Call Of Duty Nikto - Tumblr Posts

Words wouldn't be able to convey how down bad this art made me so I put it into a picture !! 😻😻💞💞💓,, sorry to disgrace ur art like this man 💀💀💀💀💀,,,, i literally dont eben know u and neither do you me im so so SO SORRY 😭😭😭💀... not really tho i have no shame when it comes to Nikto 😋

im sorry he looks weird here, im still adjusting with xp pen.... i haven't used a stylus for so long 🥹

God... I absolutely adore this fanfiction. My words won't do it justice. Please, please, PLEASE read it!!!!!!!!!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 💞💓💞💓💞💜💜💝💜💞💕🛐🛐🛐

OP this BEGINNING??? HELLO??? I knew as soon as I finished the first paragraph that this work would be a masterpiece. 🥹💖

Calling Nikto's alters "demons" which are "neatly packaged inside of a human body" as if it's convenient for something so supposedly monstrous to take human form is AN AMAZING METAPHOR OMG because it suggests that Nikto became possessed — he is a Nobody because his soul was stolen by Zakhaev, and is No-one as the alters wage war amongst themselves. But it's clear that despite the voices which terrorise and haunt him, he has retained some self-awareness and humanity, since he is able to recognise that although his voices are uncontrollable, he's still the one in control, and can resist them. For Reader's sake.

And MAAAN LET ME TELL YOU AAAHEUHDSAAAAAHDJDSAAAASBDHSBSAASAAAADHHDSJAJSJSJDHDHDHDJSJAISNEISNSHSHDHDHDHDIDJDIDJSKAOSKDKD

That's it. That's what I'm telling you. 😊💞

NAH BUT HOLY FUCKING SHIT NOT EVEN ¼ IN AND THIS IS MAGNIFICENT!!! A MASTERPIECE!!! A WORK OF ART!!! A BLESSING TO THE EYES!!! AND IT ONLY KEEPS GETTING BETTER??? 1?1?@??#???😭😭😭💞💞💞💞💞

LIKE, THE PARAGRAPH WHERE READER IS "CHATTING" TO NIKTO AND IT EVENTUALLY CONCLUDES WITH A RUSHED, EMBARRASSED GOODBYE? THE EXTENDED METAPHOR FOR DEMONS AND CERBERUS?? READER'S INITIAL OBLIVIOUSNESS???

And then the abrupt POV change. I was eating Nikto's perspective UP!!!!!

"Wants you for himself, to himself. None of this we."

"None of this sharing. They didn't want to share, so why should he."

"But which Nikto? Which we?"

+ This entire paragraph had me like:

NIKTO GENUINELY UNDERSTANDS THAT HE IS NO GOOD TO READER AND HE DISTANCES HIMSELF FOR THEIR SAKE. IT'S SUCH A CLASSIC TROPE OF "I'M STAYING AWAY TO KEEP YOU SAFE" BUT IT WORKS SO SO SO WELL HERE!!!

AND THE IMPLIED CONTRAST BETWEEN READER AS THIS BEAUTIFUL ANGELIC BEING VS. NIKTO AND HIS DEMONS OMFGFHDHSJDHDDFSJS IM GONMA GO FWRAL 😭😭😭

"Because he wants you. And he's going to have you. And they all agree, and for the first time, everything feels like it's in unison."

I ASCENDED AND WENT TO HEAVEN

Everything about this is just so poetic: Nikto's violence and how both cathartic and euphoric it is; "Ghost becoming a ghost", and becoming the no-one that Nikto had become — with the exception of having no body, which has become mutilated in Nikto's hot white rage; Nikto taking Ghost's mask to wound the TF141 for daring to capture Reader and abuse them in such a way, which is a heinous crime in Nikto's eyes.

"[Nikto] stuffs the cracked skull mask into his pocket, an insult to the rest of the other man's comrades more than keeping a war trophy..." AND IT IS!!! AND THIS ENTIRE SCENE IS HORRIFIC. HORRIFIC. SIMON RILEY HAS SUFFERED, AND GHOST HAS SUFFERED TWICE AS MUCH, UNTIL HE WAS BRUTALLY MURDERED BY NIKTO HERE. I CAN EMPHASISE WITH TF141 BECAUSE THEY WOULD BE DEVASTATED. COMPLETELY DEVASTATED. 😭😭😭💔💔💔

...Yet from Nikto's POV, Ghost's brutal murder is justifiable??? It's horrific, but to Nikto, it's so euphoric, so satisfying, that as the reader, you almost feel that same sick sense of satisfaction to rip and tear Ghost to pieces.

Again, this is horrific. But I LOVE IT. I LOVE YOUR DEPICTION OF IT.

"And when he finally slides home, they slide into you, too. They slam their hips into you greedily, and you welcome it all."

"One and the same. Nikto. A saint, his halo casting crowns around him when the sunlight filters through the crooked blinds, highlighting the crooked nose and smile and the beauty of him all, inside and out. You wish he could go on forever."

"And when he finally slides home" I CAN'T MAN OP THIS IS TOO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

PLEASW THE CYCLICAL STRUCTURE ONLY INSTEAD OF REFERRING TO NIKTO AS POSSESSED BY RELENTLESS DEMONS AND MONSTER HE IS READER'S SAVIOUR AND AN ANGEL AND I JUST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL THIS IS ABSOLUTELY THE PINNACLE OF BEAUTY THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTION BECAUSE IT IS LIKE A BLESSING FROM THE HEAVENS 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐💜💜💜💜💜💓💓💓💓💓💝💝💝💝💝💞💓💞💓💓💓💓💓💓💕💕💞💞💞💞💞💓💞💓💞💓💕💓💕💕💕💓💓💓💓💓💜💕💜💕💝💓💝💕💕💞💕💜💓💜💓💜💕💜💕💞💞💕💝💕💝💕💕💞💕💝💕💝💕💞💞🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

все: Nikto x Female Reader

They want you. Would you want them as much as him?

