#soft nikto

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Nobody And Yours - NIKTO x READER

Tags: Implied self harm, ooc nikto, soft nikto, domestic fluff, comfort, mild Angst, desperate nikto.

Words: 0.5k

Nikto knew it well. The mask was mentally and physically hard and cold. And yet there you were, attracted to him. You were soft, warm. Everything he needed and more.

He had to get better. For you at least.

He didn’t let you kiss him for the first year of your relationship. It would’ve been damning you. To stain perfectly pure skin with the blood on his hands.

Yet

the way you would smile at him at every selfish grasp and endlessly tender graze of his left him feeling lightheaded. Obsessed, heartsick.

He wishes he could trust, yet every time he has tried to rid of the mask before you his hands shake. Mind freezing as his thoughts grow a little louder, more distorted. Shutting himself away in his room for hours or days before he gets back to you, self repairs in store for himself as he shields the sins on his name. Protective, damaged.

Scars to show for his crimes and missing patches of skin to show for his mistakes. It was all shameful and yet the way you ask so softly to see. He had to at least try before he would run once again in shame. But he wouldn’t hide for long, not with you. Possessive, protective.

He would never make you wait if he could.

The one good thing that is for him. Only him. He couldn't leave you, ever. Selfish, greedy, starving, you could call him anything and he wouldn’t deny it. It was in his nature.

And yet, he wouldn’t be ravenous, he will not be voracious, he will be gentle and soft. All for you. He won’t leave scars on your skin as he had done so to himself. He will not leave you with worry and sorrow. He will not be rude to you. He will be tender and calm only with you.

He reassures you everytime he has to go back to his missions. Asking you, in what could be soft meaningless whispers that he will return, yet he speaks so desperately that you would be desperate enough to believe him.

Muttering soft wishes as you start to wake. Feeling his presence in front of you as you feel him tremble. The simple act of holding your hand- the edges of your fingers in his palm, silken hand in rough skin that he must shield away with his gloves. Even through the layers of fabric he fears that he will stain, he fears so much that he will shake and tremble.

Begging you to forgive him as he presses his mask to your skin, greedy, selfish. Begging you to stay with him as his covered thumb softly pushes down the tips of your fingers down to his palm, possessive, protective. Eyes darkening softly as he begs you to kiss him, obsessive, heartsick. Eyes shining with tears as you cup the side of his mask, noticing the way he flinches at the slight touch, he needs to protect you, needs to put aside his shame.

And he does as he finally takes off the mask. Letting you see him for who he is. A man, tired and yours.

[kruegerspillow]

“Words are no match” — a Nikto fan fiction.

Creator's note: I've taken quite a liking to Nikto, and I can't help but grief at the lack of fanfics that he deserves to have ! So here is a fic for you underrated Nikto lovers <3

Summary: In which Nikto comes back home after deployment, bringing not just himself, but a handful of gifts you've been wishing to have.

Genre: Pure fluff, I just love this man sm :,D

Warnings: None, no use of gendered pronouns, readers gender is not specified, brief mentions of blood and violence. Not proofread, and I'm writing this at 2 AM :3

Word count: 481

Another peaceful night.

Days, weeks, months has passed since you've seen Nikto. His touch still lingers on your skin, his pale blue eyes plastered into your mind like a koala clinging onto it's tree.

You quietly laid on the bed, exhausted after a long day of studying for your finals. You missed his presence, truly, he made things easier without even realizing it. Thoughts clouded in your mind, memories hitting against each other like bricks.

You've always thought to yourself, was his job really worth his life?

Just as you were about to dozed off, the familiar click of your front door echoed through the hollow rooms. Your eyes shot open, sitting up quickly as you catched a pair familiar eyes through the small gap between the door from your bedroom— Nikto.

You nearly squealed like a school girl, rushing back to your feet as you swung the door open. Rushing towards him, his arms wrapped around your small body— muscles relaxing as he lets out a small huff.

All of that fighting, the blood of living creatures— just to come home to you safely.

Your head muzzled to the crook of his neck, seeking his warmth desperately as the emotions of despair evaporated into the cold air. He chuckled with amusement, chest rumbling before he gave a small peck on your forehead. His mask hid most of his facial features, yet you can feel his smile radiating.

“Nikto,” his named rolled of your tongue, hands on his back as you kept him close to you.

“маленький голубь,” you heard him mutter underneath his breath— voice full of emotions.

The corner of your lip tugs into a warm smile, hearing his voice for the first time after months of loneliness. Suddenly, your eyes catched onto something behind him— letting out a small breath you didn't know you were holding, you pulled away for a brief second just to look up at his eyes.

His arm loosened up around you, looking down at you— seeming absolutely lovestruck to see you again.

