#tag whatever because nikto needs more tags :((

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: post sex scenario-ish, nikto x fem implied! reader, drunken sex implied, idk what else. might marry this man

The worst part was after the sex. Your memories of last night were probably a blur. And for Nikto, well, he'd never let himself be so vulnerable as to forget a night spent with something as sweet as you. When you had first approached Nikto, he wondered if you realized how hideous and ravaged he was.​

Didn't have the time to pull his face mask up when you trotted over, begging for a night with him. He wondered if sober you, the one buried against his sternum, would remember the rough texture of his countless scars, of the mutilated bits of his body - if you would wake up with fear, screaming for him to get out.

Yet you never gave him the chance to cower - hide away his trauma branded flesh. Somehow your grip so strong, fingers curled into his own. A python-like death grip wrapped around his left leg with both of yours. Naked. His shirt.

Oh fuck.

Realization was really hitting when he felt your soft, elongated sigh against his jaw, lips rubbing the scarred texture of his skin. The fascinating texture you couldn't get your cold fingers off of last night, even when he let you flip positions, in hopes it would lessen this touchy, needy state of yours. Nikto only achieved the opposite. You grasped at his fingers for support, hips rolling as you whimpered, letting him muffle your explicit sounds with his finger tips pressing to your lips, mesmerized by how effortlessly soft your skin was.

He was staring at you like he loved you.

And maybe you were just really drunk, lost by the feeling of his cock bruising your pretty cunt just to break entrance; followed by far too many orgasms to clear through the spilled word dictionaries in your brain. Whatever it was, you drew to a reckless conclusion. You slurred a kiss into his palm, whispering how much you loved him. A soft prayer he would stay until you woke up because he was just “so fucking hot” and you “wanted to make out with him again.”

Didn’t even fight back when he just shushed you and hid your face in his chest, desperate to not let you feel the boiling heat that surfaced in his face.

Too much for an exhausted man like himself. Couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, relishing in your sweet scent with the hint of smoke from the incense you burned. Smoke used to terrify Nikto, remind him of harsher times. Would make his heart throb and his body tremble - and yet the scent from you made him want to trace the vertebrae of your spine until you swatted at him like a small, feral cat.

The rigid sensation his dry fingertips mapped made the loud thoughts in his head blur away - even if just momentarily. The several voices which once ran rampant and rebellious within his darkest mind caverns had finally slowed. A single thought running through his mind as he curled the soft locks of your hair between his finger tips, tightening the grip and watching it feather down.

"How soft."

Not realizing Nikto had spoken his thoughts aloud, he was genuinely surprised when you finally stirred awake, a curious gaze in your eyes and a groggy "mhm?" making it's way out of your sigh. Poor man, cuddling you like you had his family in a room downstairs, eyes wide with fright, and his heart beat picked up pace. It surprised you, confused you, yet you just did your best not to scare the wild man that bubbled in his mind.

Buried your face back into his chest, kissing against his soft muscle. Biting a soft, pink hickey that flushed easily and licking away your own drool. Eyes glancing up from behind your lashes as you felt his body settle just a bit. Maybe if you were a little less in love with the big muscles and puppy, blue eyes, you would've taken his secure tighten around your body as a sign that he was about to dedicate his entire life to you. But you didn't - just let your eyes flutter shut and let your head plop back between his muscled breasts.

tagging friends :)) @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777

[shoukiko]

Hi, you can keep this unanswered and not post it, but I want to help you understand the thought behind some of the points in your criticism post. Before I start I want to apologise if I come off as blunt and rude, that's not my intention and I'll try my best to show my tone as unthreatening but I'm autistic and not a native English speaker, which complicates things lol

*general you used throughout the ask

First, I want to start with this: they all are part of the army. You don't need to dig much to see you'll rarely see a "morally upstanding" person in the army, be it because they're cheaters, abusers, compliant with all that or they're (insert -ist/-phobe category here). UK military spouses are 3 times more likely to experience intimate partner violence (IPV). I'm not saying the COD characters need to be written like that, but it wouldn't be "unrealistic" if we take real life statistics into account.

Second, and maybe the most important thing, everyone writes COD characters OOC. The majority of the active fandom on Tumblr and tiktok have seen gifs and 10min out of context clips from the game at best. It's to be expected to not frequently find something actually in character for a lot of the guys. Especially with characters that are just operators like König, Nikto and Krueger. In their case everything is and isn't OOC at the same time because we just... Don't know these characters. We lack characterisation past maybe 1-3 traits about them. I'd argue that's why the fandom liked König so much, other than being masked, he's the perfect paper doll! You can dress him up in whatever characterisation you want and it probably won't contradict his canon (because he barely has one and what he has is quickly misinterpreted (anxiety disorder turning into shyness for example)).

