help him, and now he's married to a mute woman who is his ears, and he's her voice

————

————

"Can you hear me now, Nikto?" The doctor asked while adjusting the volume on Nikto's hearing aides.

"Yes...loud and clear," he says.

"Good."

Nikto walked out of the doctors office with hearing aides, he's been in battle, guns firing so close to his ears that you would think he busted an eardrum.

But once he retired from the Military he has noticed his hearing was awful, couldn't hear what someone right next to him was saying would sometimes yell and didn't even know it.

He entered the front door to his small home, he shared with his wife, Y/n. Y/n was mute, didn't talk, well she lost her voice when she was a child, she had a throat disease called Laryngitis, the inflammation of the larynx, also known as the voice box, can cause changes or voice loss.

She stood at the door greeting him with a smile, hoping her recommendation to the doctor worked.

He just nods and moved his head from side to side showing her his hearing aides.

'I told you they knew what they were talking about' she signs to him.

"I know, I should have listened the first time," he says and chuckles.

Now Nikto wasn't fully deaf, just a bit, of course if you yelled at him, he could hear you, but if you were soft spoken, he would be yelling at you to speak up like an elderly person.

Y/n walks up to him glad he wasn't being stubborn like usual and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

--------------------

It has been close to a week, Nikto was still getting use to his hearing aides, turning down the volume if needed or turning it up. He was mowing the lawn and turned the volume of them down, the sound was annoying and gave him a slight headache and if he's not careful will make a high pitch ringing in his ears.

He was coming to the last patch of overgrown grass and saw his wife standing on the back porch. He stops the mower and walks up to her.

"You okay?" He asked worried.

'Yes, I just wanted to see if you wanted water.' She smiles up at him.

Nikto couldn't tell you how he has an amazing wife. He doesn't even know why she married him too.

"God, I love you, woman."

'Take it, before I change my mind,' she giggles. He does take it from her soft hands and sips on it for a bit, he walks to the chairs on the back porch and sat down, he grabs a hold of Y/n's waist and pulls her to sit on his lap.

"I'm almost done with the lawn, I just need a shower and we can go get groceries." He signs.

'Take your time...no rush,' she bends down and kissing his forehead.

---------------------

Y/n held onto Nikto's arm as he pushes the cart, Nikto was always by Y/n because well, she was technically he only friend, but why would that matter? His only friend can be his wife, who cares. He's attached at her hip 24/7.

She grabbed some bread and placed it into the cart, she grabbed two different kinds, white and wheat. Nikto liked wheat while, Y/n likes white.

"Well, look at you two, you are so tall," a woman says, next to Nikto talking to Nikto, but he didn't hear her. Y/n smiles and then motions Nikto to the woman.

"I'm sorry, what?" He turns his hearing aide up a bit.

"I said you two look so cute, and you're so tall. How tall are you?" She asked.

"Oh. I'm 6'4."

"Wow, so tall, and you miss?" She looks at Y/n. Y/n then starts to sign and Nikto translates.

"5'4." He says.

"Oh my, is she deaf?"

"No, just a mute, she has a disease that hurts her voice box, so she can't speak-"

"And I see you have hearing aides."

"I was in the Military and slowly started to lose my hearing, that's why I didn't hear you the first time," he tells her.

"You two are just a perfect couple, you're her voice, and she's your ears," the lady giggles.

"Yeah," he looks at Y/n, who just smiles. "We are," he leans down a bit and kisses Y/n lips.

"Thank you, miss," Nikto says.

"Of course, you two be good."

"We will," he smiles. Y/n held onto Nikto's arm again and walked with him through the different aisles.

'Are we a perfect couple?' Y/n signs while looking up at Nikto.

"I think so...I mean...come on now, honey, we both have our differences, we argue like a normal couple, but we take care of each other...just like in our vows, we both vowed to take care of one another even through sickness, health, rain or shine," he tells her with a smile which cause Y/n to smile.

'Thank you, Nikto...now why not be a good husband and get me the sugar off the top shelf?' She then points to the sugar she always gets. He chuckles and shakes his head before reaching up and grabbing the sugar.

----------------

After getting home Y/n was putting away groceries and Nikto was helping. Y/n wanted to go ahead and start prepping for dinner. She opens one of the cabinets but instead of asking for help from Nikto, she jumps on the counter, standing up and rummaging through the cabinet.

"Oh I hate when you do that," Nikto said, his hands going to her waist and taking her off the counter with such ease.

'I was getting the seasonings,' she signs.

"But I hate when you get on the counter like that, one wrong move and you could hurt yourself," he tells her with worry in his voice.

'Fine...can you get the turmeric then?' Which he gets with no issue.

-----------------

Dinner was good, and Nikto and Y/n were just laying on their couch, snuggling close to one another, the TV on watching one of their shows they started watching together.

'Do you think she'll die?' Y/n asked, looking up at Nikto talking about what was happening on the TV.

"Maybe, I don't know though, she seems like she knows what she is doing, but then again I could be wrong and she does," Nikto says. "I mean if she dies, she dies, it's not like they'll bring her back to life."

'True.'

Nikto started to move his hands around her body, running from her shoulder to under her shirt resting on her bare stomach. Nikto was always touchy when he was home alone with his wife, alone together, and when he's tired he gets even more touchy as a way to let Y/n know he was tired and wanted to go to bed.

She looks up at him and kisses his chin.

'Come on, Nikto...let's go to bed, we can watch this later,' she signs to him, standing up and placed her hand out for him to take, which he does and he tiredly followed his wife up to their bedroom.

Nikto laid on his side of the bed and Y/n got on her side, moving the covers to her shoulders and the covers rested at Nikto's waist. Y/n closed her eyes as she moved closer to Nikto.

"Good night, love."

'Good night,' she signs with a smile.

[cupidsworstcrime]

au inspo - possible fic ideas under the cut but send asks w/ ideas

Northpoint Vice hockey team got sponsored by Velvet Vice Gentleman's Club and had to pick dancer names for their jerseys:

1. Johnny – “Bambi”

2. Simon – “Velvet”

3. Kyle – “Prince”

4. Roach – “Peach”

5. König – “Candy”

6. Graves – “Roxxxie”

7. Alejandro – “Strawberry”

8. Rudy – “Luna”

9. Horangi – “Venom”

10. Nikto – “Bliss”

Bonus: The Coaches' Reactions

Laswell: “If any of you show up to a charity event wearing these, I’m disowning you.” Reluctantly wears a coach jersey with "Violet."