“I've.. got something for you,” he murmured out, sounding more excited then you are.

You tilted your head to the side with curiosity, before giving him a small look that says ‘what?’ in such a manner that makes his heart aches. He smiled briefly beneath his mask.

He turned to the side slightly, just to see a handful of gifts— there were things that you have wished for inside of it.Your eyes sparkled with amusement and shocked, not expecting him to bring such a gift for you. Your eyes glanced between him and the gift, before your smile spreads wider.

“Nikto..” you sighed out. “Are you gonna be my new Santa Claus?”

He scoffs, shaking his head in amusement before giving you a small look. His gaze softened at the sight of you.

“Ah, ебать, don't even think of it.”

[dante-mightdie]

This made me sick to think about so maybe you would like it. Sorry this is so long 😭 but my brain worms were at it.

Three months later, Pup reader eventually going into a catatonic state. You stop eating so the handlers eventually put you on an IV and a feeding tube, but when you stop moving, they worry your muscles may start to atrophy. You have already developed sores but still don’t move.

One of the handlers goes rogue and calls John. His number was still on your paperwork when he surrendered you. The handler asks John to reconsider without mentioning what’s happening. He stands firm and says no, just assuming that someone must have returned you back to the shelter. He knows you’ll find a home eventually, but he had enough to deal with at home.

Meanwhile, Simon, Johnny and Kyle are pissed. The new pup John had got was a handful to say the least. Three months of correcting the pup’s behavior over and over again. She was too rambunctious. Not docile like you and didn’t respect boundaries. Where your playful nips at Johnny’s arm would barely register, hers were sharp and painful. She constantly got in whatever bed she pleased and took whatever resources she wanted.

Kyle just relented he became so annoyed, only showing his teeth in warning. Johnny would straight up shoulder check the pup.

Things eventually come to a head when Simon straight up attacks her. He was having as PTSD episode and pup thought it would be a good time to jump on him while he was asleep.

The attack luckily didn’t injure her too badly, but after that she wasn’t submissive, she was aggressive. To everyone. The other pups and even John. Snapping and baring her teeth. It wasn’t until her teeth made contact with John did he realize something needed to be done.

So he called Laswell. She knew the pup needed a female presence and her and her wife were happy to help.

A month passes since the phone call from the shelter. The boys were even more tense than before the other pup left. None of them wanting to be around each other more than necessary. John knew what he had to do.

So he called the shelter, asking had you been adopted yet. An awkward pause before the volunteer on the other line says they need to get their supervisor.

Supervisor informs John that you stopped eating and moving. Because the volunteers could only do so much, they had to put you into a facility that could better help with the long term care you would need.

John is able to pull some strings and get in contact with the facility.

Option 1:

When John goes to the facility, you don’t snap out of it. You don’t believe he’s really came for you. Not when he puts the collar back on your neck or has practically carry you to the car. Not even when the boys surround you, sniffing and pawing.

John has to hand feed you. Even then the boys take over with that, now hating John for what he did to you.

You eventually “come back”, but the fear is always there. You don’t go outside without the boys and you’re always afraid to be alone with John. Forget car rides. The last time you were due for a check up, even having everyone in it did nothing to help your panic attack. Pleading not to go back to the shelter. That you’ll be good. John can hear your soft cries at night before one of the boys eventually crawls in your bed, promising to not let you go again.

Option 2 (I’ll make this short I promise)

The facility didn’t intervene when it came to you wanting to die. That was your choice and the resources couldn’t be wasted. So when John receives a very sincere apology from the facility coordinator that you had chosen to be on the euthanasia list, he is in consolable.

However, a vet tech sees how adorable you are and just can’t let that happen, so they call their cousin.

Zeus was looking for a new pup for oversized hounds to play with.

König all too happy to have a new playmate. He and Nikto often fought over who you would be sharing a bed with before finally just laying down with your in yours. In the middle of the night, Horangi would pull you out of the pile and take you to his own bed.

You eventually started to come back to life. The boys weren’t the same as your other ones, but it was still nice.

