zvezda-writer

[zvezda-writer]

Why can I not find any Nikto stickers?????? Does anyone know where I can buy some adorable Nikto art? Stickers, keychains, art prints I'm open to pretty much any medium. If not I guess I'll have to overcome my inability to draw to do it myself

[zvezda-writer]

Sometimes aftercare with Nikto looks like-

Absolute darkness. He turned off the lights and shut the windows the moment you first started reaching for him. Its silent, yet he usually makes most the noise.

"Well? Lightheaded? Dehydrated? Tell me", he'll usher when he forces you to stare at where he would be in the darkness. You can barely make out any shapes but he can see. He can feel. He knows.

He's breathing hard, just finished and already cupping your cheeks. Checking in on you first after he heard a gasp of pain from his hold. His mind quickly discovers the problem as one of his hand angles to rub at your hip. Taking in your gasps quietly in devotion.

"Better?", soft

He's so soft like this. Focused on you, you, you. Just you. You can nod in the dark and he will see it. No need to make a sound darling, he's always watching.

And when he thinks its enough to soothe your wound he'll curve around you like a snake. Covering you from front and back as he pushes you up against the wall of pillows just to huddle up with you. Convenient.

[zvezda-writer]

how it feels to wash your hair and brush your teeth and have clean clothes on

[zvezda-writer]

I'm in deep you guys.

[zvezda-writer]

tap out. pt ii.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team—his family—sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[zvezda-writer]

i dont know if this is offensive but

i'm so jealous of ppl who are labeled as "concerning" and actually get cared for. like , do i have to get worse so i can finally be labeled as that, then be cared about too?

[zvezda-writer]

⭐Svezda's masterlist!⭐

Nikto

Mafia!Nikto part 1 - part 2

Weird!Nikto x Weird!Reader

Konig

Alpha! Konig x Omega!Reader part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ex-boyfriend!Simon x Sex Worker!Reader

[zvezda-writer]

Ex-boyfriend!Simon x Sex Worker!Reader

How big was your surprise when the door of your client's apartment opened and there was Simon, your ex.

Well, yes, it has been around ten years since you saw each other and he definitely had a glow up from the gaunt, funny boy you met back in the shitty neighborhood you two lived in Manchester. Same neighborhood, same type of family, same struggles growing up. You two had everything in common and could've ended up getting married and living in a one bedroom apartment in the same old neighborhood.

But he left.

Without goodbye, without explaining, he just left. You found out by his brother that he had joined the military. You were devastated, to say the least.

You stayed behind, having to take care of your ill mother since your father was a drunk bastard. Until he died when you were nineteen, killed during a bar fight. With the employment rate near to zero in the area you lived in, your solutions were either prostitution or drug dealing, and you refused to be involved with drugs.

That's how you ended up in the sex business. The money was good and you and your mother moved to London, and you started getting richer clients. That's how you ended up there, face to face with the man who broke your heart when you were only sixteen.

You two stared at each other in dead silence for a couple of seconds until you decided that he probably didn't even remember you, so you just acted normal, like you didn't remember him too. The money was too good to reject it.

–You're the one who called me, handsome?

You asked, your voice sickly sweet. He didn't answer, of course. At least not with words.

Without saying anything, he cupped your face with his big, callused hands, attacking your lips with his with deep, burning passion, the taste of his lips heavy with a mix of whiskey and tobacco. The taste had changed, but the way he kissed you, like a starved man, was the very same since you were both teenagers.

But, oh, he remembered you. More than you could've expected. And the moment he saw you standing right in front of the door, the feelings he had butried so deep came back to life in a explosion, leaving him blind with passion and longing.

After a moment he finally let go of your lips, pulling away just enough to get some air, his hands never leaving your face as he whispered in a raspy, rough voice who almost made you moan.

–Can't belive you're bloody real... Ten years, bunny. It's been fucking ten years.

And your heart stopped. He remembered. And hearing him call you the petname he had used with you so many times in the past made your heart twist in knots, eyes burning with tears that you refused to let fall. Your makeup was too expensive for it.

–I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for not saying goodbye.

He murmured, kissing you again and again as he pulled you inside, shutting the door close without letting go of you.

Each kiss, each touch, everything about him and his presence was an explosion of feelings and sensations you couldn't describe, ecstasy cursing through your veins at each pump of your heart, lungs suffocating with the smell of his cologne at each uneven breathing, brain melting with every sweet word that left his mouth, body shuddering with every thrust of his divine sculpted dick.

–I'm never letting you go again, bunny...–another thrust –Gonna marry you...–another thrust –Gonna fill you up and make you a mommy, yeah?

All you could do was nod, your brain barely registering his words as he overwhelmed you with pleasure and love, and even if what he said wasn't true, it didn't matter at the moment. At that moment, you were both the old Y/N and Simon again, hiding inside his father's old truck at night to have a moment alone.