Now specifically on your "How are you going to hc a victim as the abuser?" - simple, whether you like to accept it or not is up to you, but it's not far fetched for victims to become abusers later in life. Just look at serial killers statistics - 74% of US serial killers were psychologically abused and 42% were physically abused as children and later in life followed a similar pattern brought to an extreme. Or on the other hand, a tamer example would be generational trauma because that's how we get that (grandparent was abused and because that's all they know, they implement it in bringing up their child who, for the same reason, implements it in bringing up the grandchild and so on).

The final thing I want to say is, it's good to block people who you don't vibe with. Doesn't matter if it's because they wrote something that personally disturbed you or you simply don't like their blog theme or you see them too often in the tag. Personally curating your experience is key in fandom, utilise the tools Tumblr has given us. Of course as you and others have mentioned that's impossible without some assistance from the other side. Tagging is extremely important (tagging with the correct words without censoring!!! Or the filter won't catch! Rape, noncon, incest ✅; r@pe, n*nc*n, 1nc*st ✖️✖️).

I hope this isn't too messy or long aaaa

I really appreciate you taking the time to type this up and actually speak to me about this, your input is very appreciated. /gen

I do think I could've done better on that post since I wrote it in the heat of the moment, all characters are written OOC and it was ignorant of me to say

"Maybe read the characters backstories and actually take their past into consideration because you guys kinda look dumb for making these characters so OOC."

I hope ya'll can really take the time to see my POV, I did not mean. any harm, I've come across some gross things, but blocking and filtering tags so much as begun to be tiring.

My main issue is tagging, without tagging I am left with getting triggered by random posts because the first few sentences may include something on my trigger list.

That's all I want and also what a lot of other people want.

Writing is meant for anyone and everyone, a form of art and perhaps a for of therapy.

Please tag your work, you are not the only person on the internet.

Thank you for reading!

[keysorsomething]

Dude the thought of rodion upgrading from hyena uncle to actually uncle is so cute to me like he is definitely the fun uncle, assuming he’s like an uncle to niktos kids,

if the kids are about to get in trouble rodion will give a quick “it was my idea blame me” no need to ever worry about finding a baby sitter for date nights rodion will happily spend time with his niece/nephew and of course Sputnik, those kids and hyena will be spoiled rotten by rodion, type of uncle to throw kid up in the air and catch them vibe yk?, will gladly play dress up or practice sports

But yea idk if you wanna expand on this more and give your thoughts but it’s a very cute idea I wanted to share⭐️

This is so real

Rodion is the first person to visit, as soon as he's allowed to. He swears his heart stops the first time he holds his new niece/nephew, even though that's not his kid. He just can't wait to be the adult in the situation. He's the youngest in the spetsnaz, he'd still be sitting at the kid's table to most of them, but he finally gets to feel genuinely responsible.

Once the kid is older, he's the first person to be greeted when there's multiple visitors over. He always spends the whole visit running around, playing with the kids. Anything they want really. Hide-and-seek, tag, marco-polo, Mario Bros, whatever. Even as he comes to get a drink or a snack, he has one of them hanging off of his arm.

Nikto never snaps at them to leave him alone, because he knows that's how Rodion wants it.

It is incredibly funny to come home to see such a masculine man in a dress and a face of sheer, poor-quality kid's make-up after a late dinner date night, though

[izzyovercoffee]

Prompt number: 03. “Now? Now you listen to me?” Fandom: Knights of the Old Republic II Rating: T Warnings/Tags: uhh violence appropriate to kotor, ask to tag Summary: Bao-dur and Atton have a disagreement during a fire fight, and the Exile’s temper gets the better of her/them. Notes: This is probably OOC but at this point this late in fictober I really just want to finish all the prompts and leave time for NaNo prep sooooo this is q’d and don’t judge me? ty

##. he’s never paid for a drink in his life and he isn’t about to start now

  Nothing like blaster fire coming from every direction to wake a soul up first thing in the morning. 

“What did you do?” 

“Hey,” Atton snapped as he ducked behind another container. “It wasn’t me this time.” 

From one of the many shipping containers stacked atop one another, Atton could practically feel the disbelief through the comms. “Right.” 