John tells the boys you had already been adopted, too afraid of what the truth would do to their dynamic. He has to forever live with the guilt of thinking you had died.

let’s go with option one

c/w: mentions of abandonment trauma, hybrids

there was a period of time where john lost hope that you would get better even after he bought you home. it certainly wasn’t going to stop him and the boys trying, however. john knew how much he’d fucked up when he heard the boys sad whines and yowls when he walked through the door with you

johnny instantly got to work making a nest in the space under the stairs. a cozy dim light hanging above a big pile of duvets and blankets, soft pillows that smell like them. john would give you space as the boys trap you in their arms, scenting over you and nuzzling into your skin until you smell like them again :(

they hold you when you cry, placing kisses to your shoulders and cheeks and the top of your head whisky you let all your sadness out. sometimes, you push them away. wailing that you don’t want them near you right now but eventually you let them back in to cuddle you. you feel weak but you’ve been so lonely and you’ve missed them terribly despite what they did

thinking about how the grief you had been dealing with had thrown your body right off track. not having a natural heat cycle until a good few months after returning home. you didn’t allow any of them in the room with you during that cycle, despite how kyle and johnny whined at the door, begging you to let them come in and take care of you

their whining didn’t last long when simon comes over and snaps at them, telling them to leave you alone whilst the sulk off with flattened ears

it had taken a while for you to warm up to john again. he understood completely. he had completely shattered your heart and trust in them. he wouldn’t put your collar back on until you were completely okay with it. he wanted you to ask. wants it to be something that you want

he begins to think you’ll never forgive him until one night you shuffled into his room nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of you, “can I sleep in here?”

he’d hoped you would at least sleep in his bed with him. let him snuggle you under his big plush duvet and scratch your scalp until you fall asleep but he understands. it’s baby steps. at least now you’ll actually be in the same room as him one on one

[gremlingottoosilly]

🎀𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕝𝕚𝕟'𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥🎀

Hi! I'm Gremlin, I write COD stuff and adore Konig. Mostly write on AO3, but some fics are posted here. I write yandere/perverted/dark stuff mostly, so please be advised. The tamest of my fics are dealing with perversion and romanticized possessive behavior, and the worst ones are straight up kidnapping and torturing. Ask me anything!! I don't deal with extreme degradation, humiliation, piss/scat, hurt/no comfort, but I am fine with dub-con/soft non-con, yandere, kidnapping, perverted behavior etc. I won't write for Nikto, Nikolay or Makarov. I also don't write anything related to the death of the major characters, angst and hurt/no comfort. Shoot me a DM!

My AO3 My ko-fi My TikTok(if needed)

𝒦𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔 𝓍 𝒻𝑒𝓂!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

【Ｏｎｅ　ｓｈｏｔｓ】 Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader) Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader) A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader 1295 kilometers (Konig x fem!Reader, a train ride) Also on AO3!

【Ｓｅｒｉｅｓ】

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 (updated) Also on AO3!

If you need to be mean (husband!yandere!Konig x wife!fem!Reader) [Konig hates his new promotion. Being a colonel only makes him more miserable while forcing to constantly communicate with people below and above his rank. However, meeting a cute civilian on his latest deployment makes his life a bit sweeter.]

The Horror and The Wild (yan!Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Lovefool (yandere!kidnapper!Konig x fem!Reader) [Konig got himself a little trophy from the battlefield.]

Drinking song for socially anxious (monster!Konig x MonsterCaretaker!Reader) [People learned to live alongside monsters. Hybrids are better soldiers and warriors, but they have problems controlling themselves on the battlefield. This is where you came from, as the newest caretaker of a weirdly quiet percht hybrid who seems to never talk to anyone.

You are eager to take care of him, though.]

The Horror and the Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) Fantasy/Medieval AU

[You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor.

Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.]

GHOST X READER Your Ride will be here shortly(poly!yan!141 x fem!Reader) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[zombieplaygrounds]

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

He was staring at you like he loved you.

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

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

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

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

"How soft."

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

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

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

[diejager]

Please, I need a continuation of the story of !kidnapper Krueger and Nikto! Please!!

New Neighbours Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, obsession, non-con touching, condescension, manhandling, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k Boy, it been a fat minute since I wrote that small Drabble.

There was a knock at the door, three blunt and powerful hits of sturdy knuckles shaking your door with how strong - you presumed - the person was. Dropping whatever you were working on, you walked to the door and peering through the peep hole, shocked to see the familiar black and khaki fabrics of your new neighbour. You’ve seen them once or twice in the month between their first move and today, the grizzly look and scarred skin of a brash-toned and brutish man you came to know him as from the few times you met him. He would stare at you, wide, owlish gazes that left you shuddering from the gleam in his brown eyes, a deep-seated darkness as he… appraised you. 

He called himself Sebastian, presenting himself one night when you were stumbling home from a tiring day at work, stopping to help you up the stairs since his door was right across from you. You thought he lived alone, but was surprised to see another man, covered from head to toe in black and army green, hiding any identifiable feather apart from his pale, blue eyes and his broad shoulders, big and bulky even in his skin tight clothes. Sebastian’s roommate had only stared at you, unblinking and unmoving, seconds spent gazing at your anxious and uncomfortable form, messing with your sleeve while Sebastian helped you moved the bags to your kitchen table. 