TW// minors dni, sexual content, violence/combat gore, crass language, Nikto's acute dissociative disorder, female reader being delulu, "female reader gets injured and Nikto snaps" trope, RIP Ghost my dude got killed here

oOo

They say KorTac keeps a live demon in its cage.

Well, multiple demons. Live ones. But they're all packaged neatly inside a physical body that apparently belongs to a human male. Its name, his name, is Nikto.

Nobody. Must just be his callsign, albeit an interesting one, because how can someone be called a nobody, to be okay with being considered a nobody. Your mama's not really keen on you being in some private militia, but you grew up with her putting stickers on your chore chart and telling you that she loved you, that you mattered, to make sure you ate three meals a day and went to bed on time. Daddy helped you move into your dorm, fixed your car, did dad-daughter hangout sessions. You had your friends, your pets. With how fucked up everyone was in KorTac, you're still sure that through all of the psychological messes and broken bones, they still had people, things, that they cared about, and were cared for in turn. Even the unbearable Konig is called Kilgore by Horangi, Zeus is ever the gentleman with everyone, and grumpy Mr. Oz is rubbing off on you.

But the demon seems to be okay with it. A nobody. But also a host to an open maw to hell, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake, with each of its faces chittering in hunger and fascination at their carnage. Many stay away as the default option. Dokkaebi says not to bother him. But your worst and best trait is your unending curiosity, and that childlike need to understand the good in everyone, so maybe that's why you ended up as a medic, and a damned good one at that. Even carried colorful animal bandages and candy to cheer someone up. Cerberus was a three-headed demon, but it was still three cute dogs, at the end of the day, right?

And that's why you do the exact opposite. You jog up to him the times he's spotted on base. Ask him how was dinner? Introduce yourself, blab about why you joined and your favorite ice cream flavors, the weather, and if he had a good day today. Did you know that Phillip Graves can't even microwave leftover pizza and got the hot explosion all over Darnell, and how boring it was sometimes when you weren't aligned to a squad? That you liked his flight suit and his helmet and heywhereareyougoingohuhhaveaniceday!

Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, because you were a sucker for love. A real sucker, a loser, falling for a man who looked at you through the slits of his mask as if you were a bug at the bottom of his shoe. Real smart of you. Couldn't heed any of the warnings about how the horde of demons in the fleshsuit wanted to be left alone, that they conversed with themselves only, and would rip and tear if anyone got too close. Eat away at your soft flesh and your bright eyes and your unnerving habit to smile and wave each time. That you became the hound, as if you wanted to be Cerberus' fourth head. Couldn't go anywhere without making sure you saw him at least once, begging for a glance back. Out here picking at petals like doeshelovemehedoesn'tlovemedoeshelovemehedoesn'tlovemeohhelovesmehelovesmetooforsure!!!; mad delusional just because you keep a notepad decorated with motivational sayings, and Nikto never swatted you away when you trailed behind on his heels.

You're weird; a freak. But you're happy. You hope maybe he he likes you, too, somewhat. Time passes, and he spares you five more minutes to swing your feet around at the latest gossip. Tucks one of your lollipops in his pocket, even. Strides past you into the helo, still, when he's signed to a new deal, but it's a work in progress.

Maybe?

You hope he never finds the framed picture of you smiling and Mr. Friendly photoshopped in next to you.

Hey, a girl can dream.

oOo

They like you.

We want her. We wantherwewanther.

And that was the issue.

Bring her to us. Yes, bring her. Bring her and don't let her out.

They don't want to let you out. And the bigger issue is, he doesn't want to let you out. They want you to themselves, but the Nikto that he considers to be his true self, wants you first. Wants you more. Wants you all to himself, with no crumbs left to spare, like a greedy child hiding his gift in the dirt. All for himself, because since the incident, when the fuck did he have his own mind for himself, haunted by all of him or the fractured bits of him that took on their own compartments in his head. They hunger, just like him, feel pain, fester, kill like him, speak like him, tell him he's diseased but not; some laugh, some cower, some want blood and flesh and bone, and some want to help. They laugh, and he laughs; they don't laugh, he laughs, and when he can't muster a bark, they laugh and scamper around his skull like echoes offering sinister judgement. But all the same, they remain trapped with him in this body, and sometimes, he realizes that it's just him, but when dawn comes, it's back to thousands of souls tearing at him to go hunt.

Killkillkillkillkillwehunger.

She looked lovely today, and you didn't tell her hello, you coward. Don't mess this up.

We need to sleep. We are tired.

Wants you for himself, to himself. None of this we. None of this sharing. They didn't want to share, so why should he. But which Nikto? Which we? Garbled, confused, hungry, fevered; don't ever let you catch him slip a candid picture of you out of his wallet before he goes to kill, to look upon it and let his eyes droop and his body soften. They dance in his mind; they croon at your face and form enclosed in laminate, because he didn't want the photo to ever be marred, as if a single fleck of dirt would render you dirty. The softness of your neatly tucked hair; the uniform did your body no justice, each curve and dip he soldered into his, no, their, memories; the face that invariably was ready to sport a cheeky smile. Different than them. A misfit. Beautiful.

Not like him. Not like them. We. Greedy, selfish, scarred, ugly inside and out. His mind was fractured, but the electricity and the taunting actions of man marring his flesh both didn't detract from his sins before and after.

He wanted you, and that was why he couldn't have you. Couldn't let them have you. Because once he gave in, once he let the floodgates open, to unleash ever single facet upon your form, you'd hate him. Really hate him, so he had to hate you first. Pushed you away starting from that day; no more animal bandages and your sweet candies. No more listening to your voice that he'd spill blood for to hear for a second. No more cheery hellos. The curve of your lips that beckoned him to give it all up, to grab your hand and run off together like some delusional fairy tale his babushka used to read him. Hurt eyes, downtrodden, kicking him in the gut. He ground hard at his teeth, enough to draw blood, at your muted stare that'd cast away from him. It was better this way. Better. But for who? No, it had to be better for you. You had to get away from him.

You had to get away from them.

