#nikolai cod x reader

[imaginedreamwrite]

2 with sugar daddy nikolai

Nikolai was quick to grapple your hips and drag you into his lap as you tried to slip by him. His fingers dug into your hips as you squirmed, his brown eyes shamelessly devoured your image in his lap. He leaned in and brushed his lips against the side of your neck, breathing in the perfume he gifted you for your birthday.

“Running from me, Котенок?” His accent elicited a sudden and airy sigh, not just because you had been caught but because he was going to keep you here until he was satisfied. “You think you can run from me, hmm?”

You turn your head and look over your shoulder, minimal space between you two creating a buzz of electricity between you two. It sparks and pops, and your heart begins to race when his left hand slips down to the end of your skirt. His fingers brush against your skin, the cool metal of his rings make you squirm again, restless as you can feel the warmth and hardening bulge beneath you.

“I wasn’t running,” you exhaled your excuse and made quick work of crawling off his lap but he didn’t let you go far. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer, this time adjusting your body to straddle him. Your feet hooked under the legs of the chair he was sitting on, your hands rested against his broad chest.

“What were you doing, маленький??” He leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours to breathe you in. “What are you running around like a little мышь for?”

“I was looking at tickets to the Maldives.” Your fingers trailed along the edge of his shirt, dipping beneath the material to feel along his broadly defined chest.

“The Maldives, hmm?” His fingers run along the back of your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt and nearly to your ass. “How much is this going to cost me?”

You bit your tongue and remained silent, squirming relentlessly as he gripped the globes of your ass to yank you closer. He flexed his fingers, feeling you pressed against him just as he wanted.

“I just thought it would be nice-”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Nikolai silences you with verbally and then physically, leaning forward to press his lips against yours, using your surprise to his advantage. You whimper and moan against his kiss, melting into every touch of his hands, rendered weak by his affection.

“My little dorogaya wants to go the Maldives?” Nikolai slipped his hand beneath the band of your panties, stroking your bare flesh with his large fingers, teasing you with his hands and voice. “You let me handle all this, da?”

“Da.” You answer him with a nod of your head, almost bashful over being caught trying to do this on your own. Nikolai croons to you affectionately, still touching your ass and thighs, still teasing you about what was going to come.

“Good girl, Котенок.”

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: dubcon, manipulation, babytrapping?

You ask Alpha!Gaz to spend your heat with you because he’s so chill. He’s always treated you just like one of the guys— since day one. Never once mentioned your designation, because he doesn’t care about that kind of thing, right? So when you ask him why his teeth are at your throat he smiles and laughs like you’re being silly, and says “I’ve been courting you for as long as I’ve known you, love.”

You ask Alpha!Soap to spend your heat with you because he’s so promiscuous. He’s slept with everyone on base, no strings attached, no broken hearts— obviously he’s a man who knows how to keep it casual, right? But when you’re pressed against him, stuck on his knot, he’s rubbing your stomach and asking “How many pups ye want, bonnie? Ah was thinkin’ we’d have a proper big family.”

You ask Alpha!Ghost to spend your heat with you because he doesn’t really seem to like anyone. Not the type to form attachments. Won’t give any part of himself to anyone, right? But he keeps you prone and pinned with his massive body, oriented so he can watch the door, grunting “You’re mine now, understand? Anyone who tries to get between me and my mate s’gonna end up torn apart.”

You ask Alpha!Price to spend your heat with you because he’s your commanding officer. He’s always been calm, cool, and completely professional with you. He wouldn’t compromise the structure of the team over some biological event, right? But he’s panting, tongue soothing over the fresh mark in your neck, telling you he’ll have a talk with your landlord once your heat is over about breaking your lease. “Gotta get you moved in with me, darl’. Pups’ll need more space to run around. What color do y’want the nursery?”

You ask Alpha!Nikolai to spend your heat with you because you trust him, but you don’t exactly have a relationship. You work with him some of the time, and he’s a good man, but he lives across the globe. He wouldn’t disrupt his globetrotting lifestyle to settle down with some omega he barely knows, right? But he’s cooing honeyed words in your ear that you can’t understand, one hand pawing at your abdomen while the other is at your throat, rubbing your gland and bringing the blood to the surface in preparation for his bite. “Imagine the look on John’s face— when he sees I’ve poached his prettiest little sergeant for myself…”

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Estranged Husband Nikolai

Inspired by @pricegouge 's post about ex husband Nikolai (they're different I promise)

You got married young, too young but he was a stability you needed at the time. A financial stability - within the first year of marriage you had a nice house, a nice car, a nice allowance to go shopping for whatever you wanted and a very, very nice ring to tie it all together.

It wasn't until you realized you spent more nights alone than with Nikolai that all those nice things lost their sparkle. Between arguments you stowed away your allowance to save up for a divorce. You knew he'd fight it out just to be petty.

And he did. You moved out into your own flat and within an hour he flooded your phone with texts and calls. An attorney you called had to decline due to Nikolai contacting them first. You watched as your savings slowly drained.

One night you finally broke and called him back for the first time in months, begging for him to just sign the papers. You'd return everything; the car, the clothes, the jewelry, your ring. You just wanted to move on.

"No."

He agreed to give you an allowance again, let you live in your "little flat" and live how you wanted but the two of you had made a promise and he was a man of his word. Until death.

Several years later and your ring sat at the bottom of your jewelry box. You had a career, friends, a few dates here and there - all the stability you craved in your youth. Nikolai still loomed over you.

His visits were infrequent and random. He still acted like the two of you were in the honeymoon phase. Making you breakfast in the morning, bringing flowers with him, making you come over and over.

You almost fall for it. You think about letting him back in your life, trying this marriage thing again. You're older now. You have a life outside of him.

He thinks about it too. Lips against your ear as the head of his cock brushes against your womb, "maybe a baby will fix us?"

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

P.s. this is pre-relationship, when your feelings are still untold...some of the guys are still awkward and some are not :')

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄

Visiting Price in his office was a common occurance. Sometimes you brought a drink with you, other times you just brought your old tired self.

This was one of those times.

And without looking up, he patted his knee and you hesitated. But only for a moment because as soon as you saw his pen stop scratching on the paper, you stalked over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, trying not to think about the goddamn awful day you had. You knew John would want to talk about it when you were ready. It's one of the things you love about him. He wants to help you no matter what.

As if on Instinctive John wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you in closer. Your face was flushes against his neck and your hands cling to his other arm.

John is so warm, and makes you feel so safe. Everyday is a battle for you; because you just want to fall into his arms and kiss him until you can no longer breathe.

But you can't, because he's your superior and you don't want to jeapordise anything.

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

Wide-eyed and trying not to move. Even his breathing becomes shallower. It's lucky he's wearing a mask otherwise there would've been a bright red Ghost for everyone to see.

Continues to death glare the others, placing a firm finger in front of his lips. Reminding them to SHUT UP.

No one is allowed to talk when you are asleep in the common area. On Ghost's literal orders.

But he never thought you would actually fall asleep on him.

It was a nice feeling. One that made him giddy inside. Like ... he had been chosen for something important.

And maybe he had. This could be a way for your body to tell Ghost that "I WANT YOU!" But unless you actually tell him, he isn't going to get it - or believe it.

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊

Warmth travels to his cheeks as he realises that you've practically clung yourself to him and fallen asleep.

He had taken you to the movies because you had some spare time on your hands and wanted to feel like normal people for once.

But halfway through, drowsiness had overcome you, and consciousness faded away.

It was easy to fall asleep next to Gaz, whose smell and gentle heartbeat felt like heaven.

You hadn't wondered if this was going to far, you trusted Gaz enough to tell you if it was. But he would never tell you that.

Because there was no 'too far.' He would do anything for you. He just didn't know how to get you to see that.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

Oh our sweet boy Soap, he would become so goddamn giddy. His cheeks turn red as he moves ever so slowly to look at you.

Watching movies together was a common occurance. Your place or his, it didn't matter. Even the movie didn't matter - though you both argued over it relentlessly. It was a way for you both to spend more time together. A reason to say why you were late for ___

Your head had dropped a little and his eyebrows flew upwards. He would never live it down if you fell straight into his crotch area.

So he moved his arm around your shoulders and let you turn fully around to hug him.

Your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent.

"Tha gaol agam ort," he whispers into your hair. You only barely heard it. It means (I love you).

He only ever says it when you cannot hear him. But litte did he know you were catching on to certain Gaelic words. Maybe not at that moment, but you had better hearing than he thought you did.

𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

Did not know what to do, and in the midst of his panic, he had accidentally wriggled his shoulder. Which meant you curled up on his lap.

"Oh maus..." Konig whispered, afraid that you would wake up and freak out. But if he truly believed that, then he hadn't been paying attention to your friendship at all.

After ten minutes of the movie playing but Konig couldn't stop staring down at your curled form in his lap, he slowly and gently moved the hair from your face. Stroking your cheeks, running his fingers over your nose and forehead.

It was right then that he fell in love with you. Truly fell in love with you.

A monster and his love. That's how Konig saw the two of you.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈

Charming, suave, flirtacious and utterly awkward when it comes to you.

He makes as much spare time as he can to spend it with you. And curling up on the couch seemed to be the best idea for today.

His large hands wrap around your form and pull you closer.

"Иди спать, малышка" (go to sleep little one) he says quietly, watching you intently as you drift into a deep slumber.

Maybe there is a gun wedged between him and the armrest, but he knows his lifestyle, and how many people want to kill him.

But that is nothing compared to spending time with you.

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍

Coughs; yes he actually coughs and a few times at that. Why did he cough? He has no clue. Was he trying to wake you up? See if you accidentally forgot he was there?

In all honesty he was panicking - this wasn't the type of friendship that you had. It was all banter and poking fun at each other.

Someone actually asked if Keegan was being bullied a few weeks ago.

He snorted and just walked away. It was probably the best thing that recruit could've said.