Price: Refused to wear a dancer's name, but eventually got assigned “Daddy.” Didn’t change it.

("teams have more members" suspend your disbelief for me here)

possible fic prompts

Johnny x f!reader

You’re the team’s new physical therapist—young, professional, and not at all impressed by Johnny’s charm. But when a knee injury sidelines him, he’s forced to rely on you during recovery. As weeks go by, your relationship shifts from irritation to reluctant trust to something much softer… and much more dangerous to both your careers.

Simon x m!reader

You’re the team’s media coordinator, and no one is harder to wrangle for interviews than Simon. You’re persistent, he’s avoidant—until a quiet night in an empty stadium leads to an unplanned conversation about loss, reputation, and the masks men wear. The walls don’t fall easily, but maybe they don’t need to crash all at once.

Kyle x f!reader

You’re the team’s new PR crisis manager, brought in after one of Simon's sarcastic comments goes viral. He’s prickly at first—joking, defensive—but behind the scenes, he’s the only one who notices when you’re unraveling under pressure. What starts as late-night hotel hallway chats turns into something quieter, closer.

Roach x f!reader

You run a local diner the team frequents after games. Roach always lingers a little longer, helps you wipe down the counters, asks about your day. When the city’s budget threatens to shut your business down, he rallies the team behind your back to help save it—but you're not sure how to feel when you find out.

König x m!reader

You’re the new assistant coach, and König is the one player you can't figure out. He’s huge, quiet, and defensive—until he sees you break down after a press conference goes sideways. What starts as mutual silence becomes late-night conversations in the locker room… and growing feelings neither of you want to name.

Graves x f!reader

You’re the head bartender at Velvet Vice, the strip club sponsoring the team. You’ve known Graves for years—before the team, before the public image—and now you’re watching him spiral under the pressure to perform. You’ve always said you wouldn’t fall for a man like him. But he keeps calling, keeps showing up, keeps trying.

Nikto x m!reader

You’re an old friend from his past—before hockey, before the fame. You show up to a game uninvited, not knowing if he'll even remember you. But he does. And the long, silent walks you used to take together start happening again… only now, the tension between you is very different.

Alejandro x f!reader

You’re a local journalist who’s made it her mission to expose the darker side of pro sports. Alejandro challenges you, flirts with you, dares you to see the good in the team. You want to resist him—until he shows you the charity work he does behind the scenes, and the lonely man hiding beneath the swagger.

Rudy x m!reader

You’re a local artist hired to repaint the arena murals. Rudy is the only player who stays after practice just to talk to you—about music, about the moon, about loneliness. You start leaving sketches for him to find. He starts leaving notes in return. And then one night, he leaves a ticket with your name on it.

Horangi x f!reader

You’re a single mom whose son idolizes Horangi. After a PR event, he starts showing up to your son’s games, teaching him tricks, being there. You’re wary—used to unreliable men and broken promises—but Horangi’s loyalty is fierce, and he seems determined to prove that he doesn’t just want your son’s admiration… he wants your trust.

Price x f!reader

You’re a sports psychologist brought in after a violent outburst during a game. Price is wary of you, but slowly lets you in. As you dig into the team's emotional issues, you uncover his own guilt and burnout from trying to keep everyone together. What he doesn’t know is that you’re falling for him—and that you’re not sure it’s ethical to stay.

x stripper!reader vers

Johnny x f!reader

You dance under the name Pixie, and Johnny flirts with you relentlessly after every sponsored event at Velvet Vice. But behind the teasing, you see something familiar—someone performing a persona to survive. When he asks you to teach him how to move for a charity number, it becomes something neither of you expected: vulnerable. And intimate.

Simon x m!reader

You’re the other Velvet, a sensual, elusive performer who doesn’t talk to clients. But Ghost sees you after a game, and for some reason—you talk to him. What starts as wary, wordless companionship grows into private conversations and soft touches shared backstage. He doesn’t care about your job. He cares that you remember how he takes his tea.

Kyle x f!reader

You’re Nova, a dancer known for your poise and elegance—until someone cuts your music mid-performance as a "joke." You hold it together, but Gaz sees the shake in your hands after. He doesn’t say much, just offers his jacket and stays with you in the dressing room until you can breathe again.

Roach x f!reader

You’re Dahlia, the bubbly star of the Vice stage and the only dancer who actually finds Roach’s nickname cute. He’s shy with you at first, until you catch him patching up your broken heel without saying a word. You offer to teach him a routine as a joke. He says yes. That’s how the late-night sessions begin—and the secrets start slipping out.

König x m!reader

Your stage name is Mercy, and you’re used to people being intimidated by your act—except König. He comes to the Vice alone after away games, always sitting quietly in the corner, never staring. One night, you leave him a drink. A week later, he walks you home. Neither of you say much. But you keep finding reasons to meet in the silence.

Graves x f!reader

You’re Candy, the headliner Graves swears he “only respects professionally.” He doesn’t want to fall for you—you're everything he can’t control. But when your apartment gets broken into, and he’s the one you call, things spiral. He wants to protect you. You want your freedom. And neither of you know how to stop wanting each other.

Nikto x m!reader

You’re Silk, the Vice’s most enigmatic dancer—no one’s allowed to touch you, and no one knows your real name. Except Nikto. He saw you once, recognized you from years ago, and now sits in the front row every week like he’s waiting for you to break the spell. The worst part? You’re tempted to let him.

Alejandro x f!reader

You’re Baby, the crowd-pleaser with a sharp tongue and sharper stilettos. Alejandro’s first impression of you is all sass and glitter, until he sees you bruised in the dressing room after a drunk fan crossed a line. He goes too far defending you—but now you’re both in trouble, and bound together by consequences neither of you regret.

Rudy x m!reader

You’re Swan, a dancer known for grace and tragedy in equal measure. Rudy starts walking you to your car after work without being asked. You start saving him the last cigarette in your pack. You don’t think he sees you clearly—until he sketches you mid-performance. And it’s not your body he captured. It’s your loneliness.

Horangi x f!reader

You’re Lily, feral and unashamed on stage—but off it, you keep your distance. Horangi becomes obsessed with your duality. He starts paying for private dances, not for the show, but to talk. You think he’s mocking you at first. Then he tells you he grew up with women like you—survivors. You haven’t stopped thinking about him since.

