Omg He Is So Fucking Blunt Your Depiction Of Nikto Gives Me LIFE

Omg he is so fucking blunt 💀💀💀 your depiction of Nikto gives me LIFE 🙏😭💓

ACKDKSJDJSJSKAKSJDJSSDD

^^^^PLEASE BECAUSE VECAUSE I COULD VISUALISE THIS VIVIDLY IN MYNMIND?????? 😭😭😭

the immediate contradiction of his "chivalrous gesture" ☠️☠️,, like damn what the fuck were we expecting, 😭😭😭 for him to pay for our groceries too? (maybe 💔)

///

HE IS SO SOCIALLY AWKWARD LIKE I CAN LITERALLY FEEL THE SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT FIRST-HAND 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ITS AS IF ITS HIS FIRST TIME INTERACTINT WITH ANOTHER LIVING BREATHING HUMAN BEING AND HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO LMFOAOAKAHDUHRJEHF,,, I FEEL SO BAD) but also, like,, 🗿 "Your garden is shit" seems so in character for him???! 🤨

,

It's actually horrific how much this made me blush like, 🤯

Oh to have Nikto tell me im fuckable 😢😢😢😢😿😿😿😢😢😿💔💔💔💔💔🙏🙏🙏🤲🙏🙏🙏🤲🤲🤲🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

"soft slow fuckin with Nikto sounds real good." i'm panting like a dog in heat LOL It really does sound good. Honestly I could drown your inbox with asks about him, howeeevvverrr my brain is fixated on him awkwardly attempting to woo/ get to know us. like how is he going to integrate himself into our life especially as non verbal as he tends to be. would we no think his presence is creepy? or maybe he protected us when we first met so now whenever we see him we kind of just feel safe ?

-🥷

My lil bestie 🥷 drown me in Nikto I’m happy with that what a way to go!!!

So I’ve written the origins of husband Nikto 🥲 I got so carried away apologies and I could literally go on about this forever. Shall I make a part two?! Maybe I’ll make a part two…

At first you thought absolutely nothing of it.

You had promised your best friend a meal of delicacies from her home country as a birthday gift, knowing how much she missed her mothers cooking. After tears on your shoulder, you offered to make her a feast if she gave you some ideas.

Dutifully then, you trudged down to the special supermarket on the edge of town, the one that stocked a wide range of eastern treats. It wasn’t familiar territory for you, the fluorescent lighting and shelves towering with jars covered in Cyrillic writing. But a promise is a promise after all.

You spent way too long trying to decipher the meaning of things, staring down at the little scribbled names your pal had written for you on the back of a receipt. Just about every tin looked the same. Frustration started to itch at the seams of your mind, as you leant upwards to examine a canister of black cherries.

Actually you might buy these, they look so tasty.

“Lost?”

The voice behind you is harsh, making you jump nearly out of your skin, a thick accent drenched in gravel. Turning, you give yourself a second fright. There’s a man stood behind you in the narrow aisle, a solid wall of muscle and sinew, black balaclava revealing nothing but a pair of suspicious, bright blue eyes shrouded under dark brows.

“I’m okay thank you.” Your voice comes out in a squeak and those unreadable orbs narrow slightly. He’s carrying a plastic basket that seems comically small in his large hand, dressed entirely in dark colours, compression gear layered under looser fitting garments. It looks like he’s about to bring the city to its knees in a hail of bullets. That or he’s in the witness protection program.

He glances down at the receipt held fast in your fist.

“Those.” He points at the cherries. “Are not on your list.”

Jesus fuck he’s so blunt, like painfully so.

“I know that.” Your reply is a little snappy and it causes his eyebrow to quirk upwards. “I just thought they looked nice.”

He lets out a huff of something that sounds like mirth, then snatches the list out of your palm before you can stop him. You think better of trying to grab it back.

“Black cherries are good.” The man is skimming the list. “Good for tea.”

You supress an urge to roll your eyes at him, you haven’t come here for a chat, not that he seems the type to want to talk.