It was after a long mission and you barely had time to undress from your military clothes, when Keegan barged in and held up two family sized bars of chocolate. "As a thank you for having my back out there, kid."

You couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach. But saving face was what you two did. So you took both of the offerings and laid down in bed. "If you're having all the chocolate, I'm not leaving" "I'm not giving it back Keegan." "Looks like you have a bunk buddy then."

And the tall man climbed into bed beside you awkwardly trying to get comfortable. "Jackass," you mumbled. But a slight smile was on your lips. And within an hour you fell asleep.

When you woke up, Keegan was practically ontop of you, melted chocolate on his lips and slight snoring coming from his nose.

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒

"What the fuck," he mutters to himself as you rest your head on his shoulder on the plane.

You had both been placed on a mission for months and now that it was over, you were exhausted (to say the very least).

The whole time you were together, there had always been bickering. Especially when you were undercover as a married couple.

So you were used to the hostility of Graves (even though he barely had any anymore when it came to you).

Hence, you were way too tired to give a shit. Honestly, if he were to wriggle you off, you would clutch his arm to keep him still.

But he didn't do that. Instead he feigns annoyance and rests his head against the back of his chair. His eyes flickering over to you every few seconds to see if you were okay (if that were to be brought up, he would say that he was looking out the window).

As the time went by, and you woke up, you found that Graves had found your hand and was clutching it.

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎

Sinks into you as well. His culture isn't so rigid as others. And showing affection means multiple things, but the main thing is that it means he cares.

Where your head lolled on his shoulder, he moved back on the couch, yawned, and pulled you down with him. Your sleeping head was rested gently against Ale's chest.

He knew about your feelings for him, and you knew about his, so this situation was awkward. He knew he had to step up and say something, but it had turned into a game of sorts. As if the first person who spoke up would lose.

But having you on his chest, smelling your hair, feeling the weight of your body on his, he decided that he would happily be the loser.

[captainpriceslilwife]

what hybrids i think the boys (tf141 + nikolai) would have because im a freak and cant stop thinking about it and YES they're boinking the hybrids! :))) <3 simon's is angsty though, so...yeah

Also the pics included are just to get a visual of the animal that the hybrid is based off of...they aren't in a relationship with like...actual animals. if i could draw i would've drawn the hybrid myself but unfortunately you'd just get a stick figure with two triangles coming out of it with a note on the side like ":) -> these are wings! <3" so here we are. use your imagination!

(edit: removed the 'keep reading' line :) you WILL read it and look at the pretty pictures i picked out...whether you want to or not)

john: ok, ok, ok....hear me out LISTEN !!!! cockatiel!hybrid. i know we all love cute fluffy hybrids but LISTEN TO ME!!! I used to have one growing up, and i can see it so perfectly oooh my god. They typically bond really well to one person and are snippy with everyone else, and i think john would absolutely love that. It makes him feel special - like he's needed. And he's always loved feeling needed, which is why he goes so above and beyond for his team. And now he has something to scratch that itch for him while he's at home.

Plus, he loves the way she sings and chirps for him - sometimes he'll even hum something around her just to hear her mimic him for the next couple of days. He soaks it up as much as he can when he's at home because he knows that when he's deployed to some hellish warzone halfway across the world, there won't be any birds singing. So even when his little hybrid keeps chirping the same tune over and over again, her feathers fluffing up as she begins to get on her own nerves - he can't bring himself to tell her to stop. And, sometimes, if his hybrid is depressed because he's leaving and he can't get her to cheer up (poor thing has separation anxiety), he'll sing a little bit with her. He never liked the sound of his own voice, but when he sees the way his birdie's face lights up and the way her head sways along with his tune, he melts right there on the spot. It'll always be the first thing he misses when he has to go away. And, yes, sometimes he finds himself singing quietly to himself when he's thinking about his little bird on his mission. Only Simon has ever heard it, and he doesn't breathe a word about it to anyone else - mainly because it reminded him of his mum when he was younger.

John's favorite thing, though, is helping her groom every night. He loves to run his fingers through her feathers, especially the tuft of long feathers that are always propped up on top of her head. He loves to watch his baby lean into his touch as he tries to smooth out her 'pretty crown', as he calls it. And when his fingers catch on a loose, stubborn feather that she can't get on her own? He's gently pulling it out while his other hand coaxes her muscles to relax as he coos softly at her. I know, I know it hurts...always such a good birdie for me though, huh? Pretty little thing...there we go. That feels better, doesn't it, love? And she always thanks him by bopping her forehead gently against his, and he can never stop himself from catching the movement with his lips to press a gentle kiss just beneath her crown.

And if his hands slip under her wings to rub little circles there? And her wings get all ruffled as she slowly gets worked up and turned on? Well, he's not just going to let his poor birdie suffer, now will he?

And it doesn't matter if he's fucking her in missionary or if he's got her mouth wrapped around his cock - his thumbs will always find their way to those pretty orange spots on her cheeks :) stroking them lovingly like he's not defiling his precious little bird. Always rewards her with some fancy birdseed at the end of it, though - let's her eat it right out of his hand.

kyle: another hear me out but....hold on! just picture it! hedgehog. DO NOT SCROLL AWAY FROM ME!!

Think about it. He's been wanting to get a hybrid for a while now, but he just can't seem to figure out what he wants. Everything just seems too...standard. Cats, dogs, birds? It's not really doing it for him. Plus he gets too sad when he goes to the hybrid facilities just to look, so he eventually stops going so he doesn't feel guilty.

But one day he's in the rec room trying to relax - key word: trying. The two recruits next to him just won't seem to shut up about their own hybrids they've got waiting for them at home. Kyle tries to zone them out as much as he can, but his ears perk up when he actually starts to listen to what they're saying.

I don't know, mate. I got one of those hedgehog hybrids - thought it'd be cool - but she's so fucking weird, man. She's always curling up in a ball or giving me this weird smile...it'd be fine if she'd let me fuck her, but she always runs away when I just try to touch her. Kyle is locked in on their conversation, and he doesn't even notice how hard he's clenching his fists until he hears the other recruit respond. Fucking get rid of her, mate. Don't she know that's what hybrids are for? Could throw her out on the street on those grounds.

So, of course our sweet Kyle taught both of those recruits a lesson in what hybrids are for :) nevermind the fact that Price had to sign a bunch of paperwork in order to keep him on the team. Turns out that beating two recruits with the help of Simon is frowned upon in the military. That's not important.

What's important is the fact that now he's got a little hedgehog hybrid all to himself. Tiny thing, too. She's the tiniest out of all of the hybrids he's seen with his teammates. And, ever the prince charming, he makes sure to give her a life that scumbag could never even dream of.

She becomes his favorite thing in the world. Spoils her absolutely rotten. All those weird quirks the recruits were complaining about? He swears he's never seen something so precious or perfect in his life. He'd do anything to put that 'weird' smile on her face - even went so far as to build her an enclosure in her own room, just so she can play around at night since she's nocturnal and he needs to sleep. But he absolutely loves when he's lying in bed and he hears her giggling to herself in the other room, only for her to come crawling into bed with him just before the sun comes up so she can cuddle with him before he leaves for work.

Yeah, turns out she does like to be touched - likes to be fucked, too - as long as she doesn't have some prick breathing down her neck to tell her how weird she is. It takes all of Kyle's willpower to not take a video of him pounding her sweet cunt just to send it to that idiot, but in the end he decides his sweet girl doesn't need to be shown off like that. Not when she curls up next to him and cuddles into his chest when they're done - chittering softly and smiling at him so sweetly that he swears he'll get a toothache. And when she murmurs her thanks for him? Telling him how happy she is that she's finally found someone who actually likes her? Yeah, he's keeping his sweet little pet all to himself.

johnny: little bunny!hybrid...we ALL know why. he's a freak and he needs something to match his stamina. but i do think he picks one of the bunny!hybrids who is more quiet (because poor johnny has always been drawn to the cold, stand-offish type ghost) and he has to coax her out of their shell before she gets comfortable enough for him to even think about pulling her into bed with him.

maybe she was hiding off to the side when he came to the facility looking for a new companion. everyone has always picked the other, more-affectionate bunnies, so she had kind of lost hope - doesn't even lift her head to see who is cooing softly at the other bunnies. But suddenly she feels a gentle hand stroking over her soft ears, and a soft murmur is pulling her away from her quiet solitude - aye, and who's this sweet, little angel? look at tha'...softest thing ah've ever felt...

And he takes her home that same day, even though she refuses to meet his eye and curls away from him every time he runs his fingers over her sensitive ears. He knows it'll take time to win her over, and despite popular belief, Johnny can be patient. Especially when he knows what kind of reward is waiting for him at the end ;)

So for the next couple of months (yes, months - he puts in WORK) he tries to gain her trust. Buying her special treats, handfeeding her the 'fancy lettuce', always backing off when she thumps her foot against the ground when he gets too handsy - he does everything he can to make his sweet coney happy. He even builds her a little nook that she can hide out in if she wants to get away from him. And by some miracle, that seems to make her grow more affectionate with him. He nearly explodes with joy when she comes out of her cubby to sit next to him on the couch while he's watching TV, and he swears he almost cries when her head rests against his shoulder and she asks him in a shy, quiet voice if he can massage her ears.

And all of his hard work finally pays off when he wakes up one morning, eyes still crusted over and bleary from sleep - only to look down and see his little bunny, completely naked, humping his leg like her life depends on it. Looks like all those lonely years at the facility finally caught up to the poor bunny and she just couldn't take it anymore.

Luckily for bun, he's just as pent up as she is! So both of them are very pleased when he's using her soft, floppy ears as handlebars to rut into her like a man possessed - and his favorite part is seeing how her fluffy, cotton tail grows more and more soaked with the combination of her slick and Johnny's cum :))))) he's licking it clean after

simon: dog!hybrid, but specifically a very hyper, very affectionate mutt - one that he didn't want. I think simon is the only one who never actively sought out a hybrid for himself. He thinks it's wrong to own something that seems so human, but his teammates can see how he clenches his jaw whenever he hears them talking about their little pets back home - and john always catches that look of longing that flashes in his eyes before he's quickly covering it up with the aloof demeanor he always uses as a shield.