If you thought Sebastian the weird one, then Nikto - he was spoken for - was the odd one, a fierce man that only knew how to stare silently to upset whatever and whoever he was glaring at. You only saw him once, and that was a blurry and tired view of him from the open doorway across yours when Sebastian was helping you. You had little to go on for him, being more familiar to his roommate and occasionally exchanging a few words when you crossed path —though rarely, the seemingly never left their home.

“Hey, Sebastian,” you tilted your head in greeting, opening your door only wide enough to pop your head out and kept a hand firmly wrapped around the knob in case he did something. You’d always been cautious, and Sebastian and Niktowere suspicious men, “How can I help you?”

“Ja, I need help with something,” his soft, yet brash tone made his accent more apparent, something small but attractive despite your apprehension towards him, “A woman’s touch.”

A woman’s touch? You didn’t know what he meant exactly, but when you looked down to his thick and crooked fingers - perhaps from his work, broken and reset too many times that it started to heal crooked - you could guess what he implied. Your fingers were smaller, lither than his with fat on your knuckles and smaller palms, it made working through small and complex affairs easier. Despite your understanding, you grew uneasy, squinting at him from the safety of your door, but Sebastian was nothing if not determined. So you nodded, excusing yourself to change your clothes from a small top and shorts for a t-shirt and sweatpants before you met him at his entrance, locking your door behind you.

This was your first look into the world they lived in, a bare and minimalist home, scantly decorated apart from the few vests and- was that a gun? And knives littering the kitchen counter with other dangerous items… Seemingly aware of your fright, Sebastian explained how he and Nikto were private contractors, working for a PMC, a private military company, and that they were just on leave, but would always be ready for a call back. Shaking off your paranoia, you followed him deeper into the kitchen, seeing the machinery littered on the table and beside it sat Nikto, ramrod and tense in his seat.

“женщина,” he growled out, his voice so raspy and low that you wondered if it hurt to speak a single word. [Woman]

“Nikto,” you returned, following Sebastian to the table and ignoring Nikto’s wide stare, his vacant eyes and lingering gaze, roving over your body and obsessively admiring you like a hunter would, “Is this what you needed help with?”

Sebastian showed you what he needed, explaining where each small piece went into the box, guiding you around the confusion machinery while Nikto watched, a sentinel in his own flat. You were so engrossed into fixing this small box, brows pinched with concentration get this thing fixed as quick as possible to return to the safety of your apartment, that you missed Nikto’s silent stalk towards you, his broad and silent figure looming over your unsuspecting form until a rough hand gripped your hip. 

You jumped, dropping the box and turned your head to gawk at Nikto, looking back at his - still - vacant eyes and wide and hungry glint. Frowning at him, you sunk your fingers into his hand, trying to move an unmovable wall that pushed himself against you, backing you into the table until he bent you over the now broken box you were first invited to fix. You struggled against Nikto, growling out a warning and clawed at his covered forearms, but it only riled him up. Sebastian stood and watched with a perverted eagerness as Nikto rutted against you, holding you down by the nape, scruffing you like you would a misbehaving dog. 

“Get off me!” You yowled, reaching back with your arms, trying to elbow a man you knew you wouldn’t be able to forcefully remove with how built and big he was, “Get off me, Nikto!”

“Shut up,” you could hear his bared teeth, the cold and condescending tone of his rasp, sliding his knee between your kicking legs, your feet arbitrarily hitting the air, “Stop struggling and listen.”

A low rumble left the man before you, your glare meeting the Austrian who found this situation funny, his chuckle slow and mirthful, finding enjoyment in your useless struggle and hissing. 

“I would listen to him, Schnuckel, ” he lowered himself to show the eagerness in his dark eyes, a cruel smirk curling the corners of his lips and a teasing tilt of his head, “Be good for us, nicht?”

You shouldn’t have accepted to help him, you should have listened to your gut feeling, but you have no one else to blame expect yourself.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

In that type of mood I need a big man to just hold me. I don’t know why I’m suddenly sad, I just wanna be enveloped by someone.

It's very hard just getting, all of a sudden, hit in the chest with a wanting for someone to lay on top of you and let you stroke their hair. In the trenches fr.

That being said, since I need more Nikto in my life and I know you like him as well....a small gift for the holiday season.

Nikto lays on top of you, and your brain has never been more calm. 

Breath puffing out softly, your fluttering eyes slowly blink as your lungs brush your rib cage, stuffed against them as your spine is to the couch cushions. 

“Мягкий,” you hear the low grumble, reverberating through your bones as the bear atop you sighs. Expansive fingers slide up your waist, fingers dragging over flesh and clothes until they dig with a firm yet gentle caress. 