But things don't work out the way they do. They don't, because he's the stupid one. An utter idiot, because he couldn't see how bleak the sky was with him ignoring you. How your ice cream didn't taste the same, and no amount of faking it was going to diminish how you didn't care anymore and started taking on riskier missions. Just like him, but he deemed that he could handle it, and you weren't the type to intentionally draw blood. But you took the risk, an absolute suicide of a mission, where the 141 was definitely on the prowl to lock down a rogue operation. Where they operated behind a two-faced mask of Western propriety, and there was no true capture-or-kill. Only kill once they captured, after they tortured the mind and body beyond repair to get broken bits of information. And they got their hands on you. Trapped you like a rabbit in a snare, and once he, once they, heard the last of your sharp warning to get the others out of there, selfless as usual, he lost it.

THEYHAVEHERTHEYGOTHERWEMUSTGOWEMUSTGOFASTERWEMUSTGETHER!!!!!

Blood pumping, eyes red, he swiftly dispatches his current missive and hightails it to you. Fool. He promised to ignore you, to treat you as if you never existed, but he just couldn't help but tap into the comm lines for every one of your missions. Couldn't stay away physically, so he soothes himself with your voice. Soothes them. Voice like honey, music to his ears. But they took you. And the music barked out sharp orders to stay away from those coordinates, to run and not come back for you, that you wouldn't talk. He doesn't listen, and he guns it with a stolen helo, to give in to the voices.

Because he wants you. And he's going to have you. And they all agree, and for the first time, everything feels like it's in unison. Tearing through each of the operatives like butter. The harsh bite of bullets shoot his nerves afire, and he grins, an utter madman, as he spills blood everywhere in his wake. Rushing closer and closer. Death, euphoria. And when he bursts in the final door, when he sees you broken and bloody, an arm bent at an odd angle, and your face kissing the concrete floor, he gives in again.

NO ONE MESSES WITH OUR FRIENDS AND OUR LIVES.

The crunch and bite of bone. Eyes just lovely to be gouged out. He bites out chunks of flesh off of the man rendering you near death. and it feels amazing; he feels as if he's rising to sainthood tearing the skull balaclava off of the head, doing the man a favor. Ghost becoming a ghost, taking on his name, a nobody. Ripping and tearing, flesh torn and bloody until he tramples the beating heart until he hears the sick crack of the ribs shooting into flesh. Glorious.

The voices jeer. Moremoremore. But he sees you, eyes wide, unmoving, mouth open, an unfortunate witness to the lengths of his depravity, and he moves. Stuffs the cracked skull mask into his pocket, an insult to the rest of the other man's comrades more than keeping a war trophy, and he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and left a second wake of carnage behind to get you into the helo.

And once he had you. And once you were safe and tucked into one of his safehouses. And once he had you, not doing the right thing in taking you back to base, but keeping you. Away from others. Away, away, away from the rest of the world. Just you and him. Him and you, and the voices. Bits of him that were him. And once he had you, cleaned and bandaged, muttering softly as he set your arm back into place, you had him. You had him, hook, line, and sinker with one look, one call of his name, a hand reaching for him, to not ever leave you. A thank you hushed out from those lips, to come back.

You had better had no regrets. Because he gives in, not to the voices, but to you, his greed, to expose his ugliness. Tears off his mask without a word and slants his lips over yours. And you relish it. Kick off the covers and open the junction of your legs to welcome him in between them. Scars and all, ridges dancing along his face and body, criss-crossing down into the apex of his thighs. He's beautiful, and you preen yourself, as if two hands roughly shoving down your hair will do much, to better whatever presentation you had. He deserves better than this. What a beautiful man, and the scars only highlight the areas that you want to touch the most. Lips worshipping down the expanse of his throat, and you praise him. Hands wander. Up and down, round and around, mimicking the way you grind against him with wild abandon.

NiktoNikto. Oh, Nikto. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouloveyou-

Please let him know. Let them know. And you know about them, accept them in the way they are him, live in him, gnaw at his bones, because they make up the man that lingers after the remnants of your smile. Reveres you in silence, when he thinks that you're not looking. Couldn't throw or use any of the cat bandages or bear to taste the sweetness of the candies. So he hungrily devours the taste of your mouth endlessly, massaging the softness of your breasts, groaning when you paw at the zipper of his suit. Begging. Whispering the things you think of him, would do to him, if you would let him, everywhere in and out of his ears, playing with the broad expanse of his back as he flexes off his clothing. And off with yours quickly. Bodies meshing, touching, tasting, wanting. Devouring your breasts, pressed into the junction of your neck. Kissing down your stomach, and you keen when he latches onto your clit. Opening up your pussy. Your injuries feel like nothing when he decides to feast and feast and feast. Drinking from you as if he was afraid that this would be the last.

And when he finally slides home, they slide into you, too. They slam their hips into you greedily, and you welcome it all. Equally as hungry, as ravenous, embracing him and them in entirety. One and the same. Nikto. A saint, his halo casting crowns around him when the sunlight filters through the crooked blinds, highlighting the crooked nose and smile and the beauty of him all, inside and out. You wish he could go on forever. You wish you could kiss him forever, love him forever, love them over and over until one last stutter of his hips, and you both lose yourselves in each other.

oOo

They say a person in KorTac keeps a demon in her cage.

Oooh taking off nikto's mask thoooo

when you saw nikto's face for the first time, it was on a balmy night. you were deployed to a small section of the middle east, hunting down one of zakhaev's groups. but it'd been so, so long, and even a man such as himself, one burdened by the need for revenge, can only wait for so long.

so, you set up camp for the night.

you traded cigarettes with one another. he had the cheap, crude kind-- the sort that you smoke only to take the edge off. (really, you only liked them because his chapped lips touched each one before he passed them onto you.)

you still remember the look in his eyes. he was magnetic, this character that disturbed you but drew you in with every little quip and brooding look. there was-- is-- something about him that you just can't shake.

the night set in, and after smoking for quite a while, you both got into the tent. it was small. if a strong wind came through, it would've knock it down with the two of you in it. but you weren't nervous, not with nikto around.

he always wore a face-covering, often a mix of fabrics and tactile material. you knew of the campfire tales from your rookie days of what he endured, of how zakhaev tortured him, each story more exaggerated than the last. you don't really know what happened, you just know it was bad enough for him to always hide behind a mask.

like a fool, you asked him about it. and he answered by turning around, presenting the clasp to you, daring you to release him from the measly pieces keeping the mask together.

you did. your fingers hesitated before undoing the clasp, but you did it. he did not flinch-- he wasn't bluffing or trying to prove a point. he just let you do it, and you weren't sure of why. maybe it was because you were alone, or that he liked that your mouth touched his cigarettes, or maybe he just wanted to give you something to write home about.

was he beautiful, or ugly? was he "atrocious" and "blighted by scars?" maybe. maybe not. this character that people formed, that he played into, was not all it was made out to be. he looked just as tired as everybody else, just as sullen. you saw him as andre that night, not just nikto, the man who kills and terrorizes.