But one day they've got a mission to raid a supposed 'hybrid-training facility'. Turns out they were running an illegal hybrid breeding ring, and they were putting the 'unsellable' mutts through cruel experiments and tests so they could figure out how to make even more hybrid babies to sell.

And that's when he sees her - a pretty little pup that's been through the ringer. Looking at her, he thinks that she's way too young to be having a litter of her own, but according to the chart that hangs next to her cage - she's already had three litters. There are no hybrid pups to be found though - just her in the cage, using her last bit of energy to wag her tail as she stares up at simon with hope in her pretty brown eyes. Turns out the breeders had taken all the pups when they ran, likely to set up shop somewhere else with a fresh set of merchandise.

Hey, sweetheart - he murmurs softly as he unlocks the cage, being as gentle and careful as he can as he scoops her up from beneath her arms - but she still cries softly as her sore body presses up against his. I know, love, I know...I've got ya. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, sweet girl.

And he's there with her through the whole process of recovering in the hospital - mainly because he doesn't have a choice. The poor pup whines whenever he tries to leave, and it makes his heart ache in a way he never thought was possible. Price is the one who encourages him to take some time off and 'get to know his new pet'.

And he does take that time off, but she's never just a pet to him. Not when he saw how she looked the day she finally worked up the courage to scoot closer to him on the couch, ears held back like she was waiting for him to yell at her for getting close, or how he's the only one she'll trust to rub her distended belly when she gets phantom aches (her body never did go back to normal after all those forced pregnancies - even her heats were few and far between now).

And honestly? He's the only one out of the guys who isn't trying to sleep with their hybrid. It isn't until over two years in that it finally happens, and only because she was going through a particularly rough heat. She's whining in pain like she did the very first day he met her, and he just can't take it. He's never been so gentle in his life, working her open as slowly as he can, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. But he never finds any. The only thing he sees staring back at him is love and trust that he never thought he'd deserve - but he's finally found it in those pretty brown eyes.

nikolai: kitty!!!!! kitty!hybrid aalllllll the way. siberian cat to be specific. he almost got a bengal cat!hybrid because he likes having access to exotic things, but he felt too guilty about the thought of keeping it in the cold, russian tundra he lives in - so he found a kitty that was built for the cold!

And he's so grateful that he did. Because he is absolutely, 110% enamored with the fluffy, soft fur that adorns his hybrid's body along with her striking blue eyes. She very quickly becomes, quite possibly, the most spoiled thing on the planet. You better believe he's slapping a (very real, very expensive) diamond collar on his hybrid by the end of their first day together.

She's always prancing around his house with her fluffy tail bobbing behind her, chin held high like she's the goddamn queen of sheba - and to Nikolai? She might as well be.

He loves playing with his little kitty - watching her eyes grow big as he shines a laser pointer on the couch beside her, making her jump up from her previously cozy position to catch it before he moves the little red dot out of reach. She'll do it for about three minutes, but she's always too lazy to keep going, so he just laughs and settles for rubbing the soft tufts of fur on her belly. You are spoiled little girl, eh? I wonder whose fault that is... Though, she does love to jump out from behind corners to try and scare him, and he always pretends to jump for her sake, just so he can hear her giggle as her scoops her up and promises to punish her for being such a naughty kitty.

He's got a special spot in his hangar just for his little kotenok since he can't bear to part with her for too long. it's got a million toys and cushions and fur blankets - even a heating pad just to keep her warm - but she still always slinks her way over him while he tinkers away on whatever he's working on that day. but he never scolds her - he'll just let her curl up in his lap while he reaches his arms around her to keep working. and he'll press a soft kiss to her head every couple of minutes, just to hear her trill quietly as she lifts her head closer to him. It always pulls a deep chuckle from within him, and those vibrations lead to his hybrid pushing her paws against his chest to march as gently as she can. She doesn't want to distract her owner when he's doing something important, but sometimes her sharp claws still catch on his shirt and scratch his chest on accident. He'll never let her feel guilty about it, though - he's honored, actually. Always leaving his shirt a bit unbuttoned to display his scratches to everyone like they're a trophy.

And if him and his hybrid are together around literally anyone else? Everyone is uncomfortable. Because why is he hand-feeding his hybrid anchovies while she sits in his lap during a meeting? And why does her big, fluffy tail keep brushing against his face while they both giggle and whisper quietly to each other? Why is he scratching at the base of her tail? Is she licking the leftover juice from his fingers? Oh, they're about to - oh, there go their clothes! Ok, time to go- no, Johnny, you cant watch.. Meeting's over. You'll have to see yourself out.

Also, he always leaves that collar on when he's fucking his kitty just so he can see it glinting in the light as he makes her bounce and mewl softly - and if he wants her to be a bit louder? He's tugging at that fluffy tail until she forgets what a pretty, fancy cat she is and starts yowling like a stray in heat.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would LOVE to hear more of your thoughts on Nikolai with a Daddy kink because I'm stupidly weak for big scary Russian dudes and you do the words well

Nikolai is only big and scary when he needs to be. (And I do do the words well, don't I?)

mdni (gn!reader)

Loves a good power dynamic, especially a consensual one. It's simple and to the point. He loves it when his partner is completely submissive, but a little bad behavior doesn't hurt either.

Not entirely into the full roleplay aspect, but does enjoy hearing you call him "daddy" as much as he enjoys calling you his "baby" or "little girl/boy." Pet names are a must for him. And just imagine him calling you a pet name with that accent...*swoon*

Obey him, and he'll reward you (sexually and financially). Disobey, and get a punishment (or two)

An absolute soft dom. He prefers to praise over degrading you. As much as he wants to be dominant, he also wants you to feel protected and safe with him. Also, he's Russian. He firmly believes it is his responsibility to look after you in all ways.

Totally open to using toys and props of all kinds.

Very verbal in and out of the bedroom. Behind closed doors, he's telling you how good you are while giving him head and how pretty his cum looks dripping out of you, to complimenting your choice in outfit. The man has many talents.

A big ole' tease. He loves building the anticipation of sex, especially threatening to withdraw sex when you're being naughty. It pushes the boundaries of control, and you both get off on it.

Will completely take care of you financially. Want new clothes? A wax? Hair done? Whatever. He's covering it. No problem.

As much as he pays your bills and buys you things, he also cares about your well-being.

Aftercare is perfect. Every. Time. No notes.

CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist

[kkusuka]

i haven't written anything for nikolai so you guys have no idea how much i need him. I WANNA FUCK ON HIM. anyway.

being an engineer for the SAS was not in your life plan, so being an SAS engineer working on a ex-soviet soldier's chopper while he less than subtly checks you out was even farther away from your plan, yet somehow that is exactly where you landed.

"ok, um-everything looks ok with the engine, so you should be all good to keep flying. just make sure you don't leave so much time between check-ups next time."

"ah, thank you, malyshka. i should take your number then, da? to call you about check-ups?" his grin is nothing less than shit-eating as he stalks closer to where you're standing.

and you're by no means the best person for this job, there are dozens of guys that have done this for years- you just got called in for the day-"oh! well, i'm uh not super goo with this stuff, you can just tell Mrs. Laswell and she can send one of the-"

"no malyshka, you've done so well for me today. i don't trust many people in my hangar, it has to be you. so your number?"

and you don't know if it's on purpose (it is) but nikolai manages to call you every time he fly’s back to base (it's like his little reward for making it back) because something has gone wrong with his helicopter (he keeps disconnecting random wires that won’t affect the actual helicopter but still needs his little malyshka attention to fix).

[pricegouge]

the erotic pin up thought but imagine nikolai tattooing his favourite pic and surprising his lover with it :3

he's already been away for two weeks when you get a text from an unknown number. you don't need the contact to discern who it is, anyway. in istanbul. things are running long. don't expect me back so soon. you're not expecting a reply when you tell him not to worry, to just keep himself safe, but you're delighted when you get one anyway.

>>You too, milaya.

he messages you at least once a day, just to check in. you've never been able to contact him like this while he's been on mission before and you don't want to ruin it by being too needy but the temptation of your phone lays heavy in your pocket all week. you'd hate to interfere but he makes it hard when he keeps up a slow, steady means of communication. you wonder about the mission, don't dare ask. it seems unlikely that he'd let himself be so distracted if it were something high stakes, though. it's possible he's been relegated to glorified taxi while bigger pieces make their moves and you can't help but sympathize when you picture him waiting around, dining in the quaint kind of cafes he'd never really seemed to find an appreciation for - at least, not on his own. he was always happy enough to take you but it had always been very clear where his interest lied, dark eyes trained on you even as he ordered. observant, filing away each little reaction he could pull from you with savory dishes and select deserts. you flatter yourself, imagining his patience breaking, just a little more each day, just enough to text you, earlier and earlier each day until two weeks have come and gone and you've basically fallen into a constant rapport.

you ask for pictures of the city and he obliges, little peeks into the life he's living while away. yet more evidence this is some bizarrely political mission he doesn't really need to be present for. you note when he moves locales a few times but he tactfully avoids telling you his location again. he stops sending you pictures altogether when you start guessing correctly.

so you start sending him pictures instead. they start out innocent enough, testing the limits of what you're allowed to say on this line. he shows gives no intent to stop you when you show him the view from the summit of a local hike, nor even when you snap a picture outside a local restaurant, its logo left carelessly in frame. he only tells you to enjoy, doubles down when you send a selfie with your cheeks stuffed full of spanakopita.

you start to think he deserves a reward, being on the clock for nearly a month straight and still finding the time to check in with you.

his hangar is a sacred place, one you rarely enter without his accompaniment. too many expensive tools, machinery pulled apart with all its fragile bits exposed. you're always afraid to touch, afraid to break. nik had told you once that every item there was made of sterner stuff, that you couldn't hurt a swashplate if you climbed up on it. funny how you might be taking him up on the offer now.