Your face shifts down, nuzzling into the bare skin and the close-cropped hair. Nikto purrs as your hand massages the base of his neck, such a beast brought low by the promise of affection—his heaviness atop you seems to double, and you don’t care in the slightest. 

Kisses and small, soft bites skim your collarbone, the man unable to help himself.

Such a weight he has, and the heat that slips off of his form made you believe that there was a fire under his skin—Russian moving to stoke it as it murmurs; rough. Sand-paper. 

You kiss his scarred head and sag back into the pillows. 

“Любовь моя,” he takes down a long breath, shoving his head farther into your neck. “You are putting us to sleep.”

Your lips flicker, eyes long closed. The living room is warm as well—the fireplace going and the curtains closed; it’s the winter season and the snow that’s falling is probably already thick on the roof. 

The both of you are heavy in a cocoon of nature and care. Trusting mass and massaging hands.

“That’s okay,” you hum to him, moving to whisper into his ear. “Sleep.”

Feeling him chuckle more than hearing it, as well as a low shiver as your nails drag, Nikto huffs slowly. “Да…Perhaps that is good idea.” 

“I’m full of those,” your honeyed smile peels back your lips. 

Nikto’s arms tighten on you, pinning you under him—like a weighted blanket that you never want to drag yourself out from. 

“Prideful,” he smirks into your skin, stifling a yawn. 

“Who do you think I got that from?” 

The Russian chuffs, but it isn’t long before you feel his heart slow and move steady—it mirrors your own. The delicate conversation of hot air and breathless voices fades into a devoted silence; holding one another tightly. 

You listen to Nikto’s breath, feel it spread over your flesh. It holds you here, in this moment. You feel the weight of him; you feel his hands. On him, you continue to trace those scars—the deep ones, the brutal ones.

Just as he helps you, you help him; even if your touch can only do so much. 

And, most of all, you let yourself get the rest that you need, never feeling more secure, or loved, than in this very moment. 

Nikto’s hands never leave your flesh for even a moment.

[frogchiro]

Dear Kin,

Do you think Nikto makes his sweet nurse wear a blindfold during sex? He doesn't want her seeing his face and being grossed out :((

Also... what kind of dirty talk would this man say during coitus? Pre-coitus? Post-coitus?

I also HC him as having some very very very deep mommy issues because of his upbringing (he's not gonna show it please my boobs in his mouth)

This is me, a slavic girl writing about a disgusting slavic man bc yeah and I love this :(( I hoarded this ask just bc I love this so much so I'm sorry to keep you waiting nonnie ;;

Honestly? Nikto is the type to dirty talk all the time and it's so out of pocket he'll leave you like???

Nikto is a...specific man; he's deeply troubled and traumatised with more issues than fingers but on the other hand he's a absolutely nasty and perverted man with absolutely no filter, that of course includes dirty talk. Likes to randomly get close to you and growl in that low gravely voice about how he wants to cum all over you, make you walk all day with his thick sperm on your skin so he knows that even if you're out of the house you're still marked as his.

I like to think that Nikto's dirty talk is based mostly on the idea of ownership and possession. Due to his mommy issues (and daddy issues too tbh because I imagine his father leaving when he was young but old enough to remember and then he had to suffer his mother's wrath because she blamed him as the cause why his father left since he was an 'oops baby') he has the almost pathological need to keep 'his' things, that includes people too, as close as he can and hates sharing.

But yes, Nikto is also someone who, simply put, is a boobs in my mouth guy😭 He adores the idea of you all soft and pregnant with his baby and although he doesn't necessary wants the baby part (he believes he's too old and scarred to give you a baby) he still is obsessed with you being all heavy and dependent on him; just the knowledge that he was the cause of it, that he was the one who helped making the cub kicking in your belly and tying you to him in the most primal way just gets him going like nothing else </3

[charliemwrites]

Part 7

Content: sparring and injury

Sparring is one of your favorite activities. With your team, it’s a chance to learn and improve, to keep from falling into old habits. And yes, okay, it’s also become something of foreplay. Especially with your captain, who seems to delight in tossing you around and pinning you with his bulk.

(And Keegan, who came in his pants once when you had him in a chokehold, one your thighs between his. But no, no, now is not the time to think about that…)

You’re not the best hand-to-hand operator on the team, sure. That title belongs to Nikto, who hits so hard and fast you’re down before you even realize he’s swinging. But you’re certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Not this much though.

If you were in the mood to give them credit for anything — and you’re really not — they’re at least subtle. You don’t catch on during the first round with Soap. Your brain has completely transitioned into the comfortable rhythm of practice combat. Something to be taken seriously, but not the high-stress of victory or death in a mission.