YIsssisSSISISSSSSSSss

TITKTO IS MY FAVOURITE THING EVER OMG 🤭🤭💞💞💓

AMAZING!!! 😁😁😁💞💞💞

Practicing perspective, thanks for modeling Nikto.

It’s a bit off, but yeah.

NIKTO IN PASTEL COLOURS OMGHGGFGG 🥺🥺🩷💛🤍🩵🩵🤍💛🩷💞💕💕💖✨✨💛💛

HOW DO YOU DRAW NIKTO SO YUMMY-?!

i try!!! thank you!!!! love your writing too! :3

IT'S NIKTO WITH A KITTY ITS NIKTO WITH A KITTY ITS JIKTO WITH A KITYY ITS NIKT WITH A KITYY ITSNIKTOWITH AKITYY ITS NITKO WITHA KITTY WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭💞💕💕💓💞💓💕💓💞💕

(I'm the cat guys 😼💫✨✨)

First drawing back and its nikto

slowly but… im drawing

Wanted to reblog initially but none of my initial thoughts were in the Bible n now i am homeless after an angry mob burned my flat down for blasphemy soo Amazing Art! 🙌✨✨💖

👋👋👋

YAYYYY IT'S FRIDAYYYY!!!! FUCKING FINALLY THIS WEEK WA SSO LONG FOR ME 😭😭😭😭

Anyways !!!! vvvvv

hate Hate Hate Hate HATE when some art depicts Nikto as this 10/10 Slavic man in terms of his face!!! Like!!! NO!!! THE MAN IS DISFIGURED AS FUCK. HE IS UGLY. FUCKING UGLY. UUUGLYYY. LET'S NOT KID OURSELVES. WE'RE NOT SIMPING FOR SOME HANDSOME HUNK. IT'S THE CHUNKS OF A MAN WE'RE INTO — NOT TO PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER TO "FIX" LIKE SOME JIGSAW PUZZLE, BUT TO APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE PIECE!!! EVERY SINGLE DISFIGUREMENT!!! EVERYTHING!!!!!

Ahem. Got carried awya, 💀

Yes yes yes this this this and this!!!vvvvv:

Man is not loyal to anyone. All he is there for is to carry out orders. Not only does he unintentionally (I assume) dissociate when his alters take over, but he intentionally dissociates from the killing. Orders are orders, and a mission is a mission.

"All I need are targets. Just give me targets."

"Don't think of the enemy as human. They are simply targets."

//I actually didn't know that MP-[] stood for "Military Police — [Call-sign]" and that's SO COOL. NIKTO IS SO MUCH COOLER OMG. MILITARY POLICE???

Yes, it's inhumane. But it's what gets the job done. No point getting attached and letting emotional connections or the morality of your actions weigh you down — and no point in particular to be affected by how inhumane his methods are. He's a military, not a humanitarian, and it's not his fault if you get in his way or don't cooperate and risk jeopardising the mission.

"Watch your mouth. Or I'll cut your tongue out."

"You are a means to an end. Then you're nothing.

"I need you for the mission. Nothing more."

Maybe it's just me projecting but my Slavic family doesn't believe in medication either lol (not lol). Getting dependent on drugs to them is like being alcoholics and/or addicted to cigarettes. Don't rlly have an opinion on their logic, but that point of view is actually accurate for Nikto. Having had to rely on nobody but himself, to be dependent on drugs could lead chip away at the self-control he so skillfully mastered, until he's uncontrollable and all he can do is use drugs to dull and mute the voices.

Nikto laughing at other (enemy) soldiers' deaths is SO REAL!!! Some of of his voicelines were:

"Not today, motherfuckers!"

"Trying to kill me?!/You can't kill me!"

"(Laughs) More!"

Like, he's having the time of his life??? It's THRILLING??? EXHILARATING??? It's like it's a game to him lol,, like, he's having SO much fun! (he's killing people and could die at any moment).

Goes back to your point to his confidence on the field. Amazingly put 👏

I feel like he's borderline psychopathic with hints of sadism, since he doesn't strike me as the type to have a conscience per se, unless the voices quieten down and his alters abandon him.

***Actually, scratch that. As I'm writing I feel like he could be all three. Maybe the alters are psychopathic/sociopathic/sadistic respectively, and it's HE who is burdened with the consequences, the morality, and the emotional baggage. Idk tho this came to me as i was writing 🤷🏼‍♀️

//Genuinely terrifying to imagine him storming up to you and demanding you to tell him why you're looking at him id shit myself no joke 😨 the comparison is SO accurate ive felt that way irl 😰

//Him not understanding jokes 💀 HELP 💀💀💀💀

Love you for these headcanons. They're great. Your contribution was great.

BTW these r canon to me now 💕💕💕💕

(not proof read im so sorry but im in a rush ☹️)

Andre Nikto head canons

We have little information about Niko but here's what I've gathered..

((Also I'd like to kindly add, hi, hello, my name is Mika and I am a Bosnian. The chances of me adding some accurate slav head canons are always high but never low!!🙏🏻 ALSO IM TERRIBLY OBSESSED WITH NIKTO SO IF ENJOY THIS AND YOU WANT DATING NIKTO HEAD CANONS PLEASE LET ME KNOWWW))

Genuine head canons:

Andre Nikto (Никто) is a (scary) Russian military man, roughly 193/194 centimetres (when you compare him to Simon's height) He suffers with acute dissociative disorder (better said DID) yet is still serving the military cause of how he preforms during battle.., so the military still views him as a ideal soldier for combat despite his disorder..