(you wouldn't know really, the knowledge about what a swashplate even was having gone in one ear and right out the other. not your fault when he looked that good, jumpsuit folded down to reveal a sweaty, clingy tank top, wiry hair visible through the thin ribbed material.)

but you're getting ahead of yourself.

the tarp kicks up a mess when you pull it free, concrete dust having settled in nik's absence. it sends you into a sneezing fit and you curse, smudging your makeup as you try to wipe away the moisture collecting on your lash line. you decide to roll with it when you catch a glimpse of yourself in some nearby chrome, see the kind of effect it brings to your overall look.

your makeup is classic, a bright lip and exaggerated liner. even a painted on beauty mark to really knock it home. the outfit was harder to settle on, your every instinct telling you nik always appreciated when you looked your finest, all dolled up in expensive labels he'd bought for you. but ultimately you'd decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander, pilfering from his closet until you'd found what you were looking for, the exact same outfit which drove you mad.

nik's a big man, his jumpsuit made to reflect that. it drapes away from your waist when you let it hang but it's nothing that a clever safety pin corset can't fix, the top of the suit left to hang over it, hiding it away. long legs are easier to remedy, hems tucked into a pair of hiking boots you hadn't cared about in years, now painted to look the part with the same gear grease you'd smeared all over yourself, tasteful swipes meant to accentuate your soft curves, here on display under the dirty tank top you'd sworn you'd told him to get rid of, now tied tight around your waist to show off your chest. and now with your smudged makeup you think you've finally got it right, the look exactly what you'd been going for when you'd first got the notion in your head.

with the stage already set, the photoshoot goes easily enough. the poses are almost instinctual, the big wrench you wield almost natural in your hands as you lean provocatively over the engine block, tits to squished you doubt he'll ever even notice the size isn't right for the bolts in front of you. you try a couple of different styles, positions which are obviously designed with aesthetics in mind interspersed with more competent looking ones, even though it makes you feel ridiculous when you think of how obvious it will be to him that you don't know what you're doing.

you just have to remember how little he's going to mind it, all told.

editing isn't your strong suit. you're racked with doubt all the while, hyperfocused on every little flaw you spot. it gets easier when you remember the whole shoot is meant to be quite grimy and in the end you settle on a decent collection. you even remember to upload them to a file sharing site to avoid compression, sending him the link with a wink and a warning not to open in front of his comrades.

he calls you naughty immediately, but it's long hours before he can properly respond, a call that wakes you up in the middle of the night so he can pant and moan in your ear about how much he wants to bend you over that engine, peel his suit off of you and eat your cunt from the back. it's the first time you've heard his voice in weeks and the low rumble of it conspires with the slickness in your panties which never fully righted itself after your little photoshoot, the anticipation of his reaction keeping you primed for him. you come together before trading quiet reassurances. how much you miss each other, how you can't wait to see him again. he makes a vague promise to be home soon and you're still so sated that the twinge of loneliness feels like nothing really.

you think that's the end of it. that maybe he'll request more, at most. but then you wake up days later with a furnace at your back and a hairy arm draped over your side. it's still early, the sun not even up yet. you should let him sleep but you can't help rolling within the age of his arm and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. even in the low light you can see how haggard and hollow he looks, run ragged for too long. his beard is overgrown, the short stubble he usually keeps filling out into a decent beard.

really it's unfair how handsome he looks even now.

"go back to sleep."

you huff a laugh and press another kiss to him. lower now that you know he's awake. above his cupid's bow, your own lips drawn tight with your smile. "but it's morning."

"can't be," he counters, voice thick with exhaustion. "i only just fell asleep."

you hum, distracted as you trace the wrinkles of his forehead. was that one always there? was it new? "maybe it's not wherever you were," you concede. "where were you, by the way?"

"where wasn't i?" he sighs as he rolls away, a great puff of air that cuts through the easiness of the morning, reminds you of what exactly he's likely returned from. the culmination of the mission, even the easy one it seemed to be. he was rarely ever trotted out for emissary visits, after all.

but you don't want to think about all that so you follow him as he rolls, laying yourself across his chest to keep him grounded as you rub against his far shoulder. "well you're home now and my vote's for sleeping in."

his chest rumbles beneath you, a quiet laugh you can feel more so than you can hear. he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your fingers before setting it back down in favor of reaching much lower to pull you more properly onto him. your grip shifts from his shoulder to his bicep and you pause when you feel the edge of a bandage there, worry settling low in your belly as you trace the edges of it. "you're hurt?" you demand, but you don't give him a chance to respond before sitting up and leaning across him to turn the lamp on.

it takes you a moment to make sense of what you're looking at, the bandage you'd felt before nothing more than four haphazard lines of tape holding a square of black plastic against his skin. he laughs at your confusion, thumbing the furrow between your brows away as he also sits up, pulling you onto his lap as he reassures you he's not hurt.

"what's that then?" you ask, afraid to peel the edges up and see for yourself.

he's chuckling as he does it for you, the wrap pulling away to reveal the neat black lines and bold color of a traditional tattoo, a plump little pinup in a barely-hanging-on mechanic's jumpsuit, her cartoonishly circular tits squeezed between her own arms as she leaned confidently over simplified engine block. it's good work from what you can tell. his bicep is a big canvas, the tattoo itself appropriately sized, leaving the artist enough room for minute details, smudges of brown oil accentuating your curves and a wry smile below demure lids.

still.

"you didn't," you scoff, too blown away to even know if you're actually mad or not. you don't think you are, but what if he -

what if -

"well it was either this or i get you airbrushed on the side of the blackhawk, but you are mine, and i do not want just anyone to see you like that."

[gothghostiie]

small drabble about something @pricegotmedickmatized and I talked about that refused to leave my brain

cw: implied age gap, free use, voyeurism, mild humiliation, fingering, oral, objectification, talk about boot humping; spanking; anal, porn without plot, fem!afab!reader

Nikolai was always a fan of PDA. whether it's holding your hand, slinging an arm around you, kissing your cheek to get you all flustered or smacking your ass to show some asshole who was staring at you a bit too much who you belong to, slipping fingers up your skirt to tease you; anything he can get away with in public. he can't keep his hands off of you - and why would he? you're his sweetheart, his sunshine, his favourite toy. if it wasn't for social norms he'd constantly be inside you, some way or another. but he can't, obviously. can't just bend you over in public and have his way with you, even if that's his absolute dream: having you anywhere, any way he wants.

this is how this whole thing started.

the idea of free use was always appealing - considering you were always horny (and if you weren't already, you always would be within a second of him touching you), he was always all over you, whether it be his hands, lips or more. so he suggested something: free use. you pretty much beamed when he suggested it. he was surprised by how quickly and eagerly you agreed to it, but who was he to say no? so you got together and had a long talk, set up boundaries, rules, do's and don'ts and it quickly became your new normal.

bending you over the dresser first thing in the morning to get rid of his morning wood.

having you bounce on his dick at the breakfast table while he had his coffee and read the news.

groping you all over the second you get out of the shower.

shoving fingers inside you while you were trying to do chores.

having you suck his dick while he did some paperwork in his office.

cockwarming him while eating dinner together.

having him get down on his knees behind you and sticking his head under your skirt while you did the dishes.

all down to a sleepy cuddlefuck when you go to bed together.

its heaven, really. but its not enough. not for nikolai anyway.

he kept going with rules like 'always wear skirt or dresses around me' or 'no more panties around the house'. you happily oblige, because god, why wouldn't you? this hunk of a man was fucking you seven ways to Sunday, who in their right mind would complain about this?

but it's still not enough. he's let the primal, stupid animal inside him wake up and now its growling for more. whenever the two of you go out for groceries, hang out with friends, go out on dates, he had to restrain himself from just taking what he wants. sure, he fucked you out in the car afterwards every time without fail, but its not enough. pining you down under his weight in the backseat of his SUV and hearing you yelp and gasp for breath between hoarse, pathetic begging was never enough.

it starts with him feeling you up while hes on the phone to Laswell. waving you over and copping a feel of your ass while talking about an upcoming OP. it takes you by surprise, but you don't mind it - Kate didn't see and surely didn't hear the way you gasp at the fingers digging into your fat.

it got a little further when he decided to call you into his office while on a face time call - some other high ranks or whatever, you tend to not listen when you overhear whatever they're talking about - and gestures for you to stand behind the cam and pull your shirt up for him.

it goes even even further when John is visiting the two of you. sitting on the couch across from Nikolai, not even batting an eye when he calls you over and makes you bend over his lap. your face heats up and you quietly ask what he's doing, but you don't get an answer. what you do get is 2 of Nik's fingers plunged deep into your cunt without warning, making you see starts as he starts to curl them. your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, a fleeting, embarrassed gaze at John, but he just raises an eyebrow and smirks. Nikolai grunts, something about your underwear, something about manners, something that will get you spanked later, but you can barely listen as you try to process.. this. but you can't. you simply can't. you're bent over your boyfriend's lap, having your hole fingered open while his best friend watches - and you swear you've never been this wet. a bit of shame mixes in with the pleasure and shock, but the feeling is so overwhelming that you just let it happen - you can talk later, after you've came your brains out in front of Price.

but you don't talk about it. you don't mention it and neither does he - and it makes him bold. makes him think he can do whatever he wants with you.

and he can. unfortunately. bastard.

you realise this pretty quick after the little incident. he doesn't bother to keep quiet when you jerk him off on call. he doesn't bother to make sure your bobbing head is out of the shot while facetiming business partners. doesn't bother to make sure no one hears your slutty moans when he bends you over in your friend's bathroom. and no one bats an eye.

not even when he told you to to cockwarm him in front of the whole 141.