Price x f!reader

You’re Sable, the oldest dancer at the Vice and the unofficial den mother. You’ve seen men like Price before—rigid, composed, breaking slowly under pressure. When he finally lets loose during a drunken post-game visit, you pull him into a back room and call him John. It’s the first time anyone has in months. He doesn’t ask you to stop.

[blingblong55]

Mouth and toys (HC) -Cod Men NSFW

Based on a request: Hiii feel free to ignore this but could you maybe do f!reader who doesn’t really get off on penetration x the COD guys? If not no worries, I love your work :) ---- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, just a short HC, ---- A/N: I'm sorry if it isn't as lengthy as you might've wanted also, I decided to put them in categories so I don't repeat the same vibe for each character, some names will be repeated!

Eating you out and the use of a vibrator: Alejandro, Soap, Keegan, König and Nikto. 

Foreplay, sloppy make out to get you excited, slowly teasing your bud, finally fingers you, also kisses you and whispers sweet nothings whilst you moan and squirm: Rudy, Price, Velikan and Gaz

Takes his time to get you wet enough, and doesn't try to fuck you immediately but throughout the day, he makes sure to get you just horny enough, he is like a puppy to your cunt and eats you out slowly, so gently but doesn't move away when you've climaxed, even if you cry and whine: Ghost, Alejandro, Soap, Graves, Keegan, and Nikolai

Begins by tying you up, and slowly undresses you, foreplay is a must, once he spreads your legs open, he lets his tongue run wild, this is much more for him than it is for you, he begins to spread your folds and looks up so he can watch you react to him pressing his tongue on the sensitive bud: Makarov, Ghost, König, Adler and Gaz

Vibrator tapped to your thigh so youre wet enough for him to taste, lays you on the bed, and kisses you as you whimper and beg for him to do something, he shakes his head and laughs as he watches how your needy cunt aches for him, kiss you from head to toe before finally slipping his fingers in and letting his tongue lap at your clit: Price, Soap, Nikto, Gromsko, Alejandro, and Soap

Huge on 69'ing with you so you can get that pretty mouth to work: Gaz, Ghost, Makarov, Krueger, and Nikto

A/N: Maybe I'll come back and write a separate fic for one of these

[celestialprincesse]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

More Nik just 4 you🫵😚 Trying to make this reasonably slow burn but I just want them to fuck😔

Pts 1 & 2 here!

Nikto is shitting himself. In his enthusiasm to make amends with you, to spend time with you, he completely disregarded his greatest issue. He can't eat with his mask on. He can't very well show you his face when you look like the human embodiment of Tinkerbell, and he looks like - he doesn't really know what he looks like.

Whilst your neighbour is in crisis, you're perfectly happy to flit about your house, debating whether to wear your favourite pink miniskirt or a lacy white dress. The white would compliment the pretty satin kitten heels you're wedded on, and the virginal, snow coloured lingerie set you hope is finally seen by someone who's not you, or your mirror. Your hair is perfectly styled, lipgloss applied with meticulous precision. The outfit is the only spanner in your otherwise beautifully constructed works. You're so giddy that you feel sick.

Your neighbour shares a similar struggle in selecting his outfit, realising that he hasn't taken a woman on a date in a long time, and since then, his muscles have outgrown the sleeves of the suit in the back of his closet, and the pants to match are as moth eaten and neglected as his heart. Of course he wants to look as though he's making an effort - doesn't want to make you feel anymore unwanted by him than you already do, and yet most of his clothes make him look more monolith than man, no decent fit for a woman so soft and feminine as you.

You'd never have expected him to turn up on your doorstep with flowers. Peonies with fluffy pink petals, gently wrapped in a sheet of brown paper, tied up with blush lace. Kind of like you. He would never have dreamed of the way you fling your arms around his neck, tits straining against the thin alabaster fabric of your little dress. "You like them?" He rumbles thickly into your ear, flowers hanging at his side as he wraps his free arm loosely around your back, pushing the thoughts of how the plush skin of your ass would feel in his hands. "They're wonderful." You breathe, taking a sudden step back at the realisation that you've just entirely invaded his precious personal space.

"I need to tell you something." He murmurs, words coming thick from his throat, his confession trapped down in his chest, safe where no one can find it. "Of course, anything." The gentleness in your tone only makes him hesitate further. Why should he corrupt such a soft thing like you? Tie you down to a beast like him? "I am - I need to tell you something, and I understand if you do not want to spend time with me anymore. I am deformed."

Biting your tongue feels practically impossible. You so desperately want to reassure him. How do you tell him that you can see his laundry room window perfectly from your kitchen where you spend most of your time. How do you tell him that you've seen the scars he hides when he puts his mask in the washing machine.

"That's okay." You nod reassuringly. Why is there so much care in your eyes?

"You're sure? I am not handsome." You just want him to let you in. So desperately.

"I promise."

I'm so sorry for writing such short chapters but I need these two to get down and dirty rn💕

[thedovesaredying]

Co-Parenting | Ex-Husband!Nikto x F!Reader

You're finally stepping back into the world of dating, with your first official date since divorcing your husband, Nikto. It seems simple enough in theory, but suddenly having the fur baby the two of you co-parent dumped on you causes some issues.

A/N: Okay, some of y'all wanted a continuation of this with ex-husband Nikto, so I have come to deliver you some more food. This one is more of a Sputnik centric chapter than a Nikto one, but he does make an appearance. Also RIP Nathan, you didn't deserve any of this lmao.

Warnings: Mild Gore, Nikto's Possessive Ass.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Prev | Next

You have to admit it. 

You look damn good tonight.  

A light touch of makeup, some of your nicer jewellery, and a cute, flowy dress in one of your favourite prints. You give a quick twirl, feeling your confidence return with every passing second you view yourself in the mirror. It’s been a long time since your last date with someone other than your ex-husband, so nerves have been slowly eating you alive, pulling apart your confidence at the seams.  

Nathan is a sweet enough man, always kind and respectful toward you. Normally, you wouldn’t invite a man back to your home on a first date, but the two of you have been meeting for coffee for weeks now, so you’re willing to take the risk. He’s even agreed to pick up dinner and drinks for you so you don’t have to worry about getting anything yourself.  

It feels weird to be thinking about a man other than your previous husband in a romantic way, but you’re determined to push past that discomfort. You can’t just continue to be hung up on your ex-husband for the rest of your life, you need to learn to move on, regardless of how difficult that may be.  

A knock on the door startles you from your thoughts and you hurriedly rush toward the front door. A glance at the clock informs you that it’s almost an hour before Nathan in due to arrive, so you’re a little confused as to who could be disturbing you so early in the evening. You pull the door open without bothering to check through the peephole and are immediately pounced on by a massive creature.  