“No, he’s telling the truth,” a softer spoken voice cut through between them. Atton looked over to his right and up one level---Bao-dur peaked around cover. “It was me.” 

“Bao---” Cut off by the sound of blaster fire against something hard near the Exile. 

A spark of something---anger, maybe, or jealousy---burned in Atton’s chest. Her tone never took its edge against Bao-dur, not like it did with him. Even when he’s the one who fucked up, this time.

Force. He hated that feeling. 

“Well, whatever you did,” Atton snapped, “it looks like you pissed off everyone down here.” 

“Just the two gangs,” Bao-dur said, placidly, as if he commented on the weather and not that the three of them stayed pinned down in precariously unstable towers of shipping containers. Atton had the benefit of being on the ground, at least---if he could even call that a benefit. 

“Oh good,” Atton’s tone twisted with his irritation, the dry sarcasm whinging his words. “You united them. Check that one off the list.” 

“I suppose I should have slept the day away, instead,” Bao-dur replied, the calmest jab lobbed at Atton he’d ever heard. He’d be impressed, if he wasn’t about to get his head shot off. 

“Constructive suggestions, please,” the Exile hissed.

“No, no,” Atton said, blaster hugged to his chest as he waited for a break in the however-many that wanted to kill him first, “Continue, Bao-dur. Just get it off your chest.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bao-dur replied as he stared directly down at Atton, and locked eyes with him even across the distance. “There’s nothing more constructive than gambling away our credits in Pazaak at the casino.” 

Atton’s eyes narrowed. 

“Because getting our heads shot off in the middle of the night is so much better?” 

Bao-dur pulled out a sphere that glinted in the low light, and lobbed it over the edge of the container he crouched behind. The ground shook with the explosion, and Atton took the opening in the lull of blaster fire. He whipped out of cover, nailed one-two-three Nikto between the eyes, and dove behind cover as the gang recouped. 

Great. Only about thirty more to go.

“At least I was---”

“You might as well throw the Exile off the tower,” Atton snapped.

“You know what,” the Exile hissed over their comms, “Great idea.”

“What?”

“What?”

Both Bao-dur and Atton looked up, to watch as a blur of armor and repurposed robes cut through the dark inner environment of Nar Shaddaa’s broken Refugee District. 

The air lit up and burned in the activation of two bronze blades, and she disappeared out of sight. 

She listened to him.

Now. Of all times.

Screams followed, and blaster fire redirected to inside the area where they’d come from before, and Atton vaulted out of cover without looking first. He could tell Bao-dur followed close behind, even as he ran into the smoking remains of the grenade the engineer had lobbed just a moment before. 

Acting on instinct, he fired into the smoke to the left of him. Hit someone, Kept running. Fired to the right and ducked. Metal pinged overhead. The smoke clouded everything---with an eerie, blue-gray glow that followed in his wake. Bao-dur’s arm lit the way, if it could be called that. 

But as they tumbled out the end of the entry tunnel container, the smoke filtering out above them and into passably-clean air, they found…

The Exile---a little charred around the edges and furious, hair a mess as if she’d been dragged kicking and screaming out of bed.

Technically, they all had been, but she, uh. 

She made it look good.

And then she spun and lifted one saber sharply up to the both of them. 

“Whatever your problems are with each other,” she growled, low, with the bronze saber illuminating the otherwise light-less ceiling-less container full of smoking bodies, “Work. It. Out.” 

Her blades withdrew back into their hilts. The muddled dark fell over the three of them, broken only by the glow of Bao-dur’s arm. The bubbling crisp that often followed the wake of lightsaber use on flesh cut through the silence with a sickening pull on his memories. Atton turned over numbers on cards in his head. 

“Where are you going?” Bao-dur’s voice cut through the fog, and he realized the Exile navigated around them, and back into the smoke.

“I don’t have time to mediate this,” her voice echoed over the comms. “I need to take a walk.” 

“A walk?” Atton asked. “Where?”

No answer. 

Pain spiked through his hand. He looked down---realized he gripped his blaster too hard, and holstered it. 

“I---”

“No,” Atton interjected as he turned towards him. “No. I don’t want to be an adult about this.” 

Bao-dur only stared at him with muted silence---as unreadable as the day they met. 

Atton pushed a hand through his own hair---already a mess made messier by his frustration and the sweat of the fight. “I need a drink.” He looked for the exit---one not filled with smoke. “You’re buying.”

“I’m not buying,” Bao-dur said, but followed him all the same. 

She listened to me. Atton didn’t know how to feel about that---considering how stupid listening to him was in the moment. Shit.