"Get in my lap, malyshka. c'mon, no need to be shy now. they're our friends, they can see how good of a toy you are." and you do, for some God forsaken reason. you pull your pants down as you stare at him, just enough so he has space to pick a hole and make you sink down on his soft cock. that's how casual it is to him, he's not even hard. and the others just watch, continuing their conversation. of course he told them about beforehand, they're not surprised - but he's determined to take it even further.

he keeps it up, slowly establishing you as his cocksleeve, his fleshlight, his toy; around his friends. has you walking around topless when at home, no matter if the blinds are open, no matter who's around. doesnt care to be subtle about slipping his fingers under your skirt during game night with your friends, pulls you onto his cock during movie night. its so casual within just weeks of him doing this, his friends dont mind the loud moans, the high pitched squeals, the wet squelching sounds your loose holes make.

but its not enough. it's never enough, why stop when no one stops him? he wants - has to see how far you will let him go. how far others will let him go. so he does.

he starts bringing you to base - just keeping you around at first, the occasional slap on your ass in front of people, but nothing wild. that's the first few days at least, before he brings the no underwear rule to work. along with the skirt and dresses only rule. has you standing by his office chair, hand under your skirt, pumping into your asshole slowly while some Sergeant delivers files to him. watches you tremble and shake, opening his mouth to speak, but Nikolai speaks first.

"just my toy. don't mind her."

its what he tells everyone. its what he tells the private who walks in on you kneeling under Nikolais desk.

it's what he tells the medical that walks in on nikolai playing with your tits and torturing your poor little nipples.

its what he tells the Lieutenant that catches you pathetically rubbing your pussy against Nikolais boot.

it's what he tells the group of privates that he's spanking you in front of as you beg for his forgiveness, showcasing what happens if someone misbehaves.

its even what he tells the General, that walks in on you bent over the desk, tits squished flat against it, mouth wide open with fat crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks while Nikolai bullies your cervix with his fat tip.

just my toy. don't mind her.

[leyavo]

Nikolai’s Weapons!Assistant x Gaz

“Devushka, the girl with no name,” Nikolai introduces you like that to everyone, because you refuse to give anyone your name, even him.

You were a freedom fighter when Nik first met you. A girl with a mask, but he liked your attention to detail and knowledge on the weapons you collected/stole from bad people.

It’s not till he runs into you a third time does he offer you a job. That and you’re trying to steal from one of his clients. Yelling about freedom and how Nik’s stifling a whole city by giving weapons away.

“You know freedom? Never constant Devushka,” he says, shaking his head and hooking his finger under your chin. “Ahhh, you’re stubborn. Perhaps not learnt your lesson?” Only something you’ll learn the longer you live in this world.

“And what you’re going to teach me?” You snarl, tearing away from his hold.

Nik scoffs, “no.” He circles you where you stand, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Better, you could fly with me Devushka.”

The mask is gone, freedom coming and going in exchange of flying. Stealing weapons and collecting some of your own - a particular set of throwing daggers. Nik can find you in the evenings throwing knives at the platform of the hangar.

You’re the one unloading the weapons and picking them apart, scraping the identification number off so they can be resold. Your fingernails never clean enough, no matter how much you scrub them. Oil and rust beneath them that you bite them down short, but the dirt still stains the top of your nails and cuticles.

Nikolai gifting you a dainty gold necklace with his initial pendant (got a tracker in it which you don’t realise).

Making bullets and testing them in the wilds behind the hangar, it’s out in the middle of nowhere so no one can hear the rounds of bullets firing. You’re not allowed to touch the grenade launchers though after the last accident.

The mask is still tucked beneath your mattress, worn only when you step on to the helicopter or a plane. And of course you love your missions with a certain sergeant or Gaz which he prefers to be called.

Gaz the only smooth one that got you to tell him your name. You did threaten to slit his throat if he told anyone. “Don’t threaten me with a good time now.” You wanted to both strangle and kiss him. He whispers your name in your ear as he fucks you, promising that everything’s just between the two of you. You two against the world.

Maybe flying is freedom.

Kyle finds your oily fingerprints on his gear as he sits on the helicopter ride back to base. A few swipes of the grime on his jawline or just beneath his collar. The scent of gunpowder and grit under his nails reminding him of you. Sometimes he procrastinates, the shower running for an hour before he steps under the harsh spray of water, not wanting to erase your touch. A pile of his dirty clothes in one corner still holding your mark.

His tattered cap hangs from your bedpost, a piece of him so you know he’ll return. You wear it whenever you’re testing the weapons under the scorching sun, finger tracing the flag on the front. Hoping he’s thinking of you as much as you think of him.

[Masterlist]

[syoddeye]

the gift that keeps on giving - part three/final, nikolai

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled.

cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, alcohol, pet names, nik calling himself 'old man', piv, mild scent/armpit kink, rimming, overstim

a/n: AO3. series page.

The door groans as Nikolai shoulders it open, the cold clinging like a second skin.

Snow dusts his boots, melting in thin streams into dark puddles on the wooden floor. Sweat cools beneath his clothes, seeping into the fabric of his coat. His breath clouds in the cabin’s warmth as he steps inside, dropping the firewood beside the stove with a heavy thud. He rolls his shoulders, the lingering bite of winter settled deep in his bones. Shedding his outer layers, he cracks his neck from side to side, drawing in a deep breath. 

The cabin is simple—rustic, as John would put it. Remote. Tucked even further away than the hangar, well within in fuck off territory. A lonely place for a birthday.

Which makes it perfect.

For as long as he can remember, his birthday has always been just another day. So what if it marks the anniversary of him arriving in the world, red-faced and screaming? People are born. People die. It’s not an achievement. It isn’t special. He is nothing special.

She is.

Even if she is…less than pleased with their lodgings.

She sits wrapped in a thick blanket by the fireplace, face pinched in unmistakable displeasure. Legs tucked beneath her, lower lip pushed into a scowl, fingers drumming irritably.

Nikolai exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he unlaces his boots. “What is this face?” he muses, glancing at her. “You have not moved a muscle, have you?”

She glares. “I’m conserving heat. Important when you’re trapped in the wilderness against your will.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, peeling off his gloves. “Sitting indoors, by a fire, wrapped in a blanket. Yes, very tragic for you.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?”

She huffs, pulling the blanket tighter. “When are we going to do something fun?”

He raises a brow. “Not enjoying yourself?”

She fixes him with a flat look. “I enjoy heat, comfort, and WiFi. None of which exist in this godforsaken place. That hotel I recommended on the other hand…”

Nikolai tsks, stepping closer. “You are soft, tsarevna.”

“I have standards.”

He smirks. “Yes. High standards, yet still, you are here. With me. On my birthday.” Just another day, but a useful tool in his belt. “I seem to recall you said you would give this place a shot. Work on that bad attitude of yours.”

She shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “I can’t help that I’m meant for finer things. I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go somewhere warm and hospitable,” she gripes. “In Naxos, Kate and I sunbathed for hours.”

“Ah, darling.” He clicks his tongue. “You know I don’t like complaining.”

“I’m only saying, if we went through with Thoddo, or Krk—”

Nik laughs. She’s trying to push his buttons. Has to be.

John warned him about this, about scooping her up and stealing away here. Said she wouldn’t like it. Said their little indoor cat of a woman would sulk. That she’d become spoiled. A playful jab at the time, but now, Nik’s not so sure.

It doesn’t usually fall to him, the wrangling, but she usually does not test him so much. He plays rough with her, but never from a place of correction. 

That may have to change. A new year, new role, perhaps.

He moves suddenly, crossing the room in a handful of strides. Her mouth falls open to argue, maybe to apologize, but his mind’s made up. Prissy thing needs a lesson.

Faster than she can react, he seizes her wrist and hauls her up, dragging her to her feet. She stumbles into him, yelping, palms splaying over his chest.

“Nikolai!”

His grin widens, wicked and full of mischief. He reaches down, grabs the hem of his damp thermal, and yanks it up—then in one smooth motion, tugs it over her head, trapping her face against his clammy skin.

Her muffled shriek is instant. “YOU ANIMAL!”

Nikolai chuckles, locking her in place with one arm around her waist. “Breathe deep,” he deadpans. “This is the scent of hard work. Of man.”

She thrashes hard, but he doesn’t budge. “Let me go!”

“Shhh.” He rubs a slow, patronizing hand over her back. “You will learn to appreciate it.”

She makes a strangled noise of absolute outrage, trying to wrench free, but he keeps her snug against him, her face buried in the coarse hair and sticky sweat of his chest.

“Nik, I swear to God—”

Finally, he lets go, stepping back as she stumbles, gasping for air like she’s survived an assassination attempt.

She wipes her face furiously, murderous. “You’re disgusting.”

Nikolai only pats her cheek, still grinning. “But you are warm now, no? Maybe vigorous activity is in order.”

She glares, but he snatches her wrist and tugs, slingshotting her toward the washroom. She stumbles, catching herself as he lands a smack to her rear, herding her into the washroom.

The claws come out when he strips her, but she doesn’t use her words once—beyond cursing him out.

“Perverted old man,” She hisses as he pushes his nose into her bunched-up panties.

“Unlike you, I like it sweaty. Adds flavor.” he laughs, nudging her under the water.

The hot water here lasts, at best, ten minutes. So after she sees to herself, he puts her to work, scrubbing soap into his back and chest, raking her nails through the thick whorls of hair. When he lifts his arms, she grimaces, suddenly face to face with the dense fur of his armpits.

He pictures doing it again, pressing her face into the hair to hear her shriek. Instead, he pulls her into a kiss, water slipping between their locked lips. Mercy to keep her on her toes.