Two large paws rest upon your shoulder and there’s hot breath being puffed directly into your face. You only barely stop yourself from falling over backwards, but you can’t be mad, not when you see Sputnik grinning at you with her massive smile. She cries loudly at you, trying desperately to lick at your face, despite your futile attempts at saving your poor makeup from the impending slobber.  

A harshly snapped out “ЛЕЖАТЬ!” thankfully has the hyena dropping back down to the floor before too much damage can be inflicted and draws your eyes to the voice’s owner. It’s more than a little frustrating that you feel your nerves settle the moment you spot Nikto behind Sputnik, his eyes slowly dragging over every inch of your body with very little effort to hide his rather obvious interest.  

“You are going out?” The question snaps you out of your brief moment of contemplation and back into the present. You ignore the question since, technically it isn’t any of his business, and telling him that you’re about to spend the evening with another man just feels... strange.  

“What are you two doing here? I thought I was picking up this big baby on Sunday?” Normally, you and Nikto go half and half with the custody of Sputnik – she's Nikto’s pet, obviously, but you know she tends to get stressed if she hasn’t seen you for a while, and you’re more than happy to take her when your ex-husband is on a mission that doesn’t lend itself to having such an animal present – however, you’re more than certain it’s not your time to take over her care.  

“да,” he agrees with a firm nod, “but we are being deployed last minute, she requires care while we are away,” he goes on to explain. “We apologise for the last minute notice, but the kennels on base will no longer accommodate her.” 

That much you do know. Something about Sputnik trying to bite one too many of the canine handlers for the crime of merely existing in their own workplace. She’s allowed to be on base while Nikto is there to control her or left in his quarters, but no longer are they willing to risk the limbs of their poor operatives while Nikto is abroad.  

Although you would normally be up for hyena-sitting, there is one major issue. While Sputnik is tolerant of your female friends, any man other than her precious daddy is considered untrustworthy scum that need to be torn to pieces. Especially, men that get close to you. An unknown male touching you is a crime punishable by death in the hyena’s eyes and you’re not entirely certain if she’s always felt that way or if it’s a trait she’s picked up from her owner.   

Before you can argue, however, Nikto’s phone starts ringing. He presses it to his cloth covered ear and listens to whoever is mumbling on the other end. You can see the subtle shift of his mouth under his balaclava, frowning in clear annoyance at whatever message he’s just received. He covers the phone’s microphone, offering only a quick, “we will be back soon,” before he’s dumping Sputnik’s blanket in your arms and near enough jogging away from your front door.  

You watch, stunned, as he pulls himself into the driver’s side of the car and practically floors it out of the quiet street. Clearly, there’s some kind of emergency he needs to deal with personally. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help fix your current predicament. Sputnik might currently be grinning up at you with an excited giggle, but you know for certain that her demeanour will change the moment poor Nathan arrives.  

Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a loud sigh, you call Sputnik inside, allowing her to sprint around the house. She has her snout pressed to the ground, inspecting the entire perimeter of the building’s interior with the sound of wet sniffing. You let her reacquaint herself with your house then call her into your once shared bedroom.  

Her blanket is spread out across the foot of the bed and immediately Sputnik leaps up so she can roll on the soft material. It’s the same blanket Nikto tends to have on his bed, so it smells strongly of the other man and the hyena is more than happy to try and spread the scent all over your bed.  

It seems you won’t be getting up to anything fun in the bedroom tonight.  

You try to stealthily sneak out the bedroom door without Sputnik noticing, but the moment you’re away from her side she’s lifting her head and looking toward you. “Stay Sputnik,” you say, holding up a hand and backing out of the door, slowly closing it behind you, “be a good girl for mum Sputnik, stay!” She tilts her head to the side like a confused puppy, but stays put, even when you pull the door all the way closed.  

Luckily, you still have a few minutes to touch you the makeup that was slightly smudged by your beloved fur child, before someone knocks on the door for the second time that evening. Before you can even get to the door, you can hear Sputnik's panicked cackling and snarling, accompanied by the sound of sharp claws raking down the wood of your bedroom door.  

You mentally run through the list of commands Nikto has previously taught you, then shout out a firm, “Tiho!” The pronunciation isn’t quite perfect, but Sputnik seems to get the gist of the command and quiets with one final whine.  

When you open the door this time, you’re relieved to find it is in fact Nathan this time. He’s come supplied with the takeout the two of you had agreed on and a nice bottle of wine to share. He thankfully doesn’t seem to have heard Sputnik, for he greets you normally and is happy to come inside and relinquish the food to you at your insistence.  

Serving up the food and wine is a quick process and the two of you are seated on the couch in no time, both happily munching away while some sappy romance film plays in the background. You’re almost able to completely relax and enjoy the evening, chatting about nothing in particular and giggling whenever you’re complimented. You can hear an odd grinding sound in the background, but decide to ignore it since Sputnik hasn’t made a peep otherwise.  

It’s only after the two of you have finished eating that you realise your mistake. After just enough alcohol to get a light buzz and feeling rather relaxed, the night has progressed to you laying on your back on the couch with Nathan settled above you. He’s sat straddling your lap, leant over so the two of you can exchange slow, explorative kisses. Everything seems perfect... until you hear a familiar snarl.  

Your head whips around to see the massive hyena stood in your living room. Her lips are peeled back in an ugly snarl, displaying her huge teeth covered in drool. That’s all you get to see before she’s lunging, grabbing a hold of Nathan’s arm. His screams, filled with panic and pain are terrible, but what’s worse is the sound of bone splintering.  

Sputnik yanks her head back, easily pulling the man off of you and onto the floor. “Sputnik! Fu! Fu!” you quickly shout, shooting up to your feet. The hyena gives you a slightly confused look, tilting her head to the side again as if she doesn’t still have poor Nathan’s arm firmly held between her iron jaws.  

One final command of “drop it!” has her reluctantly releasing her hold. You grab her collar, heaving her muscular body away from Nathan, but the man is already on his feet, making his way for the door. He ignores it when you shout after him, not that you can blame the man. Nor can you blame him for slamming the door closed on his way out and not looking back.  

Sputnik looks up at you with a bright grin, clearly very pleased with herself for “saving you” from the big, nasty man. She leans her snout against your stomach with a self-satisfied huff, and you mourn your poor dress now covered in blood. You really need Nikto to teach you his release command.  