“Come.” He crooks his fingers at you like a dog, then makes to stride up the aisle. When you don’t immediately follow, he eyes you imperviously. Just the look he gives you, has you scurrying along in his wake, nervously holding your jar of fruit like it’s a talisman.

The man doesn’t talk to you again, except to mutter stuff to himself in what you suspect is Russian. Gradually he places items into your basket, while you inspect them. Credit to him, he does actually seem to be collecting the things you need.

You watch him, the way his gaze remains steadily engrossed in whatever he’s doing, reading tiny labels and crouching to tug things from the dusty back of shelves. You notice he’s wearing gloves inside, the worn palms suggesting they’re constantly in use. His own basket is full of sweet jams, peppermints and candies in brightly coloured packaging with unrecognisable cartoon characters on them.

“Sweet tooth?” You ask him. The man just looks at you blankly in response and you wonder whether he’s being rude on purpose.

After another five minutes of murmuring that’s incomprehensible to your ears, he passes you the list back, your full basket weighed down. In a strangely chivalrous gesture he takes it from you, seemingly unfazed by how heavy it is.

“Anything else?” You shake your head and he nods towards the counter.

“You pay then.”

Frowning, you follow this strange guy over to the cash desk. He observes you handing over cash for your goods and then struggling off with two heavy bags.

You don’t know it, but Nikto is just as perplexed as you are. From the minute he saw you holding his favourite brand of cherries, he was utterly engrossed in you. At first he wondered if you were Russian, considered trying to talk to you in his mother tongue, then decided against it. You looked too confused by everything to be able to read Cyrillic.

He hesitates for a minute, paying for his treats with little care or attention. It’s not in his nature to be helpful, or to care about strangers. But something about you calls out to him, you’re sweeter by far than any of the food he’s just bought. Something is shouting at him, gnawing in the pit of his chest. A heady need to be in your presence for a few moments longer.

You’re halfway up the street, still limping along with your bags when he catches up to you. Without saying anything, he takes one off you and then another, making himself look like a packhorse in the process.

“I don’t need more help thank you!” You try and hoist the bags back, but he clings on with grim determination, gazing down at you sternly.

“Don’t be stubborn.” He replies flatly. Then he gestures up the road. “I will walk you home. Get!”

He speaks that last word as an order, plain and simple, like you’re an unruly mare that needs taming. Only because he won’t accept any of your protests, you end up letting him walk you to the corner of your street. You don’t talk and he doesn’t either, just plodding along in your wake silently and frightening people passing by.

“This is fine thanks.”

You’re not about to show the oddball where your home is. The man lets out a snort.

“I can find out where you live little one, it is not a great mystery.”

His porcelain eyes glitter a little wickedly in his mask, as you mouth soundlessly at him, caught between annoyance and no shortage of concern. Then he makes to stride up the road, looking into peoples windows, a fierce figure who’s bound to frighten all of your older neighbours.

“Stop that!” You snarl, jogging to keep up with his pace.

He lets out a low chuckle, a rasping file of amusement against a steel trap of reluctance.

“Then show me which is your place da?”

You lead him up your garden path, while he takes in the overgrown borders and ragged lawn.

“This garden is shit.”

“Yes, thank you I’m aware.”

That encourages another harsh bark of mirth as he follows you into your little house. He looks around from the corners to the ceiling, like he’s scoping out the exits. He hasn’t seemed skittish until now. Placing your bags down smartly, he starts to rock nervously on the balls of his large feet.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Russian caravan?” He asks hopefully.

“No English breakfast.”

You can see his nose wrinkle under the fabric covering his face, but he just sighs.

“Da, black with cherries.”

The man observes you carefully, hawk eyed and watchful as you make his drink. With another huff of impatience he takes over when it comes to adding the fruit, placing several viscous, rich cherries into the steaming mug.

He doesn’t sit when you do, leaning uncomfortably against the counter like he’s afraid of settling down. It’s as if he’s never been in a home before, a feral animal coaxed inside by the promise of a juicy bone to gnaw on.