He kisses her deeply, savoring until he’s certain he’s planted stars in her eyes. She doesn’t resist when he motions for her to continue. He sighs in contentment, eyes shutting, even as the water turns tepid. The warmth of his own skin is enough, as are the palms massaging his belly and thighs. Nothing’s left untouched despite her grousing. Sour mood or not, she knows what’s expected.

A hand wraps around his length, pulling a grunt from him.

He was wondering when she’d get to that.

Nik cracks his eyes to find her watching, drenched, her mouth curled into a small crooked smile. 

There she is.  

Perhaps someone’s feeling more like herself.

He plants his hands on the tile behind her, caging her in. A thin stream of water trickles from his chin, landing on her shoulder and sliding down the curve of her chest. His breath ghosts over her ear, a quiet huff of amusement. In response, she firms up her grip, the water making her strokes smooth and fluid.

It’s always better than the time before. Even just her hands, warm and slightly pruny, are heaven. He’s used to working with men who throw themselves out of helicopters, tear down walls, and kill with their bare hands. To John’s impatient, squeezing fist and borderline cruel efficiency. And while she’s not gentle with him, her grip tight and her rhythm insistent, he craves it all the same.

She buries her face against him willingly this time, lips trailing over muscle and coarse hair, his gold chain. She finds places to bite, to suck, a little leech in every sense. It’s forgivable. What they have is a mutual parasitism, after all. Everyone in their covenant gets something in return.

For a long time, he thought it was just the carnal aspects—something to spice up his and John’s relationship, keep them company. But now, well into their arrangement, with years of traditions and ritual, he knows it’s more than that.

After all, what better way to make a man feel twenty years younger than having a pretty, stubborn girl worship him?

Nik returns the affection, brushing his lips over her temple, murmuring praise, savoring. He bucks occasionally, breaking low assurances with curses he’s taught her. She swipes her thumb over the head of his cock, and he nips the shell of her ear, a quiet growl escaping him.

“Trying to make me shoot early, darling?”

She bites a nipple. Hard. Speaks with it between her teeth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kolya.” 

Spiteful hellcat.

His skin’s on fire despite the shower. He may not be on the ground to the same extent as John, but he prides himself on his stamina, which wanes quicker than he likes nowadays. He won’t waste his cum.

He’s an old man now. He’s not eager to test how quickly he can rally.

“Let go.” He straightens, running his tongue over his lip. He gestures with his head, curtly ordering, “Turn around.”

She hesitates. He sees it in the slight shift of her weight, ready to take to whatever she imagines he has planned. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, still convinced that the real punishment is coming.

Surely, a shower can’t be it? That’s what she’s thinking—plain as day.

Her brows pinch, lips parting to speak only to shut, thinking better of it. She’s rarely nervous with him, or any of them, which makes her poker face exceedingly unpracticed.

She does as asked, steadying herself against the wall.

Nikolai admires the view. The curve of her spine, her skin. The pleasing heat pooled at the bottom of his stomach hurts, internally grumbling at the restraint.

He kneels with a grunt, the dull ache in his lower back and shoulders a lingering reminder of his labors. Worth it for this.

He meets her gaze as she peeks over her shoulder. Pressed to the wall, braced on her forearms, she’s drawn inward, legs closed. That won’t do. He fixes her stance with a pat on each inner ankle. Positions her how he wants her. Bent forward, ass out. One arm cushioning her head, the other—

“Hold a cheek, that’s it.” 

Like this, there’s nothing to hide. Water splashes off her mid-back, streaming down in rivers, sluicing over her skin and down her crack. It catches and rolls off every crevice, admixing with the drip between her legs.

If he drowns, he drowns.

One hand grips the back of her knee, the other anchoring to her upper thigh. Then, without hesitation, he gets to work.

The first drag is light. A chance to savor the cherry-like taste of soap mixing with the sweet tang of her cunt. He groans against her hole, nose digging into a cheek, water diverting around the bridge. He tucks his tongue inside to feel a feeble clench, then sweeps.

He saws his tongue through her glistening cunt to the furl of her ass, adjusting his grip when the latter wrings a surprised, indignant whine out of her. He lavishes over the rim until he feels it give, chasing it when she wiggles. It’s not her favorite, never has been, but he can usually—yes, there it is. Her squirming turns from escape as soon as his hand slides up from her knee to her folds.

There’s no resistance at all to plunge two fingers into her, crooking and dragging her back onto his tongue again and again. Teasing her ass with the muscle, drawing out a string of soft, helpless whimpers.

Her whines echo when he withdraws, rising to his feet, digits still buried inside. He drapes over her back, lungs heaving in air. A couple milliliters of water in his stomach.

His cock’s trapped between them, slippery in the cleft of her ass. He pumps his fingers slowly, ignoring her fruitless wiggling, encouraging him along, instead snaking his free hand around her front to find her swollen clit. 

“Mmph,” she sinks her teeth into the forearm beneath her head, eyes rolling back.

He watches, rapt. Every twitch in her facial features, each flutter of her lashes. On the edge of oblivion and circling, stuck, chasing the push and pull of his hand. Frustration mounting with every whine. Oh, it’s cruel. So mean.

Rewarding, though, when he stops. Abruptly. Unceremoniously. Tugs his fingers out and jams them into the pocket of his mouth for a taste.

The desperate complaints that erupt, the raw neediness. It satisfies.

Sometimes, he thinks he should be softer with her, the way John and Kate are. They’d both deny it, but they’re far quicker to fold and to dote. Maybe he should spoil her more. Dig out the Simbir, tell her to pack her bags, and take her somewhere warm where the sun bakes the sand white. But that’s not who he is, and she knew that when she got into this.

He already gives her everything. His time, his money, his hands when she needs them. He fixes her shit. Buys her presents. Listens. That’s enough. More than enough. 

And if she ever wanted something else—Kate’s tenderness, John’s predictability—she’d speak up.

Instead, she’s clumsily insulting his haircut and shivering, their shared warmth spiraling down the drain. He entertains her a second more before reaching around, shutting the water off, and slaps her ass.

“Out, darling.”

Nik takes his time drying her off, running the towel over every bit, all while humming an innocent tune. She simmers, jaw tight, but he pays no mind. Then he repeats the process on himself, glancing into the mirror while she hovers behind him, arms crossed tightly and bouncing lightly on her heels.

“You know, maybe if you had not mouthed off, I would be inclined to move faster.”

“Who says I want you to move faster?” She shoots back. “You might break a hip.”

His face must turn demonic with how wide her eyes go. It is nothing to him, just words, he knows. He is old. Certainly not made for jumping out of birds mid-flight.

It’s enjoyable to make her sweat, though.

“Still in a bad mood, tsarevna? What happened to my nice girl? You wound me.”

Nikolai brushes past her, his nose catching the tart scent of soap clinging to her skin. The fragrance is fleeting, but intoxicating, and better that they share it. He passes into the bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed in a heap. His back hits the mattress with a grunt of relief, and he stretches out, arms bent behind his head. He flashes his teeth, enjoying her struggling composure.

He fists the base of his cock, giving it a couple lazy strokes.

“My back’s killing me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Takes the hint.

With a half-hearted scowl, she slinks up the bed, the haze in her eyes and the slick on her thighs betraying her. Settling over him, she plants her hands firmly against his chest, threading into his hair with just enough bite to be mean.The heat of her radiates, burns, sears his knuckles on the upstroke. Eyes locked, he knows what she’s playing at.

“Hate the snow that much?”

“I hate being cold.”

“So you’ve said. Let me warm you up. Sit down.”

She hesitates, chewing her cheek as if she’s not aching for it, but the command takes.

It’s a team effort, her hand over his, guiding and holding him still until the last moment, and then it’s all her following gravity’s lead. Sinking down onto his cock, impaling herself inch by inch.

He groans. “Fuck, baby, like a glove.”

The heat’s almost too much, her cunt drenched and warmed by the shower and his teasing. He digs into her hips, kneading her flesh with a low sound as she settles fully, her mouth hanging open. It won’t be long before she remembers herself. Remember she’s supposed to be cross with him. Play petulant, mock his age, pretend he’s the meanest old bastard she’s ever crossed paths with.

Nik thrusts experimentally, knocking her out of the heavens, dragging her back down to earth with him.

Her eyelids crack open, but she bites off a noise and presses her lips tightly together, fighting herself.

“You’re not cold anymore, are you?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

She shakes her head. “Still cold.”

He swats her for that, palm cracking across a cheek. “Then get to it.”

It’s slow going at first. More of her posturing, lifting and dropping herself on his dick as mechanically as possible. But another swat makes her clench and speed up, unable to deny how that feels at least. Again, he lets her play her game. Gives her a taste of victory. In return, he doesn’t spare an ounce of effort. He’s flown through countless hot zones, under fire. With a knife to his throat. While applying pressure to a leaking wound. Ignoring a bit of pussy, even when it’s hers, even when it’s warm and perfect, isn’t difficult.

Kate taught him that—to let their pet wear herself out when she’s in a mood. Makes her pliant.

Before long, her movements falter, trembling with the strain, sweat beading along her forehead and trailing down her neck. Down the curve of her stomach, between her swinging breasts. A drop migrates from the tit squeezed in his hand, tracing a path down his wrist. He lets go to lick it off, chuckling at her wince.

“What’s the matter?” he rasps, and when she doesn’t answer, he jerks up hard, and startles a gasp out of her. “Not enough?”

Her movements are sloppier now, equal parts desperation and exhaustion. Poor baby—having to stand in the shower while he spoiled her, having to work for it now. All the while pretending she hates it. Hates the snow. Hates the cabin. Hates the entire trip.

She can lie to herself all she wants.

But she can’t lie to him.

Not when she’s digging her nails into his chest like she’ll slip through the cracks of reality if she lets go. Not when every breath that leaves her lips shakes with need. Not when she stares down at him, wide-eyed, pupils blown, mouth slack.

Makes it sweeter when she finally caves.

She nods, pausing to grind down on his cock. “Need more.”