No, Soap gets away with it in the moment. You only notice as you’re taking your water break, rotated out with the uneven numbers between your teams. You’re surveying the pairs and notice him sparring with Keegan.

There’s something decidedly more intense about it. Like… like he’s putting real effort into trying to beat Keegan. An effort he did not put into fighting you.

Rage burns through you, hot and thick, buzzing in your head.

Does he think you’re not worth any real effort? Does he think you can’t handle a proper fight, that this is just playtime? Is he really treating you like some fresh-faced recruit that needs to be babied after all this time?

When you captain finishes wiping the floor with Gaz, you go to his side. One look at your face and he knows.

“Whose head is rolling?” He asks, plucking your bottle from your hand for a sip.

“Soap threw our match.”

His eyes flare before he closes them, swallows the water in his mouth and sighs.

“How do you want to handle it?” He asks.

“Wait, wait,” Gaz interrupts. And the look your captain gives him… Christ. To his credit, he doesn’t back down though. “He probably just thought it would be good, yeah? To… let you get some anger out.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, a mean laugh slipping out. The captain arches his eyebrows in what could almost be sympathy. Or arousal, hard to tell when he’s got such a good poker face. (Mix of both, you figure)

“Oh, he wants me to get some anger out?” You roll your shoulders. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Ghost is your last match before reset — before you’ll get a chance to show Soap just how much steam you need to let off.

Except now that you’re looking for it, you recognize almost immediately that he’s throwing the match. Probably especially because it’s Ghost. You never stood a chance against him before leaving, even now you didn’t have optimistic expectations for a fight with him. So the fact that it doesn’t feel like you’re working for every inch you gain…

The final straw is when you try a move from before. Something he never fell for once and always reprimanded you for using. He “falls” for it this time. You don’t pull your punch when it goes directly into his face.

Know immediately that he’s feeling it, that wicked hook Keegan always whistles over. Blinking past his mask. And you don’t let up, pressing and pressing the advantage. Take him down to the ground using all your built strength, twisting into a vicious arm bar and pulling, pulling, pulling—

“Bloody hell, I yield!” He snarls, palm slamming against your thigh.

You release him, but not without one last nasty kick to the soft spot beneath his ribs.

The gym has gone silent. You don’t care, pushing to your feet with hands still balled into tight, angry fists.

“You ever throw a fight with me again, I’ll break your fucking jaw, Riley,” you snarl.

Price, expression stormy, takes a step forward.

“He threw the fight?” He asks.

You scoff, “Either that or the 141’s quality is lacking nowadays.”

You step off the mat to join the rest of your team, exchange a frustrated look with your captain. Nova comes to your side, curling a finger into your belt loop in solidarity.

“Gotta say, Price, I’m disappointed,” your captain says. “This is getting out of control. I won’t have my team put at risk because yours can’t keep it professional. I’d rather just tell Laswell to get you a different support team.”

You’re almost surprised to see how the 141 jolts, four pairs of eyes flicking to you in panic. What in the actual hell?

“Take it easy,” Price says, eyes flashing. “I’ll have a word with them.”

You glance up at your captain, see from the twitch in his jaw and the tightness around his eyes that his patience for this is wearing gossamer thin.

“See to it. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do.”

He turns his back on the 141, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, pressing a kiss to Nova’s cheek when she sends you a worried look. Whatever weird issue the 141 is having, they need to stop making it your issue.

“Keegan, with me,” your captain says. “Nikto, you’re up against the girls.”

Nikto tilts his head in a nod, then jolts as you and Nova take either side of him.

“Gonna show us a good time, Nik?” You coo.

“Always love a tag-team,” Nova purrs.

The captain grins. “Have fun you three.”

[yawnderu]

Do you think Nikto would mind a lil head or hand while being washed?

>Nikto would absolutely love a handjob while you're washing his body!!<3

Your touch does wonders to Nikto's exhausted body, his scarred face contorted into an expression you're too familiar with— his brow scrunched up, teeth bared and his head thrown back, resting against the steamy tiles on the wall.

“Don't stop.” His tone is shaky, barely even managing to talk, not when your hand is wrapped around his veiny cock, slick with his own precum that seems to be unable to stop leaking all over. The bathroom is filled with his loud groans, every single muscle on his body tensing up when your sweet tongue darts out of your lips, licking a bead of his salty, creamy precum.

His rough, calloused hands darts to the back of your head, pushing you closer and closer until his meaty cock slips into your mouth, dragging a surprised yelp out of you until you're able to relax your throat, allowing him to move inside despite the tears in your eyes from your previously triggered gag reflex.

