#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."

[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.

[paradlselost]

⠀ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ILYSFM ۶ৎ

UPCOMING FANFICTIONS INSPIRED BY THE GLASS ANIMALS ALBUM OF THE SAME NAME ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

SHOW PONY — hughie campbell ; the boys . “ it’s how the story goes , ramen on your own . waiting by the phone , lipstick on the coat . waiting by the door , you live in his clothes - you would make a joke that you had none of your own . ”

WONDERFUL NOTHING — nikto ; call of duty . “ say ‘ i might throw up ’ i’d say ‘ burn in hell ’ but they’d hate you too . in my mind i’m annotating you . did your mom tell you to ‘ close it ’ when you chew ? ”

A TEAR IN SPACE — billy lenz ; black christmas “ i climb into your walls , i’m where the spiders go . i’m here but you aren’t sure . what are you waiting for ? stretch me like leather rope , make me invisible . ”

HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE THE BOMB — dean winchester ; supernatural “ split like a thunderstruck tree trunk or maybe the splits in your knuckles . split in the lip that you lick too much . ”

WHITE ROSES — victoria nueman ; the boys “ one day you’ll move on , put me in a drawer . I’ll just be a ghost in the photos on your phone . and you’ll see a sunny side , shows i never liked , you can put them on , put the clap track in your life . ”

ON THE RUN — john seed ; far cry 5 “ it all seems smaller so far away and i miss that noise you make when you sleep . i turn back - now my scars and my stains - and i’m back before you know i escaped . ”

LOST IN THE OCEAN — gale dekarios ; baldurs gate “ fog on the glass where i drew something . up comes the water , can’t see the coast , my heart is dragging on the ocean floor . laughing and crying , staring at my lunch . i wanna scream at the top of my lungs . ”

[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

[syoddeye]

spooky fic recs 🍁🎃

i'm in the mood to spread some love and appreciation for some of the spooky, scary, and downright bone-chilling fics/drabbles/concepts i've enjoyed lately. not a fan of scary or dark stuff? i've got cozy recs, too.

no longer updating

as usual:

beyond the cut, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries. this list contains darkfic.

some fics are in progress, so keep in mind that warnings and tags may change.

organized by pairing if applicable.

i've checked all the links, but if they're broken, i blame tumblr. i've included enough info to find the fic if need be.

do not harass authors. i will find you.

price x reader

The Shining with Price by @ghouljams | f!Reader

Are You Lonely? by @/ghouljams | f!Reader

Golden cage by @yeyinde | f!Reader

Bondage Cabinet Thoughts by @391780 | f!Reader

Deranged Price and Period Sex by @/391780 | f!Reader

Deranged Father Price by @/391780 | f!Reader

Superstitious by @dozeydaisy | f!Reader

Laying Claim by @glossysoap | f!Reader

A Hole in the Earth by @cordeliawhohung | f!Reader

Retirement Party by @sentientcave | f!Reader/OC

ghost x reader

Dogmeat Series by @/yeyinde | f!Reader

Hound Dog by @ceilidho | f!Reader

Slasher Handler Series by @dragonnarrative-writes | f!Reader

In Limbo by @/cordeliawhohung | f!Reader

A Fox Cries; Never Howls by @/cordeliawhohung | f!Reader

Who To Call by @bi-writes | f!Reader

Southpaw by @bitterrfruit

gaz x reader

Guardian Angel by @/391780 | f!Reader

Access Road #46 by @pricegouge | gn!Reader

Fear of God by @ceilidho | f!Reader

soap x reader

Serial Killer Soap by @kaadaaan | f!Reader

Soap and his Therapist by @/ceilidho | f!Reader

Bitch by @/glossysoap | f!Reader

Keep Crying, Pup by @/glossysoap | f!Reader

Marrying Johnny by @stellewriites | f!Reader

No Second Location by @auspicioustidings | f!Reader

Still Wakes the Deep AU by @bi-writes & @ceilidho | f!Reader

141 x reader

SCP-141 series by @/ghouljams | various researchers

Haul by @pricegouge | f!Reader

COD Outlast AU, Price POV by @/pricegouge | f!Reader

Doppleganger 141 concept by @/pricegouge

Fancy by @swordsandholly | f!Reader

other pairings

Restoration Worship by @dutiful-wildcraft | Nikolai x f!Reader

Alone, Together by @/pricegouge | Alone x m!Reader

Outlast AU with Soap and Ghost by @/dutiful-wildcraft | Soap, Ghost, and f!Reader

Unfamiliar Nobody by @charliemwrites | Nikto x f!Reader

Scrap Metal Muzzle by @/391780 | Ghoap x f!Reader

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit by @/cordeliawhohung | Ghoap x f!Reader

Bury Me Under the Basswood Tree by @alnilaem | Ghoap x f!Reader

Detective MacTavish by @/alnilaem | Ghoap x f!Reader

The Crypt series by @peachesofteal | Multiple

that's fall, folks! 🍂 banner by @/cafekitsune

[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

[mossygirl333]

Crême Brûlée and lavender tea for Nikto please? 👁️

AN: @/cafekitsune for the wonderful dividers and low-key kinda bad ending but I've been struggling to write recently

Bakery Order: Crême Brûlée- “shhh, wouldn’t want them to hear would you?” + Lavender Tea- Somnophilia

Nikto x F!soldier!reader

TW/CW: DUBCON, slight stalking, somno, lots of whimpering, soft sleepy sex, reader is described as short-tempered, relationship spoke upon: fwb?, I've never written Abt nikto or read much fanfic for him so I did a tad bit of research so I didn't mess this up (I know he has DID from what I read? So I made him use plurals like us instead of me)

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

Nikto watched as you slept. It was almost a daily occurrence nowadays, sneaking into your dorm room. He couldn't exactly help himself, your lips parted, eyes shut. Head tilted back into white soft pillows, half buried in your warm blankets.

You never woke up when he watched you, desperate to reach out and touch warm skin. You'd never let him be sweet with you if you were awake. A hot-headed stubborn soldier, you didn't need kindness or warmth or love. Quick fucks in the bathroom and that was the most of your relationship.

But when you were asleep...oh how he loved you when you were asleep. The anger and tension gone, you looked young. You had such pretty features too, he just couldn't help himself.

Shifting around, you pushed the covers off of you, rolling over onto your stomach. Prone, he could work with that.

Your eyes open immediately, feeling someone on top of you. You open your mouth but it's covered by a warm hand. A memory flashed in your mind when you finally smelled him and heard his voice.

"Shh...don't want them to hear would you?" He whispers against your ear, puffs of warm air sending tingles down your spine. Resting your chin on the pillow below you, you felt your legs spread. Sleep shorts pulled down and kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

"Nik-" Your eyes flutter, bleary. Your muscles felt weak, pliable under his rough paws. Gripping and squeezing at any fat he could find.

"Let us take care of you." He interrupts. You closed your eyes, feeling his cock twitch against your bare thigh, a streak of precum left behind.

Your hands ball up, feeling his tip bump against your clit. Sliding through your folds, weak whimpers buried into the fabric.