“Your house is less shit than it’s garden.”

“Thanks very much.”

He just nods, then turns away from you. It takes you a minute to realise he’s drinking, and that he obviously doesn’t want to show you his face. That strikes more sympathy than you’ve felt for this strange creature thus far.

“I appreciate your help.”

He just grunts and then the silence is lingering, spiralling out of control until you’re cringing with it.

“You cook?” The man peers into the bags again, then directs his line of vision questioningly back at you.

“It’s for a friend.”

“Which friend?” He snaps, suddenly irritated. As if he’s asking you that when he knows precisely none of your mates. You blink at him and gradually he seems to collect himself.

“A boyfriend?” His tone is careful, with a delicate undercurrent of a threat laced within it, hands balling into fists over his cup. Your scowl in response encourages another low huff from him.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Why did you admit that? You should have said something to the tune of your fella being due home in an hour. Now he’s never going to leave.

“How? You are fuckable.”

Your cheeks grow hot, like someone’s lit a fire in your face.

“None of your business.”

He barks again, not so much a dog, more like a tattered grey wolf, mouth savage and eyes wild.

“Do you have a name?”

The man totally ignores you.

“Tomorrow I will come back and work in the garden.”

The way he tells you that, leaves no room for debate and when the next day dawns, he’s already working away. You watch him anxiously from the front door, hastily pulled on clothes over your pyjamas.

“It’s six am! You can’t be serious!”

The guy raises an eyebrow at your hushed shout, what little you can see of his face looks unconcerned.

“For fucks sake come inside.”

You make him another cup of tea and this time he sits down gingerly at the table, still uneasily gazing around like someone might jump out at him.

“You don’t need to do my gardening for me! I’m perfectly capable of doing it, I just need time.”

He shrugs off your argument, toying with his untouched cup. Another bolt of sympathy strikes you at that.

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth, don’t go anywhere.”

The man looks at you and for one glimmering moment you catch a softness in his eyes.

“I am not going anywhere little one.” He pauses, after he points back to your threadbare front lawn. “It will be nice for you, once I am done.”

Utterly confused, you start to climb the stairs.

HNNNGGG someone hold me back from continuing this I can foresee another Virgin!König situation arising omgggggg

FLUFFY NIKTO!!! 🗣️FLUFFY NIKTO!!! 🗣️FLUFFY NIKTO!!! 🗣️

ACKDHUEHDJDJSDJD 😭😭😭😭🙏💕💕💞💞💞💞💕💕💞💕💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

i love u fluffy nikto. nikto bath (sfw!!) fic soon ?

[headlock - imogen heap]

nikto who finds comfort in domestic, quiet things after retirement.

nikto thought that he would be the kind of man who still takes mercenary work every once in a while, and remains tethered to a hot gun and cold battlefield. but when he settles into the quiet life and realizes that this is not weak, not shameful, he decides that maybe he’ll indulge in something close to domestic.

he picks up a job at the corner store a block away to keep his hands busy. it’s something lighthearted, easy. heavy machinery blaring in his ears and the hollers of workers would bring him back to the field. no, he prefers the quiet of a mom-and-pop shop. nikto doesn’t mind eating the kasha and smokey cutlets you prepared the night prior for lunch in the silent storage room.

in the beginning, when he comes home from work, he likes to pretend that he’s returning from a long deployment. it’s easy to trick himself when he looks at how you smile and fret over him, asking if it was too much and whether your cooking was up to par. 

but you don’t have to cry now and look up at him through bleary eyes, having been worried sick. no, you know that he will come home now. if you miss him, he’s only a five or six-minute walk away.

he likes to do things for you. if the chair to your vanity is wobbly, he’ll pick it up and lug it away to repair it in the backyard. if you’re having trouble painting your nails, he’ll take the brush and shakily apply it. you laugh at how he smears it all over your skin. when it’s time to bathe, it’s a guarantee that nikto will step in with you. he’ll lightly wash your back, taking care not to fiercely scrub. 

retirement isn’t so bad when he looks at the little things. he gets to wake up to you every morning, and never leaves you cold in bed, wondering where he is.