No hate but from what I've seen in some art works claiming it's his "face reveal" you people have to understand that under his mask, his face is disfigured.. so, no he won't be an attractive super model under that mask of his..

I don't think you people are aware how badass Nikto is as a character, almost SIMILAR as Ghost who's in the military for the same reason as everybody else, to risk their life.

Although judging by Nikto's voice lines, he doesn't care who he's killing..if it were up to him, if his teammates serve him zero purpose he'd care less if they die..(after all, you're just a target..) but being a professional, he can't allow that to happen to his teammates

If you look up closely, Nikto wears a military uniform that is different from everyone else with MP-0 written on it. Now if you don't know, MP stands for Military Police (enforcement agencies connected with, or part of, the military of a state.) and zero next to it meaning "nothing" and this is important which is what Nikto refers himself as..

Yeah so about that..

I have a theory about Nikto's nickname

After being captured and brutally tortured with whatever sick tendency mister Z had in store for him. It was Mister Z that couldn't really get much Information about Andre.

They would start torturing him while repeating to Andre that he's nothing, he's no one, what he is is nothing but what he is is everything. Those words play in the back of his head and they never seen to go away.

(This is extremely relevant cause Mister Z tried to get to know a bit of Andre by looking through some research come to find his citizenship and language are censored making him a nobody. Keep in mind, if he found any information about Andre viewing from personal life etc. it will be used as blackmail..)

After recovering his scars and taken to therapy after 7 years he was diagnosed with DID

NOW moving on to the DID part

(What I said about the fact that people overlook Nikto's disorder, I mean it..

Some don't really write about his disorder which is fine but when someone does it gets messy. )

Alters aren't easy to deal with, it's actually gonna haunt you till the day that you die cause there's no cure for it. And in Nikto's case it's from PTSD and Nikto is very aware of his alters..

Let me tell you how Nikto's disorder affects him. Switching can be consensual, forced or triggered, Nikto values silence as much as the next person cause he's dealing with much inside his head already. The kind of guy that would "watch TV" while dissociating with a 100 yard glare with very slow blinking and a slight headache..

There are times where his personalities would correct him when hes referring to himself (example: I'm up..(his personality correctes him) WE'RE up..)

"He made us do this" (and other voice lines I can't recall..)

Maybe cut bits of an apple with a knife and eat it while watching TV..

He has medication prescribed for him but he didn't wanna depend on medications cause they're just drugs..they're nothing to him but just drugs..

He has dissociative amnesia too, sometimes he would wander around confused maybe even annoyed. The amnesia appears to be caused by traumatic or stressful experiences endured or witnessed..Although the forgotten information may be inaccessible to consciousness, it sometimes continues to influence behavior

Like I said he likes quiet people, someone who doesn't waste their air on small talk..

Example; don't really talk to him about the weather, unless you have something interesting to say but if the conversation is gonna go nowhere , don't talk..he finds that a waste of time

People assume just because he's Russian that he likes vodka, he doesn't like vodka...-He doesn't like any alcoholic beverage cause it makes his problems a lot worse,...maybe If you were lending him some as an offering, he'll take it but he has SOME self control, he's okay with coffee, though..

It's relevant cause he stays awake at late hours since he finds it difficult to sleep, he'll stay up late with no music, nothing, just a silent room. It doesn't matter if he tries the military tactic where you just close your eyes and turn off your thoughts, it's very different when you have voices screaming inside your head...

Despite everything he's still intelligent, so being smart + strength + sharp reflexes and you got yourself a criminal

Death doesn't phase him, but to him death is like sleeping, he's not scared of death considering that he's been through hell those past few months.

He likes the simple things, don't complicate anything..because he's quick with catching an attitude..be blunt and forward and stumble over your words..

Nikto shows confidence in the battlefield,just like König, except he has a high rush of adrenaline and will laugh at the enemies death.

Fun fact: in this one comic Price calls Nikto "psycho"

And it's without a doubt that he is one.., a sadistic, sociopathic, psychopath

After splitting, his alters can and will get more aggressive and do more harm and damage to others cause they're doing the most at protecting the host.. (depending on the alter, some wanna protect him while some wanna hurt him)

Oh by the way about the intelligence part, I mean he has a good good memory with remembering faces..

He doesn't like people looking at him funny, he'll get angry really fast and annoyed at the same time.., he won't show hesitation when it comes to approaching you and asking you what are you looking at (it's like trying to avoid eye contact with a homeless man Infront of a store, that's how scared you would be)

He's slow with jokes or any form of humor that you throw at him??? You'll be excited to tell him a joke, and when you do he just looks at you and tells you never to do that again..,or just straight up tell you he doesn't get it...??? and probably trying to explain it either he gets it or not he'll still tell you that it's not funny

He doesn't argue, or he does? Arguing with him will costs you avoiding getting objects thrown at you so you can get out of his sight..tragic, now you have a teammate that hates your guts and won't apologize for it.

UghghhhhGgHH

His body is so handsome in your style

Oh my God

His body type is giving big grizzly bear 🐻

The chest hair??? The poses??? His hands??? The way the clothes were drawn and how they hug his bod??? The mask??? Oh my godohmtgodOh myGod and the biceps holy fucking SHIT THE MUSCLES ASSHHHRHHHJJJFJK IDEAL MAN OVER THERE!!!!! SEXY SEXY MAN LOOK AT HIM GO OMGFDJJ 😳🫣🫣

Bear

STOP BC HES GIVING ME THIS:

INTIMIDATING ASS MAN IN THE FRILLIEST, PRETTIEST PINK DRESS EVER

(never read a batman comic n never will but TELL me this is NOT iconic???)

OP I LOVE YOU FOR THIS 💞💞💞💞💞

he's my little meow meow :3

YESSS SSSIR!!!!! 😊😊🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️💋❤️💋💋❤️

👀 Sir?