His chest rests against your back, heavy on top of you, his hands collecting your wrists and pining them above you.

Your mouth got dry, breathing heavily as he settles into your heat, breathing you in. "You're so pretty f'me...when you sleep..."

It would've freaked you out, if he wasn't being so soft about it. So sweet. Settling into you, twitching and throbbing. Laying there so peacefully with his head tucked into your shoulder.

You whine, bucking your hips back against him, wanting some sort of friction. An ache settling between your legs.

His hands rest heavy on your hips, eyes fluttering as he lazily starts to grind, slow in and outs. Awkward pauses where he practically fell asleep. Tiny high-pitched hiccups leaving your lips, clawing slightly at the blankets. Your chest felt tight, like you couldn't get enough oxygen. Head swimming, your nose overwhelmed with the smell of him.

Eyes flutter closed as you melt into the bed, you could finish this later. He's already asleep, warm and comforted by the steady throbbing. Curled up around your form.

Soft and sweet~

[kyumisyumi]

Something something something eldritch Nikto something something something

I've sifted through so many ideas for this because I didn't wanna just pick a random eldritch creature from my box of horrors and slap Nikto's name on it. But also I don't feel like I have enough info about him(ironic, considering I write about him so much) to craft him into a creature. I watched some documentaries on eldritch horrors, dived into Russian cryptids and still drew blanks but here's what I managed

Rating: E for everyone who loves Nikto

Eldritch!Nikto x F!Reader

Word count: 1

Part 2

~Taking requests~

You weren't running from the consequences of your actions, more like briskly walking in the opposite directions. Looking forward all the way because backwards held the sounds of large dogs and angry men. Their boots cracking every twig and foliage along the way, voices interrupting the once peaceful ambiance of the woods. You could hardly tell whether the growling was from the hounds or the men. And really, who wouldn't want to run away from such a thing? Not run; walk. Quickly, very quickly. You were being smart, not cowardly.

No, never that.

You weren't cowardly when you snuck into that guardsman's post. You weren't cowardly when you tried to steal the gold he confiscated from the Miller's wife, the only woman that kept you fed while the streets were your home. You weren't cowardly when you defended yourself once he caught you. And you weren't cowardly when you accidentally bashed his head in with a clay pot. He should've worn a helmet, really. A guard should always have their helmet on! What was he thinking? Now look at you, running for your life and deluding yourself as if it would change the actions of the past.

Running.

You ran your mouth, ran your mind, but no matter how fast you moved, you couldn't outrun hunting dogs. Your fault, really, for trying to do so while wearing the long, ugly skirt you stole from someone's unattended clothesline. You should've maybe stolen the guard's old pants, you knew he had some because he mentioned wanting to give them to his nephew who was in combat training. Instead you dashed out the home the moment you realized he wasn't breathing, panicked by your first time taking a life. What were you thinking?

"I wasn't-" you spat a thick glob of blood out your mouth, it's red color staining the putrid black floor. Tears staining your vision and pain plaguing your mind. "I didn't mean to." You said it over and over again but it was little defense against men who'd lost a comrade because of you. A good man. A good man who stole from widows and bullied the elderly? It's weird how two people can look at the same person but see someone different. But that train of thought was halted by a kick to your stomach. And when one of the men took the final hit, the force of it sending you against the edge of the pit, you finally felt that feeling in your stomach. The one you hid away behind conversations with yourself. Locked away behind a naive expectation that things will either go your way or go away. Your first taste of true regret. Because you got a glimpse of where that attitude has lead you. That attitude that kept you going when your parents had left you. That attitude that kept you alive when your survival was in your own hands at an age where other children were being coddled and sung to. That attitude that protected you in the harsh village slum, now had you staring down into hell. 'The pit'; a giant hole defacing mother earth's perfect form. It's surface covered in black ichor, you couldn't tell whether the walls were moving or you'd been hit so hard your vision was thoroughly fucked. This was considered a punishment worse than death. Jokesters and troublemakers got a stern talking to. Thieves and crooks got jail time. Murders and adulterers got death. But the truly damned got the pit. The punishment didn't match the crime but judging by the hate filled glares of the men surrounding you, they didn't much care.

Or maybe they did care, they cared about you as much as you did yourself, these days.

That was a more comforting thought, maybe? Maybe not. Either way, thinking about it felt a whole lot better than thinking of the weightlessness you felt as you fell. Your vision quickly losing the greens and yellows of a gentle forest to being plunged into darkness. A darkness beyond description. One that surpassed what's seen when you close your eyes for the night. That surpassed the unconsciousness of sleep when dreams escaped you. A darkness that felt like death yet was somehow alive.

The walls were moving, they shifted uncomfortably as they felt the presence of another. Voices that whispered of uncertainty and conflict. Voices that yelled intruder and ones that yelled fodder. But one voice just hummed in curiosity at seeing the source of blood and spit and tears it tasted. He had consumed many of your kind but what little it had of you ignited interest rather than hunger. So it did not eat. Didn't wrap you in its tendrils and rip you apart into easily digestible pieces to be absorbed by its mass. The tendrils held you, confused by their many intentions and wants, before simply bringing you lower into the pit. To the very bottom that no other creature has ever seen. No other creature would ever be allowed near. Far too close to it's more vulnerable organs. But you wouldn't hurt it, would you? Wouldn't hurt them. Not with those blunt nails and teeth, not with those little limbs and severed ties to the natural order. You were weaker than it's weakest points yet you fought against his tendrils like you believed you could win. Struggled and resisted as if you had a fighting chance. 'Hush, little human.' It thought as it strangled you, only enough to render you unconscious. Give it enough time to build a prison home inside itself for you. Then build a form for himself more perceptible to your primitive eyes, he'd tried once before but the human face was so hard to mimic. There was so much anger inside you, more for yourself than for him. And Nikto couldn't understand it. There is only one 'you' inside that tiny, fleshy form. How can one be angry at their own/only self? That would be one of the first things he asked. He felt there was nothing a creature like you could teach him yet he had so much he wanted to ask regardless. Maybe once he had his answers he could finally consume you in peace. Maybe then the voices that called for him to spare you will quiet down. And the ones that screamed for him to bond with you will stop. Your body couldn't handle the things he desires... Could it?

Regardless, he has time. All the time in the world and beyond.

Silly human, getting yourself thrown down here, what were you thinking?

All in all, I didn't want to forget the eldritch and just make a monster.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

☈ your bones singing into mine [interlude]

one - two

nikto x f!bio-weapons engineer reader (no use of y/n) NSFW A/N: had to write my own damn porn, but thank you, my beautiful envoys and beacon lighters. this is porn without plot and not canon to the main YBSIM storyline. reader is referred to with afab genitalia. as usual, shit's not proofread.

Nikto is a possessive, handsy, and handsome drunk.

Sometimes, he'll downgrade the mask to a balaclava, then tip bottles back to his lips with the fabric between. Always necks the bottle, but he'll only sip at a glass in your company. And, then, he's throwing drinks back like a shot.

Everything about him is violent, sudden, and sharp.

You're of his caliber—together you laugh darkly and call it decisive.