Two exams tomorrow...

History and Psychology...

😀🔫

Getting the highest grade in His but a barely passing grade in Psy guys!!!! 😍😍😻

Writing Nikto headcanons rn 😳😳

Need the man so bad ..... 😔...

Sorry for taking forever Anon💕💕 (😭😭)

@dobaddo💞 thank you for the Niktonedits and helping me build my collection 😈😈,, Best homie out there frfr 🙌

**im not cutting off the VectorStock im cackling 😭😭😭 guys im too high for this rn these exams are gonna be the end ofnke yall...

Me rereading this and seeing 10+ grammar errors and typos:

Okay okay I have to ask, what’s your fav head canons of Nikto then? I love hearing other people’s ideas and head canons of cod characters ^^ 💕

Ngl, i get inspired by other people's headcanons, and i make headcanons off THEIR headcanons 🥲👍… I'm unoriginal 😔💔

SOOOO, im “” Tagging”” (by that i mean putting // after the @ so the original creators dont get the notifcation for this LMAO=) blogs whose own works inspired me to create my own headcanons 🥰❤️

General Nikto Headcanons ❤️

Word Count: 1,584.

Tag List: ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23 ♡ @dobaddo ☆ @the-second-sage ☆ @wil-xyz ☆ @revnatheshadow ☆ @feelya

Allusions to NSFW beneath the cut! Readers are warned.

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Blunt and straight to the point. Sees no rhyme nor reason in beating around the bush and sugarcoating his words. As a result, he can be viewed as insensitive and lacking in empathy.

Impatient, and has a short fuse, so blows up often. Only you are able to be the calm after his storm, subduing him with soft reassurances and whispered words.

To say that he is possessive would be an understatement — he is extremely territorial.

After his torture, he is wary of the few things that he posesses and can actually call his own (you). His biggest phobia is losing you, and his irrational fear is someone stealing you away. Any prick unlucky enough to not catch on to you two dating will be lucky enough to survive the beating that he is given.

On that note, he is simultaneously self-assured, and insecure.

His mask is a part of him, and personal. It will take him months for him to shed said part of him.

Constantly fears that you will leave him once he reveals his face to you, so puts it off for as long as he possibly can. The day that he takes off his mask, only for you to be so casual about it and passing it off as your day-to-day, is the day that became cemented in his hard, stony heart.

Has conflicting views towards marriage. On the one hand, is an official document declaring your relationship really so necessary? Isn't an expensive wedding superfluous, and too sensational? To him, all of that is redundant — he's yours, and you're his…

…On the other hand, a glistening ring on your finger invokes a primal desire to make you more his than you are already. It would be a declaration of a love which even death wouldn't do part. Maybe he should pay more attention to the rings on display at the jewellery stores you pass by when shopping occasionally together.

An introverted man, who finds solace in solitude; excluding you, his partner, he has no companions, and rarely associates with anyone else. The voices in his head are bothersome enough, so why does he need additional voices bothering him? With that said, you would think that your presence would be a bother — especially with your mindless chatter when Nikto doesn't grunt at the idle small talk at times, wholly unresponsive for the majority of the time — but the moment you give any indication of leaving, he seizes your wrist, his cold, icy eyes silently pleading for you to stay. And you do. You always do.

Bringing me onto my next point: he is a good listener. Your ramblings are all that to you; ramblings. To Nikto, however, it's his chance to unpick all the information about you, down to the littlest of details. You wrongly assume that your words fall on deaf ears, but he listens, and he memorises every opinion you have, every statement you make, and even the small anecdotes that you share, which becoming engraved in his brain. He goes over every sentence religiously, as if it was the Bible.

He has an exceptionally good memory, tending to remember things that you had forgotten. Mention something that you craved in passing? He would surprise you with it the next time you bring it up. Alluded to someone who insulted you and ruined your day? Well, it would be no surprise that that person would never ruin your day ever again.