Omfg

I love this so fucking much oh my Fucking GOD

LITERALLY THEIR DYNAMIC!!!!!!!!!

LOVE THIS SO FUCJING MUCH AAAHAHDHJFJGJGKKKKJJFJnqn @!1!!!!!#

Go get him Krueger!!! No one else wants him!!! You have no competition!!! We're rooting for you, even!!!!!

Ah, yes. Krueger is a professional when it comes to dating those physically repulsive sexy Russian men! You can trust his approach

Words can't describe how much I love this.

Honestly, you🩵 and @lizzy019💞 are two of the most talented Nikto writers, and it's reached a point where words aren't enough anymore to convey my adoration for your works. Every post — fanfic, drabble, headcanon and otherwise, no matter how short — is so well done and totally accurate to what I would imagine Nikto to be like that there's genuinely nothing else I can add without regurgitating the same statements.

Your characterization of Nikto as a whole is wonderful. His speech? Behaviour? Gestures? How his actions speak louder than words, and convey through them what sentences never could? How I as a reader feel wanted, despite it being a short scenario, and how I don't have it in me to refuse him, either, since it's nice to be wanted like that, is just... 🥹

Anyways. Only going to be reblogging w/o tags or comments. But just know that your work has been so wonderfully written that words couldn't convey how much I enjoyed it.

Nikto who just doesn't let you leave his home after a one night stand.

You had a general idea of how one night stands went; you get in, you fuck, you get out. It wasn't really something you did often but when your neighbor who, in all honesty, has had your interest for a while asks... It was hard to keep your mouth from saying 'hell fucking yes'. Prior to this your interactions consisted of little more than pleaantries but you knew, from other neighbor's accounts, that he was more talkative with you than anyone else. And now you knew why.

Your neighbor did not disappoint. Nikto fucked the senses right out of your skull. Your clothes crumpled and discarded along with your inhibitions. You'd be feeling him for days; between your legs, in your mouth, in every bruise left on your skin and random twitch in your thigh. It was one hell of a good time but you knew how these things ended. Knew that once the breathing died down and the adrenaline left your senses it was time to put your clothes back on and skedaddle.

However Nikto finds every excuse for you to stay;

You shift to leave the bed but his arm casually wraps around you, pulling you back against him. You look back at him confused but his eyes are already closed and he only says one word. "Sleep."

The next morning you go to put on your clothes only to find they're nowhere in the room. Instead one of his shirts was left on the side of the bed you slept on. You tug it on and when you find him, he's doing laundry. "Hospitality. I clean them for you." He grunts. And so you end up chatting with him in the laundry room, helping out by seperating the clothes.

When that's all done you make one last trip to his room to double check you've left nothing behind. You announce your departure but Nikto stops you from in the kitchen, declaring he's already made breakfast for two. "Don't waste food." He says putting a plate in your hands. To his credit; it was a good hearty breakfast.

Another attempt to leave? He's rented a movie you mentioned, it has to be watched within 24 hours. "You wanted to see this, da. Come, we watch now?"

And another? "You've been wanting to learn how to bake, da? Let me teach you this recipe."

Another one? You can't leave without letting him show you one of his collections

Another? How about another movie?

And the final attempt? "It's too late to be out, better to just spend the night here." He says as if your home wasn't a hop, skip and a jump away from his.

You caught on, of course, but you don't really mind. It's been a while since you've felt wanted and the flattery had you beaming inside. You probably should be alarmed but he hasn't used any force, no intimidation, just a socially inept man trying to convince his pretty little neighbor to move in in the most roundabout way possible.

wait a minute. pookie. how do we think nikto would react to reader asking him to clasp her bra...

Omg!!! Never in my life did I type out ideas so FAST!!! 🏃🏼‍♀️💨

Fem! Reader Asking Nikto To Clasp Her Bra

Word Count: 1719

Implies friends to lovers with Nikto. Atrociously down bad Nikto for Reader <3. Themes not dissimilar to this fanfiction (only less intense lol 💀).

Reader is addressed as "You". No Y/N used.

*Russian Speakers, please forgive me for any linguistic inaccuracies. This is the first time I tried to write in Russian without relying on Google Translate 🥲... If there's any errors, please let me know! 🙏

❗SUGGESTIVE CONTENT BELOW THE CUT! ❗ (No sex, but allusions to it). Readers are warned for suggestive content. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

…Did you say what he thinks you've said, or was that the voices?

Did he imagine it? Was it a hallucination, maybe? Perhaps he's just a maladaptive daydreamer, and he hasn't realised…

His thoughts — or the words spoken by the voices, he's not sure — whisper in an uncharacteristically gentle tone:

Ммм... красотка. А... така красивая... рядом со мной...

They whisper to him about you. To him, for you. And to you. But those words don't leave his scarred lips, his throat hoarse and vocal cords damaged

Treasure. So beautiful. And with me, with me...

No. Not with you. He could never be with you. All he can do is content himself

“—Nikto?" You asked gently, eyebrows furrowed over your eyes, instantly dragging him from his trance. "Are you... okay? Did you hear me?"

Ah. There's that angelic little voice. How divine...

Wait. So it wasn't a hallucination? He didn't imagine you asking him to clasp your bra? Unless he heard incorrectly? Surely he heard incorrectly.

Staring at you with a blank expression under the mask, his response was less like a question, and more like a statement, if anything:

"You... want me to clasp your bra. Yes?"

"...Yes, please," you said, a sheepish, lopsided smile on your face, as you bashfully looked off to the side. "It, er... it came undone as we were cuddling. And uh... well. You know. I tried to be subtle and do it myself, but... it didn't really go that well, did it? So... put me out of my misery, please."

You were so very… casual. True, you were embarrassed, but you didn't display disgust at the prospect of being touched; rather, you were... expectant, as if it's what you wanted, and it made Nikto's heart soar at the possibility that his feelings could be reciprocated.

But he wasn't going to delude himself more than he was already.

You brought this up so offhandedly, as if this was some passing topic of conversation or an ordinary occurrence, and a normal favour to ask of someone. Someone normal. Who was be to be a fucking pervert?