He is decisive when he's been drinking, his cock aching from straining against his zipper, and he snaps an arm around your waist like a shepherd's hook to force you into his lap. There's an armchair in the master suite of one of the hideaway homes he's made for you. It's across from a full-length mirror, and it's perfect for him—he gets to feel and see you squirm yourself comfortable in his lap.

"Pauk," he groans against your neck, humid and needful. His hand drops between your legs, using his grip over your cunt to haul you deeper into his lap. "Our Pauk—soft and warm," he rumbles, burying his face against your neck, breathing your scent hard. You can feel the jutting bone where his nose had been carved off his face, taking all the cartilage and skin.

"Talking about me like I'm a kitten-cat or a down-clothed bird," you snort, arching back against him, planting your feet on his knees. He starts to rub circles over your cunt with his hard, callused, cold hand; in the mirror, you watch his gloved fingers press against the fabric, in a spot you know they'd be teasing your entrance if you were bare.

"Mm. Nyet," he hums, all arousal-rampant thought. "We wouldn't say that. You've got too many sharp corners." He drops the mostly empty bottle in his other hand on the floor, too low in volume to spill out of the neck, and he brings both hands to the waistband of your pants. "Lift your hips. Want you to cum before we get our cock out."

You do as he asks, helping him slide your sleep pants down your hips, past your knees, off and onto the floor over the discarded bottle, but you ask, "Why not fuck, Andryu? Can feel the way you throb against my ass."

The moment you settle back in his lap, he has a hand lifted before your mouth, and you use your teeth to bite down on the fingertip, dragging the garment off.

"Because we'd rather make you cum than fucking breathe."

It's said with the tone of a smirk, and he plunges his middle and ring finger into your wet pussy, finger-fucking you like it's more exciting than every Christmas and first of the month that he's ever lived through. The heel of his hand claps against your cunt with every pump of his fingers, faster and faster, targeting your clit with every landing.

"Lyubimaya, talk. We want you to talk," he growls, shoving his free hand under your shirt to toy with your nipples, pinching and tugging them, making you snarl and buck against his hand, nails digging into the armrests of the seat.

You're not good at talking. Not ever. Especially not when you're getting fucked to within an inch of your purposefully darkened life. But, for him? You try. For him, you always try.

Your legs shake and try to snap shut around his hand, but they jump right back open, as if they refuse to even muffle the wet sounds coming from your body for a single moment. Dropping your head back against his shoulder, you moan, trying hard not to thrash against his body as his breathing grows ragged. And then that moan escalates, turns into a howling laugh, something silver-toothed and prowling, as you warn him, "Andryu, I'm going to squirt, you're making me cum, slow down—!"

He doesn't, of course.

"Yes, Pauk. Yes, lyubimaya, cum. That's a good girl. That's our good girl, our Paukya," he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder, watching between your legs as your pussy spasms around him, soaking his fingers, his lap, every fiber and blessed neuron and synapse of his fractured, tessellated mind.

Just because he loves to make you cum, doesn't mean he has any more patience than he does in any matter of his life. Andre Nikto is swift. He is decisive. When he wants something, he already has it crushed in his fist.

When your hips buck off him, he unzips his pants, letting his cock spring out between your legs. Smooth as reload, smooth as grenade-throw, his fingers slide out of your pussy and stroke his shaft wet, timing it perfectly for your hips to snap down and take half of his length in one motion.

"Andre!" you gasp, too dazed with pleasure to manage a full snap. How could you? Not when his hands are so needy on your hips, urging you low-low, a pretty plea to swallow him up, to blot out all the noise that runs in his head.

When you look up in the mirror, he's already staring back at you, glacier-blue eyes unblinking, rotten with desperation and pup-belly softness. Makes you crack and run like an egg. Like an overripe berry, mashed to red pulp in the hands of an eager child.

"Oh," you swallow. A moment passes, held in the suspension—you're the last two of a kind, preserved perfectly in amber, so long as your hearts can hear the echoing drumbeat of the other's—and a silent agreement is exchanged.

No. Nyet. Not an agreement—a declaration.

You love every one of him; every one of him loves you.

How simple and beautiful a thing—a concept you both can hold gentle in your flesh-rending claws for a soft, turning examination, before you consume it, as if to vaunt the flesh of a beloved death.

He thrusts up shallowly, meeting the gentle rocking of your hips. The hand once teasing the swollen walls of your pussy rests over your lower belly, pressing down heavily just over your pelvis. It makes every stroke of his cock feel tenfold more pronounced—deeper, slower, fuller, all the harder to stave off or deny.

"Can," you start, trying not to squirm too much, wanting to last as long as possible, "I touch your hair? The mask you can leave be, that I won't ask you, but I want to lover-touch the hair at the back of your skull."

He heaves a violent shudder, slamming his way deep, all the way home, and wordlessly nods. More than that, he meets your hand as it darts to the back of his head, guiding you the rest of the way, and pulling up the balaclava only enough to find the satin-slip of his shining black hair.

He holds your hand there, grunting and cutting off moans next to your ear, his head bowed into your shoulder. He prays over you. He prays for you. You are his answer. Perhaps, you have always been.

The pair of you stay in this ecstatic trance, moving together forcefully and slowly, for long, long minutes. You begin to sweat, reeking of one another. You begin to shake, your muscles burning.

His hips move in the way only a drunken, determined man's can. A bit clumsily, but massively greedy. There's a slop in the way he fucks up into you, but there is greediness, too. He can see how wet your pussy is, sucking and spasming around him. He can see how it's made his cock glisten, and how it's darkened the fabric of his pants where it's dripped. He likes it. But a man in love will like anything that comes from his lover.

"Paukyushka," he growls, eyes squeezed closed with the restraint that has always held his entire body together, "can you cum? We're. Pizdec. We're close."

"I can cum, kotik, just keep going," you breathe, fucking down harder on him, mouth curling in a pleased little grin.

He lets go of a ragged moan at that, as if you're the one tearing it from his perforated throat, fucking faster, pulling grunts and tight sighs out of your body as he ramps you up. It becomes hard to hold onto—more oddly, it becomes harder to let go, and, fuck, do you try.

It expands lie molten heat in your lower belly, pressuring your pelvis, your bladder—makes your swollen, sensitive clit throb as your walls start to spasm, clenching wildly around the length of his cock. Shit, you can feel it in your shoulders, tensing the muscles between the blades.

"Mm, fuck—shit, oh fuck," you hiss, your legs jolting and ring to snap closed.

"Pauk!" he barks. Nothing close to a warning or threat, simply a harsh plea.

"Shh! Quiet your mouths," you hiss, "I'll get it done!"

He grumbles under his breath, talking a plan over with his many facets, and acts.

His arm snaps over your rips, trap-sprung, and rucks you up his own body. It makes you squawk, head swiveling as you snake an arm around his neck for balance, and that makes him laugh, gritty as sandpaper. His cock barely manages to stay inside you, by an inch, if that. His other hand goes to the back of your thigh, pulling you open over his knee as he pants his booted foot on the seat of the chair, giving him more leverage.