He hums, letting his hands trace up the length of her spine, slow and easy. “Mm? Thought I was ‘disgusting’? A ‘perverted old man’?”

Before she can bite back, he moves. In a fluid motion, he grips her hips, shifts his weight, and flips her onto her back. She lands with a sharp gasp caught between her teeth. He follows, pressing in close, caging her beneath him. His palms settle at her waist, thumbs stroking over her heated skin.

“Still think that, pretty girl?” he murmurs, eyes gleaming as his breath ghosting over her throat. “Or do you want to try and be nice again?” He glides back in one harsh thrust.

“F-Fuck, Nikolai–”

“C’mon, tsarevna, surely you can do better than that,” he teases, though his control on language falters. He hits something sensitive, making her throw her head back and knock her knees to his ribs. “Shit, at least your hole is honest, what about your mouth?”

She doesn’t get much of a chance to answer—doesn’t have the breath for it. It’s good, too good. Pulling back, relishing the drag, and pushing back in deep, his pace steady and relentless.

She fights a little when he fucks her through her first orgasm. Teary-eyed, looking up at him, her expression one of pure betrayal with her wrists trapped in one of his hands, clicking his tongue at her feeble attempt to shove him off. One brief look affirms she’s fine, so he snarls down a reminder that she can take it.

When he lets go, it’s only to order her. 

“Hold your—yes, baby, like that.” 

It’s obscene. The view, the sounds. Her hands gripping the sweaty curves beneath her knees, holding her legs up, exposing herself completely. Where her cunt swallows him again and again, soaking him and seeping into the sheets. 

He pauses and pulls out completely, like before, timing it perfectly as her muscles tighten, watching her squirm beneath him. Her hole clenches uselessly around nothing, and her hands twitch, fighting to stay put, with her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip to keep quiet.

She’s learned that much, at least.

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.

“Look at you. Called me disgusting. But you?” He grinds in slow. “Filthy.”

He thumbs over her clit, drawing messy figure eights over the slippery bud, curling his free fingers in her bush. Some mean word gets tossed his way, but it rewards him with the sharp arch of her spine beneath him. She comes hard just as he pinches her clit, cutting a curse off his tongue with how tight she goes. 

Chain reaction. He lets up the moment he knows it’s inevitable, covering her hands with his own and pressing her knees back as far as they’ll go.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nikolai grunts, jaw clicking as he heaves himself in as far as he can, burying himself deep. 

He swears it puts years on his life, nullifying whatever time’s stolen. It yanks a dirty laugh out of him when there’s too much, and leaks out around the plug of his cock. Her hole practically spits a glob as he slips free, milky white dribbling down her ass and smearing into his thigh.

The sound of it coming out makes her abandon her hold at last, squeaking out something like oh my god, wrestling with him until he’s flush against her back, head in the space between their pillows. An arm curled around her in a bear hug, the other drifting lower.

His name comes out in a panicked, slurred whisper. “Nik? Nik—Nik—Nik, you c-cah aaaan’t–”

The morning passes into the afternoon before the last of her fight fades. She eventually curls into him like a cat, soft and pliant against him, her muscles relaxed, her cheek pressed to his chest. There’s only one brief interruption in the long stretch of hours—just enough time for him to give her more than just his own fluids, and for him to indulge in the all-important ritual.

He lets her sleep, allowing her to come to on her own time, while he sneaks another drink directly from the bottle, appreciating the burn.

This give and take, the push and pull?

He would not trade it for anything.

She stirs with a small groan, wiping drool from her chin with the back of her hand, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with sleep. A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he sets the bottle down with a soft clink, his thumb absently tracing the peeling corner of the label.

Her face scrunches in discomfort, pushing herself upright, and suddenly freezes. She cringes, pulling her hand away from a damp spot.

“Kolya?” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

“Yes?” 

“C’mon, let’s change the sheets…”

He arches an eyebrow, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Mm, this is the only set.”

“You animal.”

He chuckles again, pulling her back down to steal a kiss.

She sighs against his mouth. “Happy birthday, old man.”

[secretlysimpash]

Nikolai having a hangar cat, just a stray that wandered in on one of the freezing cold Russian nights. It came to him as a scrawny, trembling, pathetic thing with patchy, dark blue-gray fur. Its wide, green eyes and sad meows were enough to break him.

He ended up feeding it for a week. In two weeks, it had a collar with a red tag hanging from it. One donning the hangar cat's name: Kitti. Yes, Nikolai is very creative.

Kitti loves lounging inside of the helicopters while Nikolai fixes them, purrs drowned out by the loudest death metal imaginable. Whenever Laswell drops by his hangar, Kitti watches her through a window of the pilot's seat. Though she never comes out of the heli. Not when she visits, not when anyone from 141 visits. She even swatted at Soap when the man tried sticking a hand through the door to pet her head. Kitti doesn't even budge when Nikolai tries coaxing her out if others are around.

It doesn't bother Nikolai too much, even if he wishes that she'd at least come out to greet Price. It isn't until a new face comes into the hangar that this changes. Well, its not his hangar, but one away from home. One he's working in overseas, away from Russia. Its hotter than Russia, so his bomber jacket is long forgotten in the back of the heli.

The burly Russian is finishing off some work on the engine when Kitti jumps down from the pilot side door. Instead of the long furred feline going to curl around Nikolai's ankles and demand attention, she heads for the door.

Flanked by Laswell and Price is you. Kitti promptly ignores them in favor of chirping up at you. Nik can't believe it. Neither can the amused American or the very slightly offended Brit.

Its unbelievable. Kitti only tolerates Nikolai, but here you are...A stranger, a lovely stranger at that. Someone that the very picky storm cloud of a cat likes and is now rubbing up against.

What kind of cat dad would Nikolai be if he didn't introduce himself (and Kitti) properly? Especially to the one that he's already planning on keeping for himself? The one that he has decided is Kitti's new co-parent?

[quarterlifekitty]

Listen, I'm not saying that I want to marry Nikolai and Price and be their good house wife buuuut-

Man why am I imagining Price and Nikolai sharing a wife like she’s a fuckin’ timeshare. Like yeah, they work together sometimes, but otherwise Price has got you with him when Nik is on a long job, and Nik has got you with him when Price is deployed.

99% of their back and forth texts are about you. Pictures of you, updates on you, where they’ve been taking you on dates, videos of cum leaking out of the puffy, swollen lips of your cunt. And they’ve got basically the same philosophy about giving you a baby— they can share the responsibility. They’re both busy, dangerous men. It would be cruel to have wives of their own— poor women would be alone for half the year. This way they can keep their careers and you can get some much needed attention.

The way they talk about you is so insanely intimate and yet so utterly casual.

“Calendar says she should be ovulatin’ soon. Got plans?”

“Making a Black Forest cake for her as we speak. Says you haven’t been able to find her a decent one in London.”

“Slander— bird’s got impossibly high standards. And she’s always been soft for sweets from you, Nik. Hope you’re ready to get your balls fuckin’ drained, mate.”

“I’m betting on it.”

[verascrow]

「✰」 ━━ NIKOLAI HEADCANONS

RATING R - Restricted [ Content Warnings : 18+ mdni, gn!m!f!reader, strong language, alcohol mention and consumption, fluff, possible mistranslation, spider mention, smut, dom!Nikolai, sub!reader, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, masturbation, riding, hair pulling ]

SYNOPSIS Both general and romantic, safe for work and not safe for work, headcanons for, arguably, one of the most underrated Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters to date - Nikolai. (This is my first time writing smut so any tips and feedback is greatly appreciated!)

WORD COUNT 1.2k

SAFE FOR WORK

His hands, and just his body overall, run naturally warm. Not to the point where he can be considered a "walking heater" or burning to the touch, but just exudes a constant warmness overall.

Dad-bod, no questions asked. He's not completely cut, not all hard surfaces and muscles - he's got a plush softness to him body that's equally as firm. He works out and keeps himself in shape, of course, because, granted, it's a given that comes with his profession, but he indulges himself equally as much.

He doesn't drink heavily, per se, setting a hard cut-off point for himself that he abides by like it's law, but he won't deny a drink if he's offered it. After all, drinking culture is big in Russia - he can hold his own just fine. That being said, vodka isn't his favorite, but he doesn't hate it by any means, either.

Acts of service and quality time are his love languages. He loves spending time with you whenever he can, especially considering how his profession can take him away for months and more at a time. If it's possible, you're always by his side or he's by yours. Will do anything you ask of him, too - be it chores, tasks, or anything else.

That being said, it can also be argued that giving gifts is one of his primary love languages, too. Any time he's out on a mission, he always tries to get you something from wherever he's been to - there are many perks to being a pilot, now aren't there?

He snores when he sleeps, and he sleeps heavy. Not to the point where you'd have to dump a bucket of ice water over him to wake him up, but to the point where you have to shake him vigorously to get him to slowly rouse. Sounds like a lawnmower when he snores.

His kisses are soft and slow, one hand on your waist or back, pulling you in, while the other holds your chin with such tenderness, guiding your lips to meet his, breathing out a heavy sigh as he relaxes into you.

Opts for Russian terms of endearment over English ones. It feels more personal to him, calling you something in his native tongue rather than something he hears everyone around him call their partners - it's more special to him.

Лапушка/Лапочка - Lapochka/Lapushka (sweetheart)

Любимая/Любимый - Lyubimaya/Lyubimyy (darling)

Surprisingly or not, he's actually a really good cook! He's traveled to so many places and tried so many different kinds of food so, naturally, he's learned to make them for himself. He downplays his abilities, but he looks like an absolute professional when he's in the kitchen.

When he's not away for work, he's actually quite domestic. He has a house of his own far away from everyone else in a remote little town, at least an hour or two outside of any major city. A cabin of sorts, with a place for his own little garden that he tends to (or, more accurately, which you tend to).