Your mind turned into a puddle as an overwhelming, destructive orgasm hit her, your warm and soaked cunt clenching and throbbing around his cock, and after a few more thrusts he made his words come true, filling you up to the brim.

Sure, at the moment you didn't actually believe he would marry you and take care of you, but then six months later you found yourself sitting on a comfortable armchair, hand resting on top of your round belly as you watched the most handsome man in the world build your daughter's crib in her pink room, under your inspection of course. Guess he took his promises way too seriously because after the first encounter in two months you were married and moving to a beautiful house in a nice, calm neighborhood, and everyday he made sure to remind you that you didn't have to lift a finger, he was your man, he's supposed to take care of you, right?

[zvezda-writer]

Alpha!Nikto who feels like a failure as an alpha. As a result of his time with Mr. Z, his scent gland is damaged. Heavy scarring covering the area, making his scent hard to find. While it's helpful for the job, it's not helpful in attracting a mate. He’s getting older, he wants to settle down. Maybe have a pup or two. None of the other operators of KorTac know his want to find a mate, why would he bother to tell them? Why do they need to know? 

Until a scouting mission with you. An easy mission, really just sitting and waiting but in the heat of the sun? He's absolutely sweltering in his gear, his scent only truly clinging to his sweat. His scent is wonderfully masculine, smokey and warm like a bonfire, promising warmth and comfort. He doesn't say a word about his own scent, thinking you don't notice it, but it's hard to resist sliding closer to him. It’s hard to tame the urge to investigate further. 

Maybe he’d let you, all you'd have to do is ask…

[zvezda-writer]

[zvezda-writer]

Well, who wants to play again? Check my bio for participating, the game takes place on my Twi/X~

[zvezda-writer]

*walks into american followers bedrooms* *in gentle voice* hows it going champ

[zvezda-writer]

I saw this cosplayer of Nikto on Instagram and omfg. THIS is how I imagine Mafia!Nikto. I'm shocked.

[zvezda-writer]

Ghost: How do I make a date really romantic Price: Be mysterious Ghost: Right *later* Y/N: Where are we going Ghost: None of your fucking business

[zvezda-writer]

I saw @evilfrogcereal29's post which led me to @just-some-user-hunny's idea about a werewolf Nikto and so!! Here we go!! I would love to design him some tactical gear when I'm not so bogged down at work... CW: violence/dark themes in HCs under the cut

Filed, blunt teeth (from use, by captors, or himself? Who knows). It makes his killings brutally inefficient - it's no quick bite to the jugular but a steady crushing, ripping, tearing. His maw unusually large, kept wide by scar tissue that pulls at the corners of his mouth. A broken jaw with bone that juts and doesn't quite align as it should. Scars from past captors and encounters with enemies, many made to answer the question, "Just how good is a werewolf's healing factor?"

Shifting is already a painful process - bones break, skin burts, muscle frays and re-knits. His are made worse by the heavy scarring, an already disfigured face morphing , somehow, into something much worse.

Torn nare makes his nose whistle a little if he's not careful with his breathing - he has purposefully trained himself to be silent when needed, and as a byproduct, has incredible lung capacity and stamina.

Only slightly larger than the average werewolf, he's no hulking behemoth of a specimen - but his visage more than makes for a terrifying opponent.

[zvezda-writer]

boyfriend!simon riley and american!bimbo(ish)!reader

simon loves his ditzy, american girlfriend. how you make him repeat his words, sounding out the syllables because his accent's so thick, and voice so deep. though he thinks it's just an excuse for him to talk right into your ear, his voice several octaves deep, a rumbling sound low in his chest.

he loves your little american terms, the differences in your cultured upbringings in terms of slang, and lingo.

"'s futball, lov'," he'd murmur, a beer in the hand of the arm slung around the back of the old leather couch as you watched the game. his other arm would be across your shoulders, fingers creeping up your neck as he caressed your soft skin and lengthy collarbone subconsciously.

he'd huff a chuckle if he heard you mumble 'soccer' in return.

but it wouldn't be too long until he heard his own words integrated into the vocabulary, but only when you weren't laid on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders as he plowed his hips into your slick cunt.

your sweet, american accent just mewling his name so nicely from your lips, harsh contrast to the stinging pain your claws left in his scarred back.

it only earned you grunts in return, followed by a particularly harsh thrust, lewd, flithy sounds of flesh on flesh.

but pretty, pretty music to his ears after you'd been fucked stupid, a cock-drunk babbling mess. pretty american girl.

he'd call you a good girl for calling it 'football' instead of 'soccer,' and eat you out too.

[zvezda-writer]

you know what? Fuck you. *turns your strong and stoic and serious character into a crying, traumatized, whimpering, curled up mess in the floor*