On further investigation, you’re unsurprised to find the large hole gnawed into the bottom of your bedroom door and the corner of the wall. You’re equally as unsurprised when you find Nathan has blocked your phone number.  

When Nikto appears the following day, you’re forced to explain what happened the previous evening. He assures you it won’t be an issue and that Nathan won’t be calling animal control on either of you. You try to ask him how he knows that so certainly, but he simply tells you to leave all the worrying to him. At least he offers to spend the day fixing your wall and door, perhaps the only good thing to come out of all this.

-

Back on base Nikto is greeted by Krueger in their shared rec room. The Austrian eyes Nikto and Sputnik for a moment before asking, “the operation went smoothly?” 

Nikto provides a snort, “да, our mission was a success, yes Sputnik?” he asks, watching as the hyena offers her own pleased snort. “She has protected our girl, just as planned, and that pathetic,” he spits the word, “excuse for a man will stay far away from what is ours.”  

Krueger simply rolls his eyes, “scary fucker.”  

[grey-cyrus]

✦Nikto Bear Hybrid Pt. 3

TW: Mentions of Dying, Kidnapping, Branding, Knifes, Choking, Cuts, Biting, Blood as well as mental instability.

The door closing behind you sealed your fate, you were doomed. Doomed to be his forever, to engage in his sick fantasies. The thought left a metallic taste in your mouth— Wait. That’s the blood from the constant chewing of your cheek, a habit you developed when under the pressure of several injured soldiers piling into the med-bay with no assistance on the days you were short-staffed.

He clicked the lock, strutting over to a chair with you on his shoulder, an arrogant confidence that honestly made you wanna throat punch him. And if you had on your acrylic nails, the ones that the army had forbidden you from wearing, you would’ve gouged his eyeballs out.

He let out a quiet, breathy laugh of amusement. What could’ve been just so funny in this moment? “You’re adorable when you glare, little heifer.” Of course that’s what this fucker’s laughing about. He must find humor in annoying you, making you wanna pull your brains out so you wouldn’t have a consciousness to put up with his teasing.

He pulled out a chair from his bare desk in the corner, sitting you down on it. You strained against the ropes, trying to be as defiant as possible. In hopes he would maybe get tired of your disobedience, besides, most guys hate brats and aren’t willing to tame them. You were honestly over this, the fear long gone and replaced with a burning anger that sent a wave of tingles from your feet to the ends of your roots.

He walked around you in circles, like a predator getting ready to pounce his meal. “My girl has such pretty, untouched skin. All mine to taint with the blood of my ruin.” Without hesitation his hands landed on your upper arms, holding you steady as if your hands tied behind your back weren’t already enough of a restraint. He pulled his mask up just enough for you to get a glimpse of disfigurement, it would turn anyone else’s stomach who hadn’t see the horror’s of war. Soldier’s arms ripped off, gang-green set up on blown off legs, and that was just the start. His jaw cocked back and before you knew it, his sharp fanged bear teeth were deep in your collar bone.

You let out an ear-shattering scream, pain coursing through your body in waves. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, the world felt hazy. Mind spinning as your blood seeped down your shoulder and onto your favorite scrubs. You could’ve sworn the bite lasted a good five minutes, but in reality it was only thirty seconds.

His teeth finally came off your abused shoulder, blood smeared on his lips. Dripping down his chin and onto his neck, an almost sexual view from your eyes gazing up at the six-foot-one man with anguish and bile. You weren’t exactly four-foot-nine, but you also weren’t above five-foot-six. Which still made you significantly shorter than him, if anything it was just another one of your weaknesses. You were strong as a cow hybrid, but not strong enough to take down a bear who could probably lift a semi-truck no problem. Okay, that might be an exaggeration but the point still stands!

He licked the blood from his lips, his hand grabbing your jaw and giving you a harsh short-lived shake before getting in your ear. Whispering in a low, gravelly Russian accent. “You shouldn’t have been such a brat. You should watch your mouth, or I’ll cut your tongue out.”

A shiver went up your spine, you knew he was being truthful. And you didn’t wanna experience the consequences of your actions. So you kept your eyes forward, not daring to look at him. You heard a click but didn’t gaze at the sound of your interest. Sweat beads forming even faster on your already dampened skin, if you weren’t about to piss yourself before you sure as hell were now.

You felt something cold touch your shoulder, your cow tail wrapping tightly around the stile of the wooden chair. Trembling, to the point your teeth were chattering.

He could hear your jittering teeth, and it drew a deep chuckle from his chest. “Shh, it’s okay, my little girl. It’ll only hurt for a second.” Huh? What does he mean it’ll only hurt a little?

As the sting of a military-grade knife caressed right below your left hip, you finally understood what he meant. He was branding you, staking his claim on you before some useless bastard got his little heifer.

“S— Stop! Please— Please, it hurts!”

He ignored your pleas, grabbing your throat. Squeezing your trachea closed, cutting your oxygen supply off completely. He wasn’t the slow, gentle ease-into-it guy when he was fed up. He wasn’t wanting to tease you, he was punishing you. The knife dragging deeper into you as you let out a gargled noise of pain, the only sound you could make with his hand around your throat.

“That’s it, baby. Take it, fucking take it.”

He dug the knife into the dermis layer, not just your fleshy cover anymore. Your world started growing black spots, the pain so intense you couldn’t move. Eyes clamped shut, as you tried to control your breathing. As if that would focus your mind anywhere else from the throbbing pain of his blade in your skin.

Finally, after careful craftsmanship, his work was done. You could feel the melee knife slip out, a sigh of relief would’ve escaped your lips if you could breathe. You were almost turning purple, but he was standing there just admiring his work.

The words ‘Nikto’ with his famous chest plate identification right below it. ‘MP-0’

You were on the verge of passing out as he looked at you with a smug expression, you couldn’t see his face but you just knew his disgusting face was grinning from ear to ear. He finally gave one extra hard squeeze, vision going black. And like that, you were—

Dead.

—To Be Continued—

Master-list

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[mariamakeslemons]

Kinktober 2024: Day 5 Rough sex/Bondage

Warning: Possibly badly translated Russian (if I need to fix it, please let me know), weird interpretation of DID (as always seem to do with Nikto, I apologize), Reader is AFAB, mild mention of blood and overly enthusiastic sex to the point of hurting a partner

Nikto knows that they have been lucky to have you as their лисичка, but this is too much. They don’t deserve this trust you give them so easily. You let him tie you to the bed, cover your eyes with a blindfold, and leave you naked against the covers. So vulnerable and all for him. Them. He is bare as well, the first time before you despite your lack of sight. His skin finally touching your skin, watching as you jolt and arch into even the lightest of pressure. His pretty one, their sweet love.