This weird, tangled position gives the many demons in the both of you fits, and he's not going to last long, but that was never the intention. Two, then three hard thrusts, and you're sucking in air through your clenched teeth, cumming around his cock, digging your nails into his chest and his forearm.

With an ungodly bellow, he pulls out at the very least second, shooting his load straight over his cock, your thigh, his lap. You're both shaking, trembling, disgraced piles of flesh, and you wonder if you sit still for long enough, could you possibly melt into a mingled pile of flesh and splintered bone.

At once, the two of you slump together, though you do turn on your hips to miss a majority of the mess on his legs. He strokes your hair. You reach back to play with his.

"What a mess you've all made," you huff, panting and breathless. "Like a boy; all balls, no control."

"No babies," he says in a stern, but thin voice.

"No babies," you mimic, borrowing his drizzled tone for yourself. "No babies, yes, but my upholstery you've ruined."

"Mm. We...do not care," he finally decides, and you find glory in the smile in his tone.

"Good. I like that," you say, packing in as much dignity as you can manage before the facade crumbles. You're left laughing, stupid and free, and his answers back, a rumble that echoes through your ribs.

[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💕

[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

[andreas-river]

IS IT RAINING, OR I'M DROWNING AGAIN?

TW: dissociation symptoms, mention of torture, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort.

PAIRING: Nikto x F! Reader

A/N: I love angst. That's it.

Nikto hated the rain.

And no one would believe if he said that, because surely a ‘person like him’ would prefer when it rains, the peaceful sound of the raindrops against a window that would give a calming effect.

For Nikto, every raindrop was a bomb setting off inside his brain. It was like an explosion, making him dizzy and unable to move. Like all those days tied to that creaking chair, his head covered by the hood while it rained outside that cold cell he was confined. He remember vividly how it was raining, between the screams of that motherf—

“Nikto?”

Then, he felt a cold shower inside him, holding his breath as he turned around. A hand was open towards him, your figure under the rain, your shirt sticking to your skin.

Fuck. He dissociated again. It wasn’t happening anymore, and now that he was back with the only person who treated him like a human being, he was having those episodes again.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay outside too much. Let’s go back inside, yeah?” How he loved your voice, the way you offered your hand, giving him a choice.

He could see how the rain was soaking your hand, the raindrops falling on both of you, the cold seeping through his bones. His eyes wandered around, assessing the reality. He was outside in the middle of the backyard. He was listening to the sound of raining, then…

He blinked rapidly. He hated the rain, so why he was outside and letting the rain fall on him? He started to count in his mind, one, two, three… and you were still there, still standing in front of him, your hair sticking to your face. You were shivering, but why were you smiling as if you were saying that everything was going to be okay?

He finally takes your hand, the skin clammy and cold, letting you lead him back into the house. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t need to anyway. He lets you change his clothes. He doesn’t complain for the water that’s soaking the floor, or the towel that you’re using on him to dry off his skin.

But he can still hear the rain outside, bombs setting off on his mind, making him dizzy and unable to run for cover.

Why he was outside, and why he was letting the rain fall on him?

He was drowning, and he wasn’t fighting it.

He observes you as you stand in front of him between his legs, holding his head and placing it against your chest. He lets you move him, not that he wants to fight your touch. But what he hears drowns all the sounds overloading his mind, making him rise to the surface again. He can hear your heartbeat: the rhythm isn’t steady, it beats fast. But it’s there. And it’s real.

It’s calming, enough that when he tentatively grip the soft skin of your thigh, he can feel it, sensing the skin on skin sending to his brain signals of home, of safety.

He doesn’t speak, and neither you do.

But that’s all he needs.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ICARUS (XI)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, described stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, explosions, blood, implied harm/injury, death, plot progression, dirty talk, smut/NSFW, dry humping, semi-public intimacy, light dom/sub dynamics, Nikto likes to be given pet-names because I said so, implied previous breath play/cunnilingus/ p-in-v sex/rough sex/finishing inside, clothed stimulation, etc. (Series 18+)

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

“I’m not going to let you do all of it,” you grumble, rubbing at your thigh with your right hand. 

“Walk to me,” Nikto’s dark brow raises from below his mask, pale eyes darting you up and down. “Without your knees shaking.”

Your face flares up, and you bite back a sarcastic comment as the driver of the car walks past, sending a glance to where the Russian packs the back of the vehicle with your bags. Nikto huffs a chuckle as another settles into the trunk, flattening it with his gloved hands.

“Rude,” you mutter, glaring lightly. “You’re getting bold with your words, Nikto.”

“Surely we have failed somewhere,” your guard grunts, trying to scrutinize his talent of fucking you senseless last night. “You are still upright instead of collapsed to the floor. Did I not find that spot inside of your drooling cunt that made you say you would not be able to walk—”

“Okay!” You loudly, raising your hands, breathless in reaction. Your entire body is seemingly being rolled on a spit as waves of fire lick at your neck, and you have to force words out from the dryness of your throat. “I’m going to sit in the car—you have fun packing with your dirty mouth, you brute.”

Nikto hums arrogantly, and the smirk is plainly heard by your ears as they ring in embarrassment. “You did not complain about this mouth hours prior. Nor the tongue, Птичка.”

“Holy hell,” you push a hand into your face, grimacing. Brief shadowed flashes of a half-masked face sitting in the clutch of your legs leave you stuttering wildly. “Nikto!” 

Taking a large breath before opening the dark door, you hear that loud hyena bark of a laugh in return, before you slip inside and firmly slam the barrier closed. 

“Oh my God,” your response bounces off the windows, but the infectious smile grows steadily over your flesh until it needs to be hidden by your hand, tiny chuckles making your eyes crinkle. 

Shaking your head, you settle back and grasp the seat belt, clicking the metal together as the straps pull across your chest securely. 

You were going back to Yekaterinburg, but the realization was…less than concerning. There was a sort of liberation in your blood now—something to be proud of even if it was such a small thing. 

Your eyes glance behind to the rear window, seeing the great form of Nikto continuing to pack the trunk in your absence, back in his regular gear with the suit in the hands of the stylists. You can’t say you didn’t miss it, but having him return to some semblance of normalcy was calming to you. Home was the destination, first and foremost: back to your trinkets and your treasures, fabric, and soft rugs. 

You’d stood up to AMA and the jobs they’d assigned to you. No more parties, you’d told Iakov, who you still hadn’t seen a glimpse of since last night. No calls either. He’d never gotten back to you, but you were sure a hellstorm was brewing above your head.

Lips pull slightly, but the thought is pushed to the back of your mind as just a result of hurt pride. He’d survive. 

But you weren’t too sure if you would.

“Home,” you sigh, bringing back your smile forcefully. Even with all the added challenges being back in Yekaterinburg would cause, you can’t help the thrill of your heart at the thought of familiar streets and faces. Your mom wanted to talk, and AMA was getting on you about showing up to the building for a meeting, both to-dos were competing like fighting cats. 

You still couldn’t tell which was worse. 