Your soft, warm hands go down to his thighs, feeling the thick mass of muscle tensing up beneath your touch as Nikto fucks your throat, both hands reaching down to cup your cheeks and guide your movements. Seeing your pretty, tear-stained face and the saliva pooling on your chin is enough to send the already exhausted men over the edge, trying his best to keep his eyes from rolling back to his head as he shoots ropes of his thick seed down your throat, caressing your cheeks when you swallow it all without hesitation.

[haven-1307]

Nikto head cannons.

• this man is not soft or sweet. I’m sorry but he’s just not.

• like yes I do truly believe he is capable of loving someone but he’s got so much built up trauma he’s just trying to survive at this point.

• he’s very quiet and reserved but if you talk to him he will talk back.

• i truly believe this man is unnecessarily difficult with affection. Like, yeah. He craves it but he’s never ever going to insinuate it.

• his dirty talk is UNMATCHED. It’s next level dirty, this man is disgusting with it at times.

• he’s so obsessive. Like, once he lets you in (which tbh you can’t really tell a difference - he doesn’t even really speak to those he likes. ) he’s following you around like a wounded puppy when he can. He’s your own shadow.

• scary dog privileges. need I say more?

• unlike how I see ghost, the mask remains a big part of his life with his lover. It’s part of him, always will be.

• this man is POSSESSIVE. You are his and his alone, god forbid any sorry soul who dares look at you for even a second.

• avid dog hater, doesn’t like cats either but will tolerate them.

• he will never have kids. He will fight until the day he dies and he doesn’t want his kids growing up like that. Also I don’t think he could mentally cope with them.

• He can and will pick you up and roughhouse you a little if you like that. If not, then you need to teach him to be gentle.

• Hes such a pleaser to you. You are his god and he worships you with everything he has.

[bigmoizt]

"What do you mean? Are you saying he's a pervert?"

Obsessive Nikto x Fem!Reader - Slight Smut

Nikto forgot what it felt like to have a crush. His youth so far behind him, it felt like he was a whole different person. He has always viewed it as a childish thing. Obsessing over someone, just for a chance to be with them.

Caught in the aftershock of a failed mission, the med bay was crowded by fucked up looking soldiers and even more fucked up looking nurses struggling to take a few patients at a time.

You got off your break as fast as you could, putting on a surgical mask before going to the entrance to see if you could assist anyone.

A man with his face totally covered by a mask and full tactical gear limped into the room, and you rushed to his side. As you guided him to an empty bed amidst the flock of people, Nikto felt something he hasn't felt in years.

As he walked with you, an arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder, his cock twitched. He watches as you tend to his wounds with your trembling hands, how you stared at his toned physique, how your face pouts if he shows any sign of pain.

With everything you did, his cock hardened in his pants. A bulge was visible from a mile away, and he did his best to hide it from you. Thank all the gods that exist because you never even glanced there. What an innocent girl you are.

After you tended to his wounds, you determined he was free to leave.

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir. Do you need a prescription for pain medication?"

Your sweet voice asked him. Instinctively, he nodded. You gave a smile before scurrying away to get the prescription.

Nikto looked down at his bulge. It was starting to get painful. He could see a small wet spot on the tip, and he tried his best to look like he just spilled some water on his pants.

A few minutes later, you came back with a piece of paper. Your soft hands handed it to him, before thanking him for coming and leaving.

Nikto read the paper, seeing the prescription for paracetamol under his name. Then seeing your name as the nurse who authorised it.

Your name was a perfect fit for you. It felt like it was hand crafted to suit you. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue late at night as he fists his rock-hard cock to the thought of you.

[simonrillleyyysss]

I think 20 minutes req time is up but 😳 please anything about kissing Nikto 🫣 i have to

ugh i love nikto with my entire body and soul

he.is.a.messy.kisser

full stop, this man is messy. messy room, messy eater, messy mindset—messy kisser, no doubt about it! and he’s so proud, too. he is so confident, doesn’t care if you’re complaining about how he’s shoving his tongue down your throat, what? he can’t hear you.

in his mind, if you’re not tonguing him like it’s your last kiss before death—it’s not a proper sesh, he does not go slow nor usually enjoy it; rushes!! panics!! he!! is!!panicky!! he loves making out, but he does it so hurriedly.

your hands gently framed his scarred cheeks, lips mingling together in such a tender motion—before he suddenly grabbed your waist and practically rammed his tongue down your oesophagus, tensing beneath him n’ gently pushing him away with your freehand

he’s so.so.so confused, cocking his head and furrowing his brows in offence—do you not think he’s a good kisser? handsome enough? is he going too slow?? this man has 100 thoughts and only 1 brain to store them in, he’s puzzled

‘nikto—i wanna go slow..kay? don’t need t’rush anything..’