“Я тебя люблю. Моя драгоценная любовь, я убью ради тебя. Мы умрем за тебя. Мое любимое сокровище*,” Nikto rambles, breathing in the scent of your skin. You shudder under the words of affection, of love and lust that stream from his mouth, out of their mind.

“Baby,” you breathe, tilting your head just so. Nikto leans forward, devouring your mouth as their scarred hand slides down to press into your wet heat. You drive them insane, more so than he already is. Usually, the others tell him to hurt, to kill, to rip and destroy everything that would stand before him. But, looking at you, the most malicious request is slapping your ass or biting you to leave a mark. Your death is not wanted.

“Love,” he finally replies, stretching your cunt for his cock. You whine and Nikto shudders at the sound, giving in to the voices again to dig his teeth into your shoulder. The gasp you let out is delicious, it makes their mouth water and long to hear more. So, Nikto nips down your body, taking care to lap at the scars and stretchmarks that cover your body so beautifully. His fingers dig into whatever body part he can, his teeth leaving behind angry marks that blossom against your skin. Nikto pulls back and licks his teeth, his tongue briefly meeting the air because of the rip in his lips.

“Love,” they repeat, “More.”

“Then take it,” you offer, baring your throat to him while spreading your legs in invitation. Nikto growls and clamors over your legs, lining up his cock to your pretty pussy, before pressing in. The moan you let out is delightful, all the better to whet his hunger for you. He doesn’t even wait for you to adjust to the size, just thrusting into your sweet pussy like a man possessed. Their teeth find your shoulder, digging desperately into your flesh, hard enough that red wells up and they lap at it. Nectar from the Gods, through their blessed vessel, to the unworthy sinner.

“Fuck,” you whine so prettily, squirming and pressing against him, “More, Nikto. More, Baby.”

“As you command,” Nikto replies, fucking into your wet warmth with all the strength they’re willing to put you through. A little pain is okay, a reminder that you aren’t a holy being, but they never want you hurt in a way they can’t soothe. Your reaction to that little pain is beautiful, too. Arching into his thrusts, moaning with each squeeze of your hips, even stretching your neck out to entice them to wrap their hand around your pretty throat. He complies and you moan. You, who he revers as one who is unsullied by the sin they are drenched in, moan as they hold your life in his hands. Nikto cums with a snarl, refusing to pull out as he continues to rut into your pussy, overstimulating himself.

“Good,” he wheezes, pleadingly, “I’m good.”

“You are,” you choke out sweetly, “So good. Such a good boy.” Nikto groans, fucking you as hard as he can, his brain finally silent from that first release. There is no they, just him in this shamble of a body. Salvation in your pussy, holy sacrament from your lips. You finally cum and he shivers, almost wishing that he came later. To have cum with you would have been heaven. But now, Nikto pulls back and looks at your body carefully. Bruises litter your skin, the bleeding bitemark slowly dripping red on your skin.

“Baby, can you cut me free?” you ask softly. A blade is in his hand immediately, slicing through the ropes easily. Nikto watches as you lower your hands, rolling them carefully to get better blood flow, but you don’t remove the blindfold. You smile and reach toward where you think he is, requesting, “Can I kiss you on the lips?”

“Да,” he breathes, leaning down and kissing you properly for the first time. So many times have you pressed you lips to his mask, and he longed to feel your skin on his. He pulls back and blinks, before trying to copy something you’ve done to him before, peppering your lovely face with kisses. You laugh at his attempt, but bare your face for him, only to pause.

“Wait, shit,” you hiss, making Nikto pull back. He sees that the blindfold has fallen, but your eyes are still closed, still allowing him to hide. You huff, “The blindfold fell. Give it back and I’ll retie it.”

“…Нет,” Nikto decides. You freeze, your eyes still closed even in your confusion. Nikto delicately cradles your face, and breathes, “I see you. Now, you see me.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, so sweet. Nikto grunts in affirmative and watches as your eyes flutter open. He waits for the recoil, for the damnation. Part of his mouth is sliced open to expose his gums and teeth even when his mouth is closed, burns crawl along half his face and barely spare his eye, half his hair is thinner and lighter than the other. The unburned part of his face is scarred up and it trails down his body. The others return with a vengeance, hissing that you will reject him, them. But, again, you prove holy.

“Fuck, now I know why you keep a mask on,” you whisper, your smile shrinking but still real, “Too damn handsome. I’d be beating people back with a stick.”

“Once, maybe,” Nikto tries to argue, even as a warmth fills them at your acceptance. You hum and gently cup his face, checking that it’s okay before pulling him back down for another kiss. There are still things to do, like get you ointment for the bruises along your body and antiseptic for the bite. But, Nikto will relish in this moment, recalling this on the field to remind that you are waiting at the apartment. A home for them to return to, for the first time he can remember.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

*I love you. My precious love, I will kill for you. We will die for you. My beloved treasure

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You know, all I want is to spend some time with Nikto on his off-days and have him read Dostoyevski to me, if you don't want to make this like a single fic you can maybe incorporate it into "ravishing allure" some time later 🥹

"…and there can be no love otherwise."

PAIRINGS: Nikto x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: If anyone could make the bad days better, it was Nikto.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

WARNINGS: Stress from work/life, lack of sleep, mostly fluff, comfort, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There were times you wondered if putting up with your job was really worth it. Sure, you needed the money to pay rent, food, and bills, among a laundry list of others that just seemed to never end, but was the cost of your sleep the metaphorical soul you had to hand over? 

Every day you came home tired to your little apartment—neighbors loud and the light in the bathroom flickering because the electrician had never shown up to fix it. Tired, but unable to fall asleep until everything else was done. So, you’d make dinner, clean, shower, sit down to mindlessly watch a show on TV for half an hour, and then stumble into bed. 

Only to stay awake and stare at the ceiling. 

You can’t say why you do it, thinking over the things you did wrong and the awkward conversations you have with coworkers; you shouldn’t care about it—really, you shouldn't. Yet you can’t stop your brain from slipping like a slide to every instance, every millisecond where you felt the air of the interaction change. Side-eyes and confused looks. 

And then at six o’clock, you’d drag yourself out of bed with bags on your face and a drained expression to do it all over again. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” 

“Oh, of course, we have some in the back—I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thank you! You have a good day now, Sir. Come back soon.”