The trunk behind you is audibly closed with a heavy hand, the metal of the vehicle moving up and down as Nikto stands back to the sidewalk and rolls his wrist—walking to the door before slipping inside next to you. Cushions dipping, you glance over and tilt your head as Nikto’s knee hits yours, the Russian readjusting his thighs before he grumbles under his breath and glances to the window. 

“All set?” You ask, putting your hands into your lap as your foot hits the small crossbody bag on the floor. It holds a few simple items to help pass the travel time—your book, laptop, phone, and a few scrap papers for random notes or doodles.

Nikto nods, glancing over to you. “Make sure you do not forget anything.”

You huff. “I’m good. Trust me, it helps to pack light.”

You’re given a slow blink, the man’s eyelids narrowing. He hums. 

“You have brought six bags,” Nikto utters gruffly, hearing his frown on the air. 

“And you were very gentlemanly loading all of them,” you grin, sending over your amusement-tight skin as the blank mask offers only numb attention. “Very sweet on me, Big Guy.” 

Nikto makes an annoyed sound under his breath, rolling his eyes partially. “You would not survive a deployment. Too attached to your items.”

You laugh. “Sue me for buying things I’d like to keep. C’mon,” your attention moves as Nikto gives a sharp order to the driver to leave, which he does with a glance backward and a sneer at your guard. “You’re meaning to tell me you don’t have anything you want to have near you a lot—something important?”

The bear-like man pauses as he settles back into his seat, the vehicle starting up. He takes a breath, and you see the Kevlar of his chest piece rise and fall. Nikto grunts, seeming to realize he’s staring at you as he pulls his eyes to the glass of the window quickly. 

“A handful.” 

You sigh before it ends in a soft huff. “Any specifics?” Your interest is obvious.

“None we wish to tell about.” He glances, and seeing your teasing stare, he shifts, scoffs under his breath with no real anger, and shrugs his large shoulders before coming up with a simple answer. “My notebook, then.” Nikto’s eyelids lower, thinking back to the item in the back of his consciousness and the importance it holds. You’d only seen it once, he knows—back when he had written you a grocery list for your penthouse. Hell, if only you could take a glance at the contents now. 

Nikto clears his throat, continuing in a deeper tone. “Rag to clean my weapons.”

It’s a small chuckle he gets from you. “Makes sense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them dirty before.”

A steady silence falls before the Russian feels the need to speak again, and in his mind, he replays every word that you’d said to him throughout these fast-paced and eye-opening days. Being near you now was slightly different in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. 

Taking in the hues and colors of the city as it goes by swiftly, he frowns and spares you a side-eye as you dig around your bag—seeing your fingers slip out a book and lay it next to you before you flatten out the fabric of your pants. Nikto’s eyes softened gradually, but no one would ever notice unless they knew how to read him as perfectly as a midnight storm: trying to pinpoint where the thunder came from. He clears his throat and blinks, raising a hand to itch at his neck, pushing and pulling at the cover of canvas until his senses level out once more.

He enjoyed last night. Immensely. 

In his head, it’s all he can say about it without deeming himself a malleable fool. Some kind-coated idiot who hadn’t seen the betrayal that such a care can bring. Allowing himself to get emotionally involved is a death sentence, and Nikto was always pushing himself to be the perfect image of order. But with you, it was different, or, at least, that was what he told himself. The reminder of your sweat-heavy scent was firm in the back of his nose. 

The Russian’s body angles itself, and in a sure movement of his hand, his arm slips across your abdomen and steals the book at your side. 

Your attention darts up, your nice shirt pressed right up to your flesh as Nikto’s sturdy arm slides along it like a snake. You mutely watch him, your ribs being rubbed as all at once the man’s roaming grip leaves. Blinking, your heart beats a bit quicker as Nikto brings your book in front of him, tilting his head down to it as you watch. 

It was imperative that you remind yourself that having sex with the man didn’t make him yours. 

As you watch Nikto’s hidden fingers lightly brush the cover, your eyes follow the way he maneuvers the front to take a glance at the spine, seeing as the dust jacket is gone. 

“Crime and Punishment?” The Russian blinks as the car takes a right, slipping along the streets as the houses and buildings start to get more of a distance between them. Nikto looks over at you. “Fyodor Dostoevsky.” He pauses, keeping the book to himself as if trying to understand. 

“Aly recommended it,” your face goes heated at the newfound attention on you. “She read it in University.”

“It is good book,” Nikto hums. “Though, I found Notes From Underground more of an interest to me.”

“I’ll have to add it to the list,” you smile softly. “I’ve seen you read a lot when there’s time—do you like it as much as cooking, Nikto?” 

That seems to make him think, watching the Russian’s eyebrows pull in minute wonder. You wished you could understand what blue looked like…you were sure his eyes were beautiful. Especially when he was actively attempting to keep the conversation going. 

“We have not thought about it much,” he grumbles, flipping your book open to where you had placed a small strip of fabric as a bookmark—Nikto picks the thing up as he speaks. “Both are calming. Good distractions.” He looks at you. “I would not give rank, though there is a time and place for them.”

“Fair,” you breathe, shrugging. You lightly lean into his shoulder, and you hear Nikto grunt as his attention stays like a cat. “But I do have to say I think your cooking might be higher on my personal scale.”

A soft puff of air sneaks out of the mask and Nikto shifts his head down as you elbow the rough material of his gear playfully.

“Добро.” His tone is low, grating as every little ache from last night seems to flare in your muscles. “I…enjoy cooking for you.”

You stare at one another for a moment, getting lost in the intimacy of an open gaze, before you blink quickly and move back, chuckling as your body burns. Like a bird, if you had feathers, they would be puffed up by now. 

Nikto watches your fingers fidget in your lap as he twitches his digits against the cover of your book, setting it on his thigh as he spares a look at the driver. The man’s eyes are visible in the mirror, and when they lock, those dark brown orbs dart away as if on fire; blond hair cut close to his scalp. 

The ex-soldier watches the back of his head for a few moments, thinking. 

Hell, he would be lying by saying that he wasn’t on edge ten times more than he was before. Anyone glancing at you could be the person he’s after—it was maddening to the point of making him obsess over your safety to the tiniest degree. 

And yet, there had been no further texted images: no messages or dead birds. No bombs. 

Just that one.

‘I know what you did.’

Yes, Nikto thinks, sighing under his breath, you do know. But do you know what we did in that bedroom last night? Why don’t you come and punish me for it? Hm? 

“Pathetic,” the Russian whispers to himself, fingering the paper below him until he can peek at the next page to see where you were in the story. 

You turn your head from the window, watching gray trees finally begin making a permanent appearance. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Nikto mutters, attention-catching on that point he’d made to himself. Last night. He backtracks, lowering his voice until it’s only you who can hear—side glaring at the driver like a skittish mutt. “You are...” Pale eyes dig, pulling into a narrowed form as if your mind was the same as the book he holds open. Something to be read. “Adequate?”

Your brows pull in. “Why are we whispering?” You ask, keeping the same tone regardless as you lean closer again; both nearly nose to nose.

Nikto glares, but you can’t see his face beginning to slowly change shade. 

“We are asking if you are fit for the long ride.”