He even has his own little stall at the town's farmers market where he sells what he grows whenever it's ready. Everyone has so many theories about him because, honestly - why wouldn't they? A Russian man who lives at the edge of town in a big ol' house, disappearing for weeks or months at a time. It's a cause for concern.

He's so polite and he has the best manners, no question about it.

Though, to combat it, he can be quite a loose-canon. He's reckless and unethical in his methods, especially with work, but some aspects carry over to his personal and domestic life. (If there's a spider, he's pulling out his pistol first, not grabbing a book or a shoe).

He has this sarcastic, almost morbid sense of humor, smug as all hell (worse than Graves, more often than not) but he's genuinely just playful. He's a friend to everyone he meets and can easily match vibes with anyone.

NOT SAFE FOR WORK

Dominant in every sense of the word. He might let you act like you're in control from time to time, but he's quick to show you your place and has no shame in doing it.

His hands are always on you, no matter the occasion. He has to have some sort of physical contact when it comes to you. Be it a hand on the small of your back to guide you, on your shoulder to assure his presence, his leg touching yours when you sit down, a palm on your thigh as he drives.

One-hundred percent an ass man. Squeezing, slapping, spanking, groping - doesn't matter. If he can, his hand is there, no discussion.

He's an exhibitionist, easily. The risk of getting caught, whether if he's by himself or if he's with you, turns him on beyond belief - it gets his head spinning.

Helicopter sex! He's absolutely obsessed with getting you to ride him while he sits in the cockpit, holding onto your hips, fingers bruising into the skin, his legs spread wide with his jumper zipped down as far as it can go, fucking up into you as you bounce on his cock.

Jerks himself off in his helicopter too, biting down onto his fist as he fucks into his hand with purpose.

He's noisy! All grunts and growls, whispering to you how good you feel, practically narrating what he's doing sometimes.

It's a balance of praise and degradation that he gives. Sometimes it fifty-fifty, saying how you're taking him so well, like a good whore should. Sometimes it switches from one to the other (be it extremes or not) - it just depends.

Gives oral like it’s his job. Steady grip on your thighs, pushing them back and wide and buries himself between them for as long as you'll allow him to. He's so sloppy with it too, drooling and spitting all over you as he sucks you off/eats you out. (If you look close enough, you can tell it's started to bleach his beard, too).

Takes his time fucking you. He doesn't like quickies at all - if he isn't able to fuck you at the pace he wants, he isn't doing it. Now, this doesn't necessarily mean that he isn't up for hard and fast sex, but it's more so that he doesn't like time constraints.

More often than not, though, he goes slow (at least, at first), teasing you until you're begging before slowly pushing into you, dragging his cock in and out of you at an excruciating pace.

Speaking of, too, he's such a tease and he knows it.

Loves loves loves pulling and grabbing your hair, forcing you to arch your back as he pounds into you from behind relentlessly, watching the way your ass ripples with every snap of his hips.

Dumbification, too. Loves getting you all cock-drunk and fucked out to the point where you can't think for yourself, teasing you and borderline-mocking you as he slides a hand down your stomach, bringing his thumb down to your clit and making slow circles around it/grabbing the base of your cock and slowly stroking up and down it as he coos at you.

This goes hand in hand with overstimulation - loves making you cum over and over and over again until you can't think and it's too much, only to coax another orgasm out of you.

[gothicflowers]

John Price, Nikolai, Rudy Parra

NSFW (MDNI)

He was a chunky kid, his grandma and aunts always made sure he was well fed. He got made fun of until he was about fifteen when he finally had a growth spurt. He wasn’t as muscular as Ghost, nor did he have super defined abs like Soap, no luscious hair like Alejandro. He’s not insecure about his body, far from it, he doesn’t care about his scars or the stretch marks that decorate his skin. Truth is, he just doesn’t find himself impressive. He doesn’t think that his strong arms, softly defined tummy, and muscular thighs are what most what find attractive, he calls himself average.

So when you asked him if he would video himself jacking off he was rather surprised. Especially when you asked if he could try and get from his knees up to his shoulders In the frame.

He let out a small laugh before he spoke into the phone “Why? I’m not that attractive, you don’t want a video with my stomach in it”

“But I love seeing how your chest and tummy muscles flex when you get close” you tell him.

you’re trying hard to convince him from the other end of the line. He had a few boudoir photos of you saved and a clip or two of your intimate moments. But you had nothing of him. And after a few days he gave it some thought. That’s when you got a text with a attachment with a message that said “I hope this can satisfy you until I get home, xoxo”

He’s sitting it a chair that’s barely big enough to fit him. His pants are pulled down just enough for him to free himself. His button up shirt is completely undone exposing his soft hairy chest and stomach, sleeves rolled up to his elbows giving you a clear view of his veiny hands and forearms.

It’s delicious from being to end. He starts slow and soft, wanted to take his time to picture you against him. His hand that isn’t occupied grazes against his chest and stomach, giving his body soft but firm squeezes. He moves his hand up and down in a manner that is similar to how you ride him. After a few more minutes his hands pace becomes slightly faster and his breathing became loud and heavy. Soft groans of your name falls from his lips. You can tell he’s getting close. His sholders come slightly inwards as his pecks flex and flare with his breath, his tummy clenching and hardening as the tightness grows. His moans sound like choked out cries as his head throws back as he comes all over his tummy. The video doesn’t end there. His hand slowly moves again squeezing out what’s left before his thumb rolls over his red tip. His breathing slows down and he lets out a satisfied sigh.

[captainpriceslilwife]

uuuhhhhhh ruminating on nikolai again and im hormonal and I stalked @quarterlifekitty 's nikolai tag about a hundred times so uhhhhhhh...gross daddy kink with nik 🤗 yay! (18+ nsfw below the cut)

CW: daddy kink (nik brings it out of me....like nasty, so im so sorry), overstimulation, could be perceived as non-con ish but it isn't I promise (he loves you, you love this behavior, everyone is happy) aannnd no aftercare written (only bc i didn't feel like writing it :) but he did take care of you afterwards, i promise) also first time writing smut so bad writing TW

Curled up at Nik's side, your cheek squished up against the dense hair that coats his chest as his fingers work their way into your tight, clenching heat. The little whimpers and mewls that escape from your mouth only serve to spur him on, but when your hips begin to wriggle, he brings his large paw to grip your ass and hold you in place on his fingers.

He chuckles softly at the quiet keen you let out, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head to soothe you as he scissors his fingers inside of you. "Shhh, kotenok...you need to sit still for your papochka, hm? So tight...I wouldn't want to hurt my sweet girl just because she can't be patient."

"I am being patient..." You murmur breathlessly, your tone turning slightly petulant as you tilt your head up to press tiny, pleading kisses to his jaw. "I want more, please, daddy. I can take it, I promise."

You feel his voice rather than hear it - his deep, rumbling voice reverberating through his chest and straight to your core as he coos quietly at you. "I know you think you can handle it, but papochka knows what you need, baby. Just be a good little girl for me and take what I give you."

But you just can't listen. You're always so good for him, but you had a really hard day :(, so after a couple more minutes (thirty seconds) you can't help it when you start to grind down on his fingers, groaning softly as you finally get him to punch against that spongey spot inside of you that has you sighing in relief.

He tuts quietly at your disobedience, but he can't help but huff in amusement at the way you bounce yourself on his thick fingers, barely even giving him a thought as you pant against his neck. He's always loved that you felt comfortable enough to push against him and his rules, especially since you were a jumpy little thing when he first got his hands on you - always asking him for directions and doing everything he said to a T. He's finally gotten you to relax enough to take what you need from him, even if it means you end up acting like a brat sometimes. But he's never been the type of man to punish bratty behavior...no, no, no. He loves spoiling his sweet malyshka! So if you want more? He'll give it to you.

No matter what.

And now that you've got your knees pressed next to your ears, feet dangling over his shoulders as he rams his cock into you, your little fists are weakly pushing against his chest as you whine about it being 'too much'.

"Oh, but isn't this what you wanted, malyshka? I thought you could take it, big girl. You promised me." He croons in a condescending tone, pulling one of your hands away from his chest to press a gentle kiss to it as you continue to whimper pathetically. When a tear begins to slip down your cheek, he swoops in and licks it right up, causing you to let out a little whine of discontent and a soft little 'gross' - but he can feel how tightly you clench around him at the action. "Mmh...so sweet, milaya."

And when he's made you cum more times than you can count - battering your poor, squelching cunt to its limit - you try to wriggle away from him. He just lets out a deep, rumbling laugh at your weak attempt to get away, eying you like you're an unruly kitten who doesn't know any better.

"Ah, ah, ah..." He tuts gently at you, tugging your hips back to slam you down on the bed so he can work his cock back inside of you. "No running, kotenok. You don't go anywhere until I say so. Come on, listen to your daddy."

You're nearly blacked out by the time he finally stops. Your trembling hands reach down between your legs to guard your throbbing pussy even though you know he's done - he's already rolled over to reach for his cigarettes and lighter, pulling you tight to his side as he flicks his thumb until the end of his stick glows orange.

He tosses the lighter off to the side before taking a deep drag and tilting your chin up to look at him. He blows his smoke out of the corner of his mouth to 'not ruin your pretty lungs', as he always says - but you're not sure how much good it does when he uses the same hand that holds the cigarette to trace his thumb over your cheek, catching the tears that still slip from your eyes.

"Say 'thank you, papochka' " He grunts in that sweet, patronizing voice that always turns you on more than you care to admit. When you stay silent, too fucked-out to even bring yourself to think, he brings one of his hands up to squeeze the fat of your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout and pulling a soft gasp out of you. "Go on. Say it, little girl."

You choke out something between a moan and a sob, and it takes you a second to form the words "th-thank you, papochka" before your resigned back to a panting, sweaty mess as he pats your cheek affectionately.

"Ah, good. So you can listen."

nsfw (p!link) visual for the first position he's got you in (full cred to @codnasties for the vid even though its for price)