It just felt fake. Greet, help, take money, wave and smile, repeat, repeat, repeat. But maybe today would be slightly different, by the second pair of shoes that were placed in your apartment entry as you slowly opened the front door. 

Boots—black and set an equal distance apart with a cleaned surface despite the places they’d been and what they’d probably stepped through. They were neatly situated under the small bench you had for convenience, and you blink at them as you softly shut the door and lock it. A large, and matching in color, jacket was folded and placed atop the flat surface—keys sitting in an indent. 

Nikto, ever the neat and tidy one. He must be back then. 

While the two of you didn’t live together, the bear of a man had made a habit of coming over when he returned from deployments with KorTac—you’d given him a key the second year you’d been together. 

Your ears faintly twitch to the sound of cooking, nose moving just a second later to the scent of something on the stove. Clinking pans and silent footsteps. He knew you were here, sure as anything. Weakly sighing, you shift out of your jacket and shoes; tossing them in the general direction of the bench as you rub at your eyes and drop your purse to the floor with a slap of canvas. 

How do you explain looking like shit? 

Shuffling into the kitchen, you undo some of the buttons on your blouse to let yourself breathe, dress pants running along the carpet as your feet pad like a hound’s slapping paws. Vision blurry and eyelids threatening to close on you, you find the tall man in front of the stove, moving something in a pan with sizzling oils with the wide flex of his shoulders.

On another burner, there’s a large pot of simmering water—the counter has already been cleaned up of flour and mess, a tidy pile of dirty items sitting in the sink to be washed. You stare for a second before you grumble a hello, forcing your body to sag into his back as you walk over and slap your forehead into his spine. 

Nikto grunts lowly in response and continues what he’s doing. 

While it wasn’t rare to find him in the kitchen—in fact, you prefer it when he cooks—but usually when he got back you opted to order supper. He always insisted, gruffly, that he wasn’t tired, but you just wanted him to relax.

It was fun to baby him. 

“Didn’t know you were going to be back today,” you whisper into him, arms hanging by your sides. 

“We were released early,” his voice is deep and harsh—a bark of his Russian accent and rasp. Every word is thought out and said with purpose. “Conflict in schedule.”

You hum lowly, and it’s immediately after that Nikto stiffens, back going straighter. It’s the fact that you don’t even notice that you’ve completely screwed up your own routine that tips him off; how your change in pace had made him initially suspicious as he’d heard you enter the apartment. 

You hadn't commented on his eyes. Hadn’t tried to get him to turn around to see them. 

There was a running gag that Nikto tolerated—you’d grab him carefully by the chin and tilt his blank eyes to you in all of their icy glory. Sparks of glass and chilled storms inlay near the pupils. You’d stare, smile, and then say, “Yup, he’s still in there.” 

Even if you couldn’t see it under his balaclava, Nikto’s lips would part and he’d study your face for a minute in silence, before lightly bonking his forehead to yours. A strange and unique kiss that only he could perfect in his intimidating way. 

You hadn’t even attempted that. 

Nikto puts down the fork he was using to push around the fried potatoes and mushrooms; Pelmeni still simmering in the pot for another five minutes. The cut-up dill and melted butter on the counter are pushed from his mind with a purpose in his veins.

“What is wrong with you?” Nikto turns and you stifle a fatigued snort as you look up at him. It wasn’t his fault, of course. English isn’t his first language, and you found his broken, or sometimes bare-bones blunt, sentences to be endearing.

“Such a way with words, hm?” You can’t help but tease, and you can see the annoyed furrow of his brown brows, nose huffing a breath. “Just tired, Nikto.” Your words make his gaze slide along the very visible bags and the red veins of your eyes. 

He mutters something in Russian under his breath, lids narrowing on you as he grasps your shoulders and moves you back so he can look you up and down slowly in a near clinical breakdown of atoms. As if he can peel back clothes and splay nerves to light. 

“You look horrible…Sickly.” You can see the brain working as your lips go into a line to stay off your loud laugh. “Like dead woman walking.”

He was so much better with actions than words, this beast of wide shoulders and shifting thighs that could crush your bones to dust in an instant. You liked that about him—you never had to guess when he was being genuine or not.

“Work’s been rough,” you chuckle lowly, sliding on a fake smile that doesn’t fool him for a second. “Nothing I can’t…figure out, okay? Thanks for making supper, I love when you cook.”

Nikto’s eyes soften just a smidge, his hands holding your flesh just the littlest bit tighter. His expansive chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh, the bulk of his stomach and pecs visible under the tucked black t-shirt and his spare cargo pants.

Without a word, you’re being lifted with little more than a huff of, “моя нежная девочка… keep awake.”

You squeak as you’re settled onto his shoulder, hanging off like a sack of grain as his arm wraps over the top of your tailbone—large other hand on your thigh and fingers firmly grasping your skin. 

“Nikto—!”

“Hush,” he grunts, a bark of a chuckle wafting out as your hand playfully hits his back with a pathetic slap. The man raises a brow, smirking under his face covering. “What do you expect to do with that, girl?” 

“To let you know,” you poke at his spine and he shifts your farther down his shoulder in retaliation as you scramble and grasp at his shirt; giggling as your head sways to his steps. “That I won't go quietly!” 

“Good to know,” he grumbles. “I would want nothing less, eh?” 

His hands make sure that you don’t fall, even if you were to start wiggling or slipping.

You go limp and let him carry you into the living room, face burning with appreciation as your limbs let themselves rest. Nikto slings you back over his shoulder and drops you to the couch as you laugh, head purposely hitting the pillow as your chest rises and falls with breaths. 

The man stares down at you as you chuckle in gasps, always one to stare at any chance he gets. His arms crossed at his chest, feet apart, and shadow slipping over you from the overhead light. You gaze up silently, a smile on your lips, and quizzically raise to your brow.

“Stay,” is what he says to you, icy vision sliding down your body with a hum of approval. He sends a teasing slap to your thigh before striding back into the kitchen, narrowly missing your leg kicking out at his arse. 

Nikto scoffs at your attempt and disappears.

Normally you’d run at him and jump on his back, hanging off like an animal, but being as fatigued as you are, you call a mumbled curse at his name and curl sideways. Your face nuzzles into the pillow, smiling lightly before you let your eyes momentarily close.