He is like a cat in the sense that he is an unwanted stray. However, when you came to want him, it dawned on you that he was no cat, but a panther. A predator — savage, vicious.

He would kill for you, no questions asked (He has already done it, but you don't know about that. After all, you hadn't asked him that question yet, only in jest. Truth be told, he has made so many death threats that you have become desensitised to them, dismissing them as nothing more than that: threats).

He would have died for you (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE @//charliemwrites’s DEPICTIONNOF NIKTO IN THIS SCENE??????? HAD ME ON MY KNEES 🛐💍🧎🏼‍♀️ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE VI NEED HIM SOVBAD); however, when you were hyperventilating as you sobbed and were close to reaching hysterics, that's when he realised that he should value his life more.

Incredibly stealthy. You've seen his execution animations… 🤒 Uses that stealth to sneak up on you whenever your guard is down to smack your ass. 🤭

Insomnia troubles him at night, the relief of sleep rarely coming to him; therefore, he tends to be nocturnal, buying groceries and going about the usual errands you would have otherwise done during the day. When you wake up, that empty fridge is magically stocked with your favourite food, your bear snoozing sometimes — most of the time he stares at you like a creep. 💀 /aff

When he does sleep, it tends to be during the day, and it's almost as if he is a bear entering hibernation

He sleeps like a plank — on his back, his arms by his sides, and his legs straight. You'll curl onto his side, your head on his chest, his legs between your core, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

Snores. REALLY loud. 😬 ONLY when you are in his arms 🙄 — when he sleeps alone, he is eerily silent.

Subsequently finding him laying in bed, still and silent, you were sobbing, thinking that he died in his sleep. Finally, after minutes of shaking him awake, he opened one eye, and grumbled groggily: “Дорогая, shut up. I am not dead. Not when I have you to live for. Now, come.”

Once he is asleep, good luck getting him to wake up again; unless you somehow manage to disentangle yourself from his arms — only then, when his myshka is missing, does he begrudgingly get up from bed, stand outside the bathroom door, and whisk you back to bed, willfully ignoring your complaints.

Proud of being your protector. Always has his hand[s] on you in some way or other, protectively keeping you by his side.

Has 20/20 vision, and perfect hearing.

Don't mistake his opening of pickle jars and water bottles for you as chivalry — he is taking advantage of it to show off his muscles for you. Doesn't want you to ask if you want to cup a squeeze of his bicep — when he sees you staring, he will forcibly take your hand and put it on his arm, positively smirking beneath that mask of his.

Has a staring problem and is unashamed of it. From his point of view, there is no problem in staring at you all day and every day.

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Eye contact with him is intense. Whenever you avert your gaze, he instantly grabs your chin to angle it so it's facing him. Eye contact during sex is a given.

Despite not wanting to be a father, he has an insatiable breeding kink (does not care whether you are a female, a male, an infertile female, or other — he is delusional in that sense).

Although he isn't against children per se — mainly indifferent to them, if I'm honest — wouldn't want to pass on the generational trauma onto his brood. He would prefer his bloodline ending with him.

His dirty talk is so filthy that you get wet from just his voice and innuendo. (Thank you @//xoxunhinged for your headcanon 😫💦)

His animalistic instincts are so prominent that you've become convinced that he purrs whenever you stroke that sensitive spot on his scalp, and growls in between grunts as he thrusts into you.

Is rough, leaving dark hickeys and bruises, but he would never, ever hurt you. He's rougher than most, but has sufficient self-restraint to be realise ahead of time if he is making you uncomfortable.

You are his deity, and he worships you — if he was to ever hurt you, he would enter a state of loathing. Since you were a merciful God, he would take the liberty of punishing himself — retribution suited to his crime.

One time you two were play wrestling and he almost dislocated your hip on accident. He didn't touch you again for at least two weeks, until he finally considered himself worthy of your touch.

Is dominant in bed, for two major reasons: because he prefers exerting the control which was forced upon him, relishing in having you submit to him; manhandling you to showcase his strength

A third reason is because if you were to ever top him, he'd cum embarrassingly quickly.