He sees your eyes blink slowly. “I’m fine…Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The Russian stays silent, openly staring without any discernible emotion in his eyes. You hear him take a breath, glancing once more at the driver, before leaning in further. He huffs sharply. 

“Are you alright after what we did—” A kiss is placed on Nikto’s hidden cheek as your laughs echo in his ear. 

You lean backward a bit, amusement leaking from you. Sparking eyes meet the ex-soldiers, frozen and taken aback with unmoving eyes. 

“I’m just joking, I know what you’re asking me,” you tilt your head, smiling as Nikto’s orbs dip to stare as a swirl of emotions moves in his gut. He swallows, unable to look away. “I’m fine,” you mutter, feelings softening to a bashfulness. “Nothing to worry about…I don’t break easily.” 

“Hm,” Nikto’s form returns to where it was previously, and you can tell he’s blushing, even if you can’t see his face or name the shade he would be. Yet, he’s still as blunt as ever as the smirk comes back into his voice. “...Are we sure, Птичка?”

“Bastard,” you huff, motioning with a hand as the Russian almost purrs at the dirty banter. Your finger points to him as you unclick your seatbelt, shifting so you can put your head into his lap similar to how you had on the drive here. Looking up, smug eyes stare down—your finger in his face making him want to grab at it as a dog does fresh meat. He still remembers how your skin tastes; he’s not too far gone to admit he doesn't like how he’s addicted to it. 

“You’re getting confident now.”

“We were always confident,” he grates through his accent. “You’ve given us something to battle your need to annoy me with.” 

“I like to call it teasing,” you smirk and Nikto’s leather gloves grasp at your neck carefully, making you pause as your eyes widen. Instinctually, you open the skin more to him, head tilting back and legs shifting over the seats to break open before you stop yourself with a small gasp.  

Those sand-paper laughs make your thighs close in on themselves as you glare weakly, face lighting up with pure embarrassment as Nikto’s fingers squeeze. You’re ashamed at the pulse of your core. A dog in heat.

There’s a face in your ear.

“One good fuck has you trained, hm?” 

“I’ve had better,” you try to hiss, one eye going to the oblivious driver. A second hand moves your book to the floor before it grabs at your thigh, going to pry it open with fat fingers. You strangle a gasp, biting at your lips as you squeak at the sensitivity. “Nikto,” you breathe in warning.

A palm cups your core, and you strangle the limb as the heel is rubbed against your clothed clit. He finds it with no trouble at all: already having you memorized.

You hear Niktto’s heavy breaths—his pulsing grip at your neck as you fight a whimper and your eyes flutter. Your pelvis starts grinding downward in broken stutters, and the Russian leaves his hand there, body completely hanging over you as he stares at the back of the driver's head, wanting to lick the flesh beside your ear, and for the first time, damning his mask. 

“Have you, yes?” Nikto wonders, words so steady no one would imagine what was taking place. “Hm. Maybe we will have to leave you alone next time, Little Bird. Get you to find someone else who gets you to scream like I have. Do you remember it?” 

Your panties are soaked, and the fluids leak out onto your pants as you continue to rut into Nikto’s gloved palm, back arching over the bulk of his thigh to push your body over his lap, getting a better angle as your guard follows. You listen, and Nikto’s getting harder by how your spine runs its vertebrae over his clothed dick. He jerks once or twice up into it, not above fucking you in front of someone else if this escalates any further. As long as you keep your eyes on him when you cum. 

He likes hearing the small noise you make as your orgasm hits.

Nikto breathes, finishing his sentence as you get yourself off to his palm like a good little charge, “How you pleaded for my cum inside of you, Seraph?”

Your cunt flutters, wildly sensitive from last night enough to a point where every grind of your hips felt like Nikto’s cock was still bullying its way in and out of you. 

“You cried, yes? As we were bouncing you up and down? How many rounds did that pretty cunt take as you took me so well? Four? Пять? Шесть? Oh, Птичка.” Nikto glances down at your work, smirking as his scars pull tight at the image of the slick over his glove. You were drenched—he almost felt bad. Almost. 

“No, we know better than to play with my meal.” He burrows his face into your neck, beginning to let his hand move up and down as your thighs shake, he knows that feeling—that little tell of yours. “No one makes that pussy as wet as I do.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes rolling back and your throat tight with the fight between rabid moans and curses. Have to be quiet.

Your flinching eyes worriedly darted to the driver, who still hasn’t looked back at the two of you at all. If anything, the idea of getting caught…well, your hand sneaks down to Nikto’s wrist, pushing him even closer as his smooth chuckles mar your eardrums. 

You whine under your breath as you force his palm into you, angling it just right against your clit before your eyes start to roll back in broken increments—lighting making your back arch and toes curl. There are tiny squeaks from the leather seats, but nothing else. 

“Good,” Nikto pants, rubbing his erection into your back. “Tell us we are right.”

“You’re right,” you hurriedly whisper to him. “So wet for you, Baby.”

His eyes spark, and he ruts a bit harder, making you stifle a squeak. “Say it again,” he orders, eyes glinting inside of his sockets.

“Baby,” you wince, legs trying to suck in his fingers as your thighs close and rub into them harder. “Nikto, Baby,” your teeth mark your lips heavily.

His shaky breath in your ear accompanies you as your eyes roll back and your spine arches, and, part of a sharp noise exits your mouth as your orgasm hits you, before the hand at your neck sloppily places itself over your drooling lips. 

Layers of electricity playing through your weeping cunt, you fight for breath out of your nose as your eyes glaze over, head partially hanging off of Nikto to the seat below as your legs slowly stop their thrusts. 

A minute or two passes before your guard leans back, taking his hands off of you and grunting in masochistic pleasure as the ache of his untreated erection still grinds itself into your back slowly—almost torture in the way it keeps him aroused and unable to soften. 

Nikto’s grip finds your stomach after he can feel his dick leaking out into his underwear, making a cold mess against his flesh. In a hidden idea, he pushes his hand down into you so he has a better angle to thrust against a firm surface, letting his head connect with the back of the seat as he fucks up into you with his flexing thighs and clenched jaw. 

Your eyes pull open to watch him, your mouth half open as your study of his panting chest falls to how you can nearly feel the way his cock drags. He doesn't care at all about anything else about how it feels to get off against you—it’s not as good as finishing inside of your cunt, but he can imagine the warm walls well enough as he begins to make cut-of groans in his chest. Using you like a doll, your wide gaze stays stuck on the sight like glue. 

“I am going to fuck you in your bed,” Nikto sighs, only telling himself as he’s still violently aware of the audience he keeps. “Use that penthouse as an excuse to lay you out on every surface. Yes, fuck you good. Keep you and your soft body pleased with every drag of my cock.” 

Yet, he’s less concerned with the driver’s eyes now that you’ve cum in his hand—his sex appetite is strong, just as his regular one is; embarrassment is a myth to him regarding it. How many times had he resorted to locking himself in a bathroom when he was in the military, just to jerk off while watching in the mirror as thick ropes of cum splattered his chest? How many sneaked sessions in his barracks until his eyes would roll back, and he had to grind into a pillow with the cold stains of previous loads making him moan?