When that fact registered, Nikto probably: a.) clenched his fists so tight that the remaining nails on his fingers pierce his skin and draw blood — all in a desperate attempt to see if this was indeed reality, and not a hallucination; b.), short-circuited and got into an intense unintentional staring competition with you, eyes vaguely red and unblinking for minutes, disbelieving, still and not moving as much as an inch; and/or c.), popped the hardest boner in his life that he almost lost consciousness, fainted, and fell from the bed to floor.

"I... why?"

A laugh almost escaped your throat — almost — but you swallowed it in time, realising that to laugh could have been making a mockery of Nikto.

"Ah... these clasps are so fiddly, you know? And... well..."

Awkwardly laughing, you explained: "...I couldn't reach. Not without drawing attention to myself, anyways. But it's really uncomfortable having to hold your bra while you try to be discreet when you clasp it, you know? And..."

Obviously, Nikto was not someone normal. Isn't.

This was extraordinary. A gift. Oh, what a blessing this was!

To look at you and bask in your presence is salvation in it of itself.

To be close to you, within arms' reach, his strength and size ensuring that in his wildest fantasies you'd be beneath him, with no chance of escaping, and in a position where all you can do is accept what he forces upon you.

Of course, he would never do that. The voices seduce him, urge him, order him to, but he doesn't listen. He won't touch you without permission, or without explicit consent.

Simply living has become worthwhile, as he can breathe the same air that left your precious lips. The pain, the agony, the aching, and the inexplicable grief, the, sorrow, the woe, the burden, and the mortal suffering — all meaningless and trivial if it means that you are with him.

So to touch you? And so intimately? Oh… боже…

Not only does it demonstrate that, despite the grotesque monster that he's been transformed into, the prospect of his hands on your body doesn't repulse you, but it proves how you trust him. You trust Nikto enough to touch you. To be vulnerable with him.

You consider him trustworthy enough to feel your bare back, and to trace his rough, callous, quivering fingertips over the delicate lace of your bra. You have decided that he's worthy of such a privilege.

Still, he wavered in his uncertainty. He'd rather be certain, than ruin things with you. His everything.

"...You are sure?"

Eyes crinkling in a small yet kind smile, you assured him, that: "Yes. I am sure. Please, just do it for me. I'd rather you do it."

He did not want to fuck this up. No fucking way. Ни хуя сибет.

You're friends. Good friends. As a matter of fact, you were his only friend.

But he was so fucking hard that he was almost nauseous — and that was before he has even touched you.

From his hazy recollection of his past and his continuing life which he occasionally unintentionally dissociated from, he can't ever recall being so turned on — half the time, his dick doesn't even function the way it should do.

But for you? You needn't ask; the effect which you have on him is evident. Simply through existing, you're his personal aphrodisiac.

A snort escaped Nikto’s broken, deformed nose at the sight of you shyly holding up your shirt tightly over your chest with one hand, and steadying your bra in the other — if it was up to him, he'd have hurled the offensive piece of clothing into some obscure corner of the room, and stripped you both naked, uncaring of his scars or of how his body looked, just to have you once, once.

But it was not up to him. And he wouldn't do something that rash. He wasn't about to scare you off when you were good... friends. Friends. Yes.

His fingertips touched the junction of your spine, tracing the subtle bumps of the vertebrae. His touch was so delicate, so tentative, that you could have almost mistaken it for a gust of wind.

You shivered involuntarily, goosebumps forming on your arms, and Nikto's breath hitches when you flinch slightly, your back arching a little.

“Блать… душа моя…”

He's trying to be good, trying not to cross any boundaries. You've already been so charitable, so selfless, to offer him this. If he wastes this, or ruins things between you two by making you uncomfortable to the point you won't be on speaking terms, he would rather kill himself.

Gently, with shaky, shaking fingers, he reaches for the clasp of your bra, which is lose, and attempts to clasp it for you.

His big, callous hands weren't made for handling such small, delicate things.

He's breathing heavily, his mask doing nothing to muffle the desperate puffs of air, his throat constricting and going dry. Your hair stands on the nape of your neck, and you shiver again — only, it's not from the cold.

He's gritting his teeth, pissed off by how fiddly this is, but he wouldn't ever voice this out loud — any intimacy and touch is better than none at all.

By some miracle, he does it. And he thought that was that.

To quell his temptations, he gently pulled the hem of your shirt down, fixing the material and making sure the midriff was exposed, and respectfully averted his gaze so you could fix your bra, denying himself the sight he'd cherish until he was blind and engrave the image in his brain.

That was that, he thought. It wasn't really what he thought, of course, since he silently hoped, yearned for more, but he would be thankful for any scraps of affection that he was allowed to give you.

Except...

"...You can touch me, you know," you murmured, averting your gaze as your cheeks heated up. “That… was the whole point.”

Suddenly, he couldn't speak English.

Or Russian.

Or articulate himself in any way, shape or form.

He's struck dumb. Dumbstruck. Dumbfounded. Bewildered.

Really? Really? You had wanted him to do it?

Before he had the time to process your declaration, your smaller hands took his and guided them onto your chest — not over your shirt, but under — letting him cop a feel of the skin he so desired to.

No... not letting him. Encouraging him. With a smile so impossibly sweet and effortlessly sexy at the same time that he had to bite his bottom lip until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

He needed you so bad. So, so bad.

Both large bear-like paws clutching at your chest, he held your covered breasts as if they were the most precious objects in the world.

His. Eго.

Нет... не его...

Not his. Not ever. You were only taking pity on him, aware of how deprived he's been of physical intimacy, the boner always prominent when you're close. He's pathetic.

A silence enveloped you both, but it surprisingly wasn't an awkward one; rather, a pleasant, calming, and comfortable one.

Nikto's hands wandered absentmindedly across your torso, stroking your skin, gently groping the soft parts of you.

You moaned in content, closing your eyes as he massaged your flesh as if he's never seen women's boobs or a woman's cleavage before.

He had, in another life, but never yours. So this is different. Special.