Probably gets off to being stronger than you. Deliberately puts you in positions which render you powerless, only able to take what he gives you.

Whenever you enter his room, he always sits in the darkness. Insists: “I do not need lights. Lights are wasted when I can see in the dark.”

Which is true... but it is also a pretence to hide the concerningly detailed shrine taking up an entire wall, dedicated to you. You'll come to find all of your lost trivial belongings when you mistakenly flick on the light switch.

His loyalty and devotion is unparalleled to any other's. He is utterly and unashamedly down bad for you, and he is willing to do anything and everything to keep it that way.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to do much, because you, too, love him. A lot.

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A/N I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIMI NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEEDH IM I NEED—

Yeaah i thought comparing him to a panther would be cool 🐈‍⬛

“Guard dog” and just anything to do with a “dog” is an overused trope to me at this point 😐. Dont get me wrong!!!! , it doesnt mean that i dont LIKE the trope!!!! , but my own interpretation of Nikto is a little different, abd i think it suits him better,, Esp bc panthers technically 🤓☝️ do *not* exist, which links to how the definition of his name in Russian is “Nobody” :)

An unconventional animal for a very unconventionally attractive man😽,,

Anyways, it is time for a cigarette 🚬🤏😪. I will return in approximately 56 business days (trust me guys 😋✌️).

Nah because he was shot by 60+ soldiers in the final stand off only to be obliterated by a bomb???? He was proclaimed a hero by his wife Anna to their unborn child????? And then we play as him as if nothing happened without so much as a scratch or a reference to it in the next game like wtf i was so dumbstruck 💀💀💀

It was so awkward seeing her bare breasts on the living room TELEVISION i was DYING 😭

Sure ?? I know ZERO Russian aside from cognates which are the same in Polish (and the ocasional swear word 💀) but why the hell not ?! Maybe i will finally pick up my dad's thick ass Polish translation of the book and read it at long LAST !!!! Would be fun to refresh my memory... its been so long since ive played the games back-to-back 🥲

Honestly kinda odd topic tho but not really??? im impatiently waiting for the summer holidays because i want to learn Russian SO MUCH 😭😭😭🤬🤬😡🤬🤬😡 i wanna attend a Russian club in my dream college to have conversations and actually learn to communicate 😍 and i dont want to be that one foreigner that shows up not knowing hownto say shit and basically embarasses herself in front of people that are probably gonna be intermediate–advanced 😬🥶🥶😬🥶

Nikto HC

speaks English. gets extremely annoyed about people who think he doesn't understand well due to his accent.

in fact he speaks several languages besides Russian and English. As a former FSB agent he has an excellent education in *classified* and speaks *classified*, *classified* as well as *classified* fluently.

is not unusually laconic for his profession. due to his training he got taught to keep communication minimal in the field to avoid accidental slip ups.

After getting caught and tortured Nikto worried about his face not allowing him to fit in back home anymore. That never kept him from keeping in touch with family. He is currently trying to figure out how to not scare his dement Babushka with his cut up face. His solution so far is to send letters.

Has excellent handwriting.

Favourite food is pelmeni. if he gets his hands on a bag of pre-made deep frozen pelmeni he will not count how many of the pelmeni he would like to eat but dumps the whole bag into the pot. He never fails to finish those.

Tried to explain to König what smetana is. Has not succeeded.

Secretly nicknames every tank he ever happens to drive as бакчик / little tank.

Doesn't like dogs. They are too loud and aggressive as his most common encounter with dogs are military or police trained canines and that's his sole point of reference.

Read the Metro 2033 series twice. he enjoys how he can recognise the places in the story from his previous Moscow visits.

sometimes he thinks about quitting the military job he has to retire somewhere in a little village where he could read and fish and generally be at peace. but he doesn't feel like it is his time yet. and he isn't sure if he actually would like to be on his own with all his too loud thoughts. So he stays, stuck in the limbo of waiting from something. Or someone?