You must have taken a quick nap because it seemed not even a second later that you were being shaken awake by a hand on your arm; spreading up to run over your cheek as your lashes flutter. “Милая.” You sigh, vision blurry and your head pounding. A strong scent hits your nose and you perk—rubbing at your eyes and face. “Eat.”

A plate of fried potatoes with mushrooms and another bowl of Pelmeni are on the coffee table, and the former is shoved into your face by a strong hand, the small dumplings topped with melted butter and dill. 

“Pelmeni,” Nikto states in a monotone, blinking at you as if you don’t know his own culture’s food by now. He made them often enough, which was why you liked him so much—food was truly the way to your love.

You’d taken up baking some of Nikto’s favorite desserts once, had failed horribly, and left most of the kitchen work to him—but the funny thing was that whenever you did bake, the man still always cleaned his plate. You’d never seen him turn down your food, even when you could see his eyes scrunch with restrained aversion.

“Да,” he would grunt out, “good.” It was so strained you always laughed so hard your lungs hurt after. On the off-hand, Nikto’s skills in the kitchen were enough to get you to sell your car for just another bite. 

Sitting up, you carefully take the bowl and look up at him, smiling deeply. 

“Thank you, Nik.” The man hums and turns his head away, still unused to outright affection even two years in. “Nikto~” you draw out his name, tilting your head to the side and trying to catch his gaze again. 

“Silence, woman,” he growls with no real heat, huffing before carefully placing his forehead to yours again as you expected him to. You giggle and stare into his eyes smugly. 

You knew what he was waiting for. Your blood runs hot, face going into a picture of care. His blues blink at you as snowflakes mingle with mist; a mix of cold and desolate landscapes that offer no reprieve from harm besides the small glint of fire they gain when they lock with yours. 

“Yup,” you whisper, and Nikto’s shoulders loosen as he presses more deeply into your skin. “He’s still in there.” 

He stares intensely, and the faintest of twitches under his balaclava tell you all you need to know. 

Nikto makes sure you eat your fill and when you’re done he takes the dishes and washes them while you shower and get into pajamas. Sluggish, but warmed by a full stomach and your boyfriend’s care. You come out to find he’s already reclining on the couch, book in hand as the other bends behind his neck. Lights were low and the heat turned up. Nikto opens his side to you and your body snuggles next to him—it had taken a long time to earn his trust like this; to be near him and to freely give affection.

It would be longer still until you saw his face, but you can live with that. There was no rush, and you knew it was a large soft spot even if he’d never shared the details as to why.

You sigh deeply and Nikto grunts, moving his arm behind your back and keeping you to his chest as he reads. 

This is a common sight from him, and he begins reading to you in his mother tongue from the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, the grit and gravel of his voice sliding into words and sensations as you practically feel it coming from his chest and throat. Your head situates itself under his chin, feeling his free hand playing with your hair until you go brain-dead except to the way he feels and sounds. Harsh words had never been more gentle.

Halfway through he switches to English, his sentences now more slow and thought out and your lashes flutter; breath soft as you take in his scent of oakmoss and amber. His heart beats steady and true. 

“‘To love is to suffer,’” he reads, fingers rubbing circles into your clothes and letting you sleep as the day grows faster into a cold night. He glances down with easy eyes, gripping you just a bit closer as your body entirely goes limp in his embrace. “‘...And there can be no love otherwise.’” 

He silences himself and watches for a moment before he closes the book, dropping it silently to the coffee table and staring past you at the ceiling. The man feels your warmth bleed into his scarred and damaged skin and whispers something akin to vindication.

Nikto listens to your steady breathing and holds you. Steady. Noiseless. 

He grunts to himself and only presses you closer.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[elysiadjarin]

home is where you are (Nikto x f!reader)

Crawling out of the woodwork on this one I’m aware haha, life has absolutely drained me of any creativity and I’m trying to force myself to get back into writing. Anyway, it’s nbd here cod fandom have a bone.

Tags: smut, f!reader, cunnilingus, sex, nothing super out there or weird, pretty soft, mostly prose

Coming home to you is something Nikto does with a feeling of heavy relief.

He appears in the bedroom doorway like a silent specter, shadow looming over the doorstep. His bag is left by the front door, his boots already shed, his ice blue eyes fixing on you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. He strides across the room, and his broad hands wrap around your waist as he tips you back against the bed. His hands are already pushing under your shirt, grasping at the waist of your shorts as he tugs them off with the confidence of man who knows he’s handling something that’s irrevocably his.

He doesn’t say a single word. He doesn’t need to. You don’t push away, even if your hands fly to grasp at the pillow he’s made sure your head lands on when he lays you back. His hands twist in your panties, snapping them clean off with hardly any effort before his palms are smoothing up the bare flesh of your thighs. He absently tosses his mask in the direction of the bedside table, dragging your hips closer.

His mouth opens over your pussy with the same desperation of a parched man reaching for ice cold water. He drinks from you, the soundtrack of your gasps and soft moans like a favorite song after a long day. You taste familiar, heavenly, absolutely blissful— he kisses the wet folds like the fizz of you on his tongue is a celebratory welcome-home toast. His tongue delves in deeper, rasping over your clit, and he sinks into the motions until you’re whimpering his name and your quivering pussy is feeding him the way he’s been craving the entire time he’s been away.

You’re his reason to come back home, his every spare thought between missions, and the one thing he craves more than anything else. You’re the everything to his nothing, and his name spilling from your lips is a hymn of paradise from the angels above. Nikto loves his wife— he doesn’t need to tell you that for you to know it with every single look he gives and action he takes the moment he’s back with you.

By the time you’re shaking with overstimulation and practically sobbing from how many times he’s made you gush into his mouth with orgasms, he’s practically pussy-drunk and slurping at your puffy cunt. He drinks in your slick, the sight of your expressions, the sound of your voice. He’s so thirsty, starving for you, and you always feed him so well. So sweet and soft for him, all for him, just for him.

He finally decides to take some kind of mercy on you, crawling up and pinning you to the bed underneath him with his weight. He catches your lips in a kiss, and it tells you everything he hasn’t spoken aloud. His lips still taste of you, his tongue sliding between your lips and drinking in every single moan and sound you offer. Your hands grasp at him, your body trembling as you press into him so sweet and pliant; and he feels like he’s absolutely drowning in you despite his body being the one engulfing and surrounding yours.

Nikto is always hungry for you. Ever since the first kiss you’ve granted him— he’s been obsessed, starved, addicted. You’re soft in the ways he never thought he deserved, and he has no intentions of letting you go.