‘i am not rushing, Лисичка—we’re simply enjoying it..’

you can’t help but sigh, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his softly, thumb caressing his cheek as you cocked your head to the side, humming soft praises into his mouth, his shoulders easing :,(

‘you are so good, nikto.’

‘i..you treat me,’

short pauses inbetween, panting and trying to gather himself, he’s so easily worked up

‘you treat me very well, Малы́шка..’

giggling, you pulled away and scratched the back of his neck comfortingly, his head burrowing into your chest like a cat, shutting his eyes.

…

‘are you fucking hard—?’

[agoofyannoyancetolaw]

Masked

a/n: is nikto a war criminal? Yes. Is he also a silly trans man I wanna shag? Mhm. Oh- also this one has utterly no plot, it’s just smut an per usual I don’t proof-read these 👍

Minors DNI

“поиметь-!” Nikto cried out as he tried desperately to match your thrusts, his pretty cunt swallowing your member in its pretty pink fold- his uniform sticking to his sweaty skin as tears pricking up in his eyes. “P-please darling, please-.” He begged as his bluntly cut nails dug into you, leaving red lines down your back.

this had to be at least the third time he came around your cock, his whimpers muffled him biting his lip as your tip softly kissed his cervix with every thrust, his whines from beneath his mask filling the room around you.

Soft little ‘ah-‘ sounds filled your ears as he clamped down on your cock like a vice, a small sheen of sweat covering his body as he shakily worked himself up and down on your girth. He just wanted to spend time with his lover while wearing his mask per usual- but a night of drinks and flirty remarks and ended him up in this position of being skewered onto your cock, grasping for purchase as your tip hit deep inside him again- his eyes fluttering closed as his eyes rolled back, back arching and seeing white.

he could feel the foggy wave of overstimulation hit him hard as he came down from his climax, the only thing keeping him awake was the warm feeling of your thrusts into him stuttering to a stop and the soft sensation of your arms holding him as you sat him up on the bed and cleaned him up a bit, praises falling from your mouth that he was too tired to hear as he slipped into sleep.

It was nice for him to finally have someone with him- to not be alone.

[idontknowreallyidontcare]

SOFT NIKTO FOR MY NIKTO GIRLS.

Nikto all needy for your pussy, coming into your room at late hours, he’s not even knocking at your door, he just opens it slowly, careful not to wake you up just yet. He gets close to your bed and admires your sleeping form for quite a bit, feeling embarrassed to actually wake you up only because his dick is aching with desire.

He lowers himself onto your bed, and you feel his presence, slowly opening your eyes as you meet his gaze. He excuses himself, he says sorry over and over again, but his hands are still continuing to lower your panties, no matter how sorry he is.

As he uncovers your glistening pussy, he can’t do anything but deeply moan from the pleasure of just seeing you bare and spread for him.

He takes his mask off, and implores you to sit on his face, it’s late, you’re sleepy, but you love him so much, and seeing him so needy only makes you melt more.

You allow him to take your place on the bed, getting comfortable and finally laying down. The moment your pussy makes contact with his mouth, he forgets everything, where he is, who he is and whatever is going on around him. Only thing he cares about is you and your sweet pussy.

His hand travels down his pants as he masturbates himself while eating you out. He’s been doing this almost every night, into the loneliness of his room, masturbating while he thinks of your pussy, but having you actually ride his face feels different, no matter how many times he licks and tongue fucks you, he’ll never get used to it, he’ll never get TIRED of it.

He lives to serve you, lives so you can use and fuck and discipline him whenever you feel like it. He’s a bad boy, treat him like one. Use his face as your personal sex toy, make him rub his nose on your clit until you squirt all over him. Make him dirty, and after let him fuck you nice and good, because no matter how much he enjoys being used by you, he’ll never admit how much of a weakness you actually are, so he’ll put you to sleep with his cock, whispering into your ear how dirty and a slut you are for him, just to go to bed and hope that one day he’ll have the courage to actually let himself being fucked by you, let himself being controlled.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ICARUS (XI)

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

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t too sure if you would.

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

You still couldn’t tell which was worse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A handful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He enjoyed last night. Immensely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just that one.

‘I know what you did.’

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re getting confident now.”

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

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

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

There’s a face in your ear.

“One good fuck has you trained, hm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

You smile slowly. “It sounded nice?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums deep in his breast, gaze molten heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He says the vehicle is not acting correctly.”

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

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

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

Nikto has a bad feeling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Galina’s voice pushes through. 

“Where are you currently?”

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

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

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

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

But everybody here was trustworthy, weren’t they? 

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

Galina spares no chance to breathe between rapid clipped sentences. 

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

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

The air was alive with a cord ready to snap.

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

Your feet speed up to the car almost instinctively. 

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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