His pupils were blown black with love, eyelids hooded with adoration and complete focus. Only you. And only you. Только ты.

He wouldn't... he told himself he wouldn't... he shouldn't go further... he couldn't do this to you. To himself.

What if he ruined your friendship? If he was without you and alone again, he would really kill himself after all.

He shouldn't...

He mustn't...

Really. Really. He ought to stop now before he loses himself.

Your eyes open, and you bless him with the privilege of watching you undress, the shirt slipping over your head and revealing your body to his starved, starving gaze.

It's too much...

…

…

…

...The bra came off not long after, along with all of your and Nikto's clothes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

I'm taking this and assuming it means that he's relaxed enough to snore because he knows you won't hurt him, and especially if he's sleeping during the day, he knows you've got his back. He wouldn't admit it but maybe he subconsciously knows that his lover is just as protective of him as he is of them. He knows they'd never let anyone hurt him, so his body finally leaves fight or flight mode when resting next to them

Idk if I'm just reading too much into that but it's what I'm taking from it. Nikto trusts his lover so so much

I'm rambling now but imagine his lover got accused of being a rat and there was sizable evidence against them and he just doesn't believe it. He just goes "no" and helps his lover hide because he's not an idiot, he knows they'll be tortured for information they don't have if they stay, and if they got tortured, he'd have to kill everyone involved and then punish himself for, in his eyes, allowing it to happen.

Meanwhile he works to find out who the actual traitor is, and when he finds out they intentionally framed his lover?

Not good things

🪼

YES, 🪼 ANON!!! YOU GET IT!!! 🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️

Because being on high alert is exhausting. Being hyperaware of every noise — inside and outside —, every gust of wind, every breath, rise and fall in temperature, every movement... it's exhausting.

Personally, I headcanon Nikto to be a light sleeper when he's on active duty — so light that rarely truly sleeps* (or, better put: it's rare for him to get any sleep. Sleep deprivation could be the cause of those permanently red eyes of his?), as he can still recognise the sounds around him and is ready to engage with any enemy planning to stab him in his "sleep".

Before Zakhaev, he was cautious. After Zakhaev, he's paranoid.

Any noise could signal an enemy's stealthy approach: a creak in the floorboard? a passing car? footsteps echoing along the wrong? voices whispering in the night? a tusle of his bedsheets, easily to be mistaken for rustle of someone's combat gear as they adjust their pistol to aim it at his forehead? Man gets no sleep... ☹️

That's why he's eerily silent — because a.) he has to be aware of any and all dangers and b.) if he can neither be seen nor heard, no enemy can capture him, can they?

*LITERALLY as I was writing this (little by little since you sent the ask in), this headcanon showed up on my feed, and Nikto stating this is SO fitting: "We do not sleep, we only fall into darkness until the sun brings us back". PLS ITS LITERSLLT HIM? +++?? +++? @??

However, I imagine him as a deep sleeper at heart, and when he has finally no rational reasons to be paranoid, he can relax. Somewhat.

He's still as stiff as a board: lays flat on his back, arms by his sides, legs straight, and all that; however, it's with his partner only when he can actually relax, as 1.) with them laying on his chest/by his side, they are safe, they aren't in any danger, they are okay 2.), their presence brings him solace and peace like no other 3.), he isn't alone anymore, he doesn't have to protect himself and focus on his survival, since he can now just... live, as opposed to survive,

and 4.), because (like you said! 🤭❤️), his partner would be just as protective of him as they are of them. <3

To ease his stress and alleviate the paranoia at least a little, they vow to care for him and take care of him, and to demonstrate through small but meaningful acts that he doesn't have to be fiercly independent and self-reliant, but can depend on and trust his partner, too. 🥹

Maybe the relationship that he has with his partner has no one person depending on the other, but a codependent one — Nikto can provide safety, security, shelter, and protection in a physical sense, while his partner can provide all of those aforementioned in the emotional sense (but physical probably too because I would scratch whoever the FUCK had the balls to pick on my man??????,, HISSING and SCREECHING and CLAWING like a fucking cat!!!!!! 😠😠😾😾😠😾

//Also bro you can't apologise for rambling then give the BEST writing prompt EVER??? KISS KISS MUAHM MUAHHH 💋💋,, NEED TO WRITE A DRABBLE FOR THIS!!! 🤭🤭

pls bear w me tho... 😞,, hope u don't mind that im a slow writer 🥲

Imagine Nikto's crush accidentally calls him by some cutesy nickname while they're at a military base but no one expects the following

Y/N: Nikto, dear, could you help me get that down? It's a bit heavy and I-

At this point, everyone who heard it is frozen, they remember what happened to the guy who called Nikto by something other than his call sign, and now they've gone and called him dear

Nikto: Stop yammering, I'll help.

Y/N: Oh, thank you hon

They did it again, arguably worse this time

Once the time is down, Nikto took it down by himself, of course, he just leans into their ear and says something

And they just smile and whisper something back with a small nod

They thought Nikto would at the very least threaten them but no

Nikto: Don't call me that again in public

Y/N: Oh, okay 🩷 sorry about that

THIS IS SO CUTE 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹💖💖✨✨✨💞💞💖💞💞💖💖✨

GUYS PLS RESD THIS^^^^^,, ANON IS DOING GOD'S WORK RIGHT HERE PLSOSLSLS THIS IS SO SO SO SWEET 😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓

A quick sketch.....(⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

Biting at the bars of my enclosure

Nikto picking you up 24/7 when he's comfy in the relationship type shit.

It would be annoying if not for the soft look in his eyes. Like a boy with a doll. He holds you like one too.

A hand under your ass and one behind your back.

He holds you like something to be shown off. To be seen in place of him.

"You look like a doll, that's why lyubov' moya."

He never sets you down unless you want it. Sure maybe you're getting a bit chubby from the lack of movement but maybe that was his goal. He seems to like it.

"Its good fat, store for winter."

And even when winter's over he doesn't stop.

You don't even need to walk around in your house, just let him carry you doll.

Writing for Nikto

I'm thinking about writing a sweet headcanon for him, idk his characteristic very well but got this cute idea.