As long as he could see your eyes looking into him, he could bust just by a touch at his crotch.

Nikto strangles a low groan, shudders violently, and then his thighs stop—sag, and he pants, going limp against the seat. The spurts of his orgasm leaves wet patches in his pants, and he can imagine it pooling, instead, out of your pussy as it should be.

The both of you lay in the sopping remnants of your insatiable lust, leaking out to one another, and only think about what you both can have once you’re back in Yekaterinburg and alone.

Maybe there won’t be a meeting with AMA or my mom, you think as Nikto rubs a thumb down your cheek—letting your eyes slip shut softly as your nostrils flare with every breath. He hums in satisfaction, petting your thigh as he massages your inner leg.

Maybe we’ll fuck so much we’ll end up forgetting our names instead. 

Hell, it didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

—

Halfway through Nikto’s audible reading of Crime and Punishment—in which he sometimes lapsed into Russian rambles in the middle of a sentence—you shift against the seat and mutter out a question. 

“So, he’s going to try to get away with murder?”

Nikto pauses in his speaking, looking over from the page as his mask shines into the light. It’s a little past noon if you had to guess. “Да.” Nikto’s brows furrow. “We are four chapters in—have you just noticed?”

“You’ve been speaking in Russian for the last fifteen minutes.”

Nikto curses under his breath, glaring at you incredulously after he closes the book with a single hand. “Why did you not say?”

You smile slowly. “It sounded nice?” 

The man sighs out loud, bringing up a hand to push into the plate at his nose in a funny display of exasperation. A laugh makes its way out of your mouth, and you shake your head. 

“It’s alright—I don’t mind. I just like listening to your voice.” 

“Hm,” Nikto looks at you, huffing, but you can tell he takes it to heart by the way his shoulders sag a small bit. “You are strange, Woman.” 

“As I’ve been told,” you breathe, chuckling. “You’ll re-read it to me later?”

The Russian’s head tilts to the side. “In русский or English?” 

Your eyes glint, your smirk rising, and you let the question sit in the air until Nikto’s eyes pull in understanding the longer you stare at him. 

He hums deep in his breast, gaze molten heat.

“Русский, then. Да, I will not complain if you enjoy it, Птичка.”

You call out breathily as you stare into his eyes, “Thank you, Baby.”

Nikto’s spine goes rigid, and before you can snort you slap a hand to your mouth and level your head to the window, body shaking with muffled laughter.

“Нелепый,” the man growls out, pushing at the fabric of his crotch and shifting his abdomen as your loud snort slips out. “You are much too confident in your abilities now—”

The car begins to shake and the driver curses out loud.

Immediately, all teasing is cut like a blade as Nikto’s eyes slash forward: slitted. 

Both of your attention is locked onto the driver as he snaps in Russian, banging a hand to the wheel as your body pauses. 

“Nikto?” You ask the question under your breath.

Your guard slips forward in his seat, grasping the back of the driver’s seat and growling out a low question in his native tongue. He only looks over his shoulder to you after a long and heated discussion. 

“He says the vehicle is not acting correctly.”

“Not acting correctly?” Your face pulls, form getting more rigid as the car veers off the main road to the side, grumbling like an animal as the hood shakes. “Why? How? It was working just fine yesterday.”

“I do not know,” Nikto utters, eyes narrowing. He glances at you, tension growing in his spine. “Keep near us. Do not leave my sight.”

“Right,” you nod, ears twitching as the driver parks the car and gets out in a huff, barking expletives and waving his hands. A sliver of nervousness slips into your blood.

Nikto has a bad feeling. 

The hair on the back of his neck stands up as he pops the door open, hearing his boots hit the asphalt as he breathes out. Standing to his full height, he keeps the fuming driver in the corner of his pale vision, holding the barrier open for you and keeping you from the mostly vacant road as a car passes quickly. 

“Slowly,” Nikto mutters, grabbing at your arm to make sure your lack of coordination didn’t send you to an early death. 

You give him a small smile, and he stares for longer than he should before the Russian blinks, holding you away from open traffic—his body keeps itself nearest to the road as you both move to the hood. 

“That can’t be good,” you murmur with a raised brow as the driver smacks the vehicle, waving his hand in front of his face as a thin tendril of dark smoke mists through the air like a grim cloud. 

“No,” Nikto stares, his fingers sliding along the fabric of your shirt—curling just at the small of your back. “It can not.” His unimpressed voice carries over the area as another car passes.

You stare lightly after, knowing it’s the second vehicle that belongs to AMA just by the make and model; especially by the license plate. It carries a number of personnel—most likely Iakov, your stylists, and a photographer or two. The car sees that you’re stopped, slows, and also pulls off the road a large distance ahead. 

“At least we’ll have another ride if this can’t be fixed,” you comment as you and your guard join the driver, Nikto grunting in Russian with an order to stop denting the car’s frame. A sigh slips your lips and you stretch carefully—raising your arms above your head and hearing your bones cracking. “Won’t be stranded,” you end in a strained voice before you sigh in relief and relax.

As Nikto and the driver descend into clipped words, your phone rings from inside the vehicle. Blinking, your body is quick to shuffle the way back and snatch the thing out, retreating to the grass to the right of the scene and a small way away—it’s still easy to see how Nikto keeps an eye on you, however. 

With his comment yesterday about a new picture from the stalker, you weren’t keen on being away from him either. The thought makes your skin crawl, but you know you’re better off never seeing whatever the contents had been…you’d already seen enough of that freak’s ‘pictures’ to last a lifetime. 

Answering the call, you push the phone to your ear. “Seraph,” you say, half-facing the road and half to the tree line. Your drive back home had barely started—already you’d run into trouble? These last few months were continually stacking on top of one another for the top ten worst moments in your life. 

Galina’s voice pushes through. 

“Where are you currently?”

Your face loosens, brows twisting. “Driving back to Yekaterinburg now, we just ran into some car trouble,” you pause, seeing Nikto going to open the hood but being stopped by the driver, who seems to think he can do it himself without any help at all. “...Is there something going on?”

Nikto only breaks away in attention to look over to you every so often, his fingers twitching and shoulders wound up under all that gear. 

Why is he so tense? You have to ask yourself in curiosity before your guard’s head snaps to where others from the second car spill out, beginning walking to you three—coming to help like little trees down the line of asphalt.

Running your free hand over the back of your skull, as always, Nikto’s nervousness makes you tense; especially when he shifts his hand to brush his beretta like that. That dark void of a mask is permanently stuck giving you half of a glare, and you can perfectly imagine his jaw clenching.

But everybody here was trustworthy, weren’t they? 

Iavov’s shorter stature makes its way forward quicker than the others, calling out words that you can’t hear. He holds something in his hands, and it glints in the light.

Galina spares no chance to breathe between rapid clipped sentences. 

“Sergi has had to be released from custody—Yaromir and I have little concern he was involved in anything that resulted in harm to another. We can not keep him.” You had expected that; it wasn’t surprising. “But he mentioned something that I believe you should know before you return.”

“What is it?” Your voice is low, concerned as Iakov and the rest raise their words. Nikto barks at them in Russian to stay where they are as his eyes glint dangerously for no discernible reason. The driver shifts his fingers away from the hood as you begin shuffling closer as well, spine straight with tension. 

The air was alive with a cord ready to snap.

“He mentioned something about knowing a man who works at Allurement in an off comment when he didn’t realize he was being recorded.”

Your feet speed up to the car almost instinctively. 

“Who?”

“We were unable to push for a name. Sergi got far too nervous and shut down on us; there was little left to do. But there’s another thing.”

Heart pattering, you call to Nikto stiffly, seeing him only hold a hand out to tell you to not come any closer. You frown, disregarding the concern, and are now about five feet away from the car and eager to figure out what’s wrong with it so you can leave—you feel eyes on you, and in a paranoid moment, your vision darts to the approaching group of six. Closer now.

“Seraph,” Nikto grinds out. “Stay there. There is something that we do not like about—”

Galina’s continued explanation interrupts your Russian just as the driver gets the hood finally open with a loud call of victory. You blink, your fingers over the phone gripping the device like a woman strangling a knife while facing a home intruder. 

“Sergi was spotted disposing of multiple cameras by way of selling them off to anyone who would take them all over the city. We’re trying to track down the buyers, but we don’t believe the cameras were his to begin with. He’s hiding evidence for someone.”

There’s a bright spark that makes your eyes flinch shut like you’d been staring into the sun. Head snapping to the side, you cover your face with a heavy hiss as you halt in your tracks, stepping back as Nikto’s loud voice carries. 

“Seraph!” You startle, legs dragging across the ground. “Get down! Немедленно!”

“—There is reason to believe that Sergi has a close connection and a willingness to protect whoever is behind these events. Perhaps even the evidence from the explosion at the bakery was tampered with—”

The car bursts into an inferno just as Nikto’s body connects with yours.

Meeting the ground hard, the man rolls along with you as the air is snatched from your lungs and skin whipped by fire—the sound of screeching metal so loud that the resounding ringing in your ears is immediate as debris whizzes past your head.

In the exit of all air from your lungs, your phone is lost as you gasp sharply.

There’s a sting of pain across your face—in your arm as well as Nikto drapes himself over you with a firm bark of a gut-twisting curse, gripping and dragging you until you’re stapled to his chest.

Far above, the screaming and the sizzle of flesh all melt together into the image of a gray sun. Smoke wafts away on a slow breeze, and the body of a panting man above you is voided until null even as hands pull you from him to stare down at you—at the crimson blood that he can see in such vivid detail.

There’s only the sensation of him calling your name frantically before it all gets sucked into oblivion around pale, horribly panicked eyes.

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[bellaluvsmakarov]

Snow ~ F Medic!Reader X Post torture!Nikto

While Nikto was bleeding out in the snow, so desperately needing a medic, you came. You fixed him up and made him stay in the booth. You fixed other patients and boy, did he not like it. He grunted, trying to get your attention on him. "Yes, dear?" You kindly ask as you gave some soldier morphine. "Bandage." He grunted out, his Russian accent ringing out in the booth. You walked over, "Need a new one?" you mumble and grab a bandage. As you lifted his shirt, blood was soaking the bandage up. You quickly change it. "Спасибо.." he mumbles and looks away.

Next thing you know, you're getting gifts everyday from him. He provides protection. He could never thank you enough for getting him out the snow on that cold night.

[thedovesaredying]

Little Chicken | Cowboy!Nikto x F!Reader | Oneshot

Figured out a cute little nickname for Nikto's reader in the Cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams as always! I thought it was fitting since "chicken" or "chook" is an affectionate term where I live and I think it's an adorable petname.

Nikto has complicated feelings about watching his girl doing her job. She's by no means weak or incompetent at it, but he can only hold his nerve for so long.

Call of Duty Masterlist

“цыпа,” Nikto huffs, trying in vain to call you back while he watches you continue to wade through the knee-deep water of the river. He normally trusts your ability to handle yourself with large and dangerous animals; this is your job and you’ve been doing it for years. But this? This is too far even for him.  

“Nikto! Come look!” you excitedly call to him, looking back to grin at him with that blindingly bright smile that shows off your dimples. In any other situation, seeing such a loving, genuine smile aimed his way would give him that warm feeling in his gut. Instead, it just concerns him even more that you’re paying attention to him and not the animal at your feet.  

“нет, we can see fine from here,” he keeps his eyes glued to the huge creature floating in place only a few feet from you.  

“Aww, c’mon Nikto! He’s only a little fella, can’t be more than seven or eight feet,” you look back to the alligator sitting on the riverbed. You hum to yourself, tilting your head this way and that as you observe the animal, “he’s got a nice thick snout, so it’s definitely a male.” While you continue to list different facts about the species, Nikto can only watch as the alligator in question starts drifting closer.

“-and look, because of all the sensory nerves along the top of the head, tapping the water’s surface like this will cause him to-” you reach down toward the water and- Before you can do... whatever it is you’re planning on doing, he takes a couple of long strides into the water and reaches down, hauling you bodily from the river.  

“нет, абсолютно нет, не происходит, нет,” He throws you over one shoulder and carries you back to dry land, regardless of your protests.  

“Nikto, Nikto put me down,” he ignores you, “I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t have let him actually bite me.” You grumble when he continues all the way back to the truck the two of you arrived in, corralling you into the front seat with his broad body blocking you from attempting to escape.  

You hop up into the seat, turning your body so that you’re sitting facing out the open truck door. The truck is high enough that you can look him in the eye without craning your neck, and the pout you subject him to is admittedly rather endearing. “You will be the death of us, цыпа,” he sighs, gently knocking his forehead against yours.  

Your brows furrow slightly, “I’ve never heard that one before, what does it mean?” you ask quietly, refusing to break this soft moment.  

“It means chicken,” he replies, and tries not to grin when you giggle, “you are like a little chicken, yes?” 

“Are you saying I’m a coward?” you pretend to clutch your pearls, but the dramatic reaction is ruined by your bright grin.  

“No, of course not,” he reassures you, “you’re stupid.”  

He receives a slap to the chest as you gasp, “Nikto!” You glare at him, poking his chest with a single finger, “I guess that makes you a donkey, then, because you’re a complete ass.” 

The cackle that bursts out of him is entirely genuine, but he can’t help it, not when you come out with something so unexpected. You quickly join him in laughter, and the two of you must be a strange sight, sitting in a truck beside the river, giggling like a couple of teenagers.  

“You’re lucky, моя цыпа, no one else would be allowed to get away with being so rude.” Perhaps he’ll keep the name, it suits you, to be a sweet little chicken, and you don’t seem to be too put off by it given the way you plant a soft kiss against his clothed lips.

-

Translations:

"цыпа" - Chick/Little Chicken - A baby chicken - Pronounced Cypa

"моя цыпа" - My chick/My little chicken - Pronounced Moya Cypa

"нет" - No

“нет, абсолютно нет, не происходит, нет” - No, absolutely not, not happening, no/nope.