Cod Hcs - Tumblr Posts
would 100% love to hear some nsfw hc’s about keegan on account of me being absolutely feral for him 🫣🫣 im gonna lose my mind grggrgrgrrgrg
omg i was hoping that someone would come back and ask for my nsfw keegan hcs!! he's just so 🖤🖤🖤 keegan lives in my brain 24/7
if you want to hear hcs about keegan or pretty much any other cod character, feel free to submit ideas here!!
mdni // nsfw below the cut
cw // fem anatomy and terms used. brief mentions of slight degradation, spit kink, toy usage, edging, and orgasm denial.
Okay let me start out by saying this man has a HIGH sex drive, like wayyy higher than what's average. Of course, Keegan would never pressure you into doing anything with him if you can't keep up or you need a break. But if you match his drive then you're in for it. Prepare to be fucked in his bedroom, on his couch, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, in his car, and up against every wall and
In terms of what Keegan’s working with below the belt, his cock is average length (around 6 inches when hard), but he’s THICK as hell. His girth is about the same as his length. He knows he’s thick so Keegan takes plenty of time to finger you, eat you out, and get you soaked so your hole can more easily stretch around him <3
Keegan loves getting oral from you. To him, you look the prettiest with his fat cock in between your pretty lips. Particularly enjoys throatfucking you until you’re drooling around his dick and the spit leaks down your chin and neck. Always finishes in your mouth when you go down on him. “Open your mouth, slut,” he commands so he can see his cum pool on your tongue. On top of that, he spits in your mouth before growling out “be a good girl and swallow for me”.
He absolutely has a spit kink. He’s just nasty like that <3
When Keegan eats you out, he gets SO messy. He spits on your pussy to get you extra wet. While he goes down on you, he practically drools all over your cunt. Keegan loves when he can see a mixture of your wetness and his spit dripping down and onto the sheets.
OMFG the hill that I will die on is that this man is MESSY with his cum. Keegan’s favorite place to finish is inside of you so he can dive between your legs and watch it drip out of your pussy. If you ask him to pull out, he still enjoys cumming all over your tits, ass, face, any part of your body really. He just has a thing for seeing the milky-white fluid on your skin.
Keegan is an ass, hips, and thighs man all the way. He adores every single inch of your body, but in his opinion your lower-half is the best. Good luck keeping his hands off your ass when you two are in private. His favorite position is doggy so he can watch the way your ass giggles as he fucks you.
Keegan doesn’t own toys, but he’d be willing to use them on you if you asked. Afterall, the vibrator’s just going to enhance your pleasure right? What Keegan doesn’t expect is becoming obsessed with using a vibrator on you. Loves to hold it right on your clit until you’re grabbing at the sheets and whining that you’re about to cum before he pulls it away. He’s so mean. Likes to edge and tease you for a while before finally allowing you to finish.
When he’s away from you (on a mission or otherwise) and has some alone time, Keegan thinks about you while fucking his hand. Your pretty face, your gorgeous body, those desperate sounds you make when you’re on the edge of your orgasm. God the things you do to his mind even when you’re miles away from him….
He’ll never ask you for it because Keegan would hate to make you uncomfortable, but he would love to take some nude photos/ videos of you so he can look at them while he’s deployed. Keegan specifically fantasizes about filming you sucking his cock so he can look into your pleading eyes while stroking his cock.
Before he leaves for a mission, sex with him is intimate and romantic. Keegan lays you on your back, gazes into your eyes, and whispers to you while he thrusts into you. “God babygirl, you’re so gorgeous. My sweet little thing. Love you, love you so much.”
But when Keegan gets back from a mission? You’re in for it! The second he lays eyes on you, you’re bent over the nearest surface so he can rail you as hard as possible, leaving bruises and marks on your skin to remind you of who you belong to.
Keegan always asks how you’re feeling after a session, even if it was vanilla, to make sure you’re feeling okay. Asks you questions like “Hey, how ya doing, babygirl? You need something? Water? Snack? As shower?” He’s so willing to do whatever you want after sex to make you feel comfortable. Definitely joins you if you choose to shower afterwards <3
I said it already in my SFW hcs, but one of Keegan’s main love languages is physical touch. He gets so so so clingy and cuddly after sex. He absolutely adores holding you close, kissing you, petting your hair, and using his fingers to lightly trace over your features. He does whatever he can to feel your skin against his.
If you two fuck before bed, he stays awake until you’re sound asleep. Just likes to bask in the sight of your pretty face, especially after you let him do such nasty, depraved things to your body. When he’s finally ready to succumb to his own tiredness, he wraps his strong arms around you from behind and buries his face in the back of your neck so he can inhale your scent all night.
Phillip Graves Headcanons
Starting with the obvious - this man is southern as hell - probably owns at least three pairs of cowboy boots and 6 different hats.
Grew up working on his wealthy daddy's farm and stables.
His family still own the farm, the stable - the town they're in relies largely on the family.
So naturally Graves was born hardworking but he was entitled as fuck. Duh.
He loves the heat. Hates the rain. Adores horses and owns two of his own.
Will forever say no one can ever beat his mama's cooking.
Because he is 100000% a mummas boy.
Probably got away with all sorts of shit as a kid and teen just because his mama would be squished his cheeks and said 'not my precious boy!'
Thinks America is the best place on earth and will slander anywhere else - "Can't nothing beat America, greatest country in the world!"
I'm sorry but this man would probably support trump lol say what you want but he is more right wing leaning - we know he's a dick.
Expects a stay at home wife who raises his five kids and cooks him meals from his mammas recipe book.
When he's at home he drives an obnoxious pickup truck with america stickers on the back.
Will settle down with a bottle of southern comfort every night and probably watch old gameshows.
No interest in sports what so ever unless his kids do any.
Definitely that dad to do whatever he can to make his kids get ahead. This wouldn't exclude threatening other parents or cheating.
"Anything for my little rascals."
Has a stag head on the wall. Loves hunting. Takes his kids and teaches them. Fishing, too.
Invites all his shadows round on 4th July for a big ass barbecue.
Possesive and jealous as fuck! Don't even breathe in another direction or this man is grabbing your face and staring you down as he reminds you quietly you are his.
Will happily dispose of a body if they look at you wrong.
If you have an attitude? Whew! Battle of wills - constant fucking fighting but he kinda likes it secretly.
Wants you to sass him so he can put you over his knee and get the ropes and paddle out.
Slightly sadistic in bed. Just a smidge.
Country music! Nothing else. Hates the modern stuff. If it isn't 80's/90's country then he is turning it right off.
Part of the neighbourhood watch and shit.
Look this man is a wanker lol but that's why we like him! And he'll charm the shit out of you even if you hate him!
Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^
TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid
Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3
Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.
Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!
Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)
Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König
(I will add the links as I post each part!)
John Price
-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often
-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.
~~
John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.
By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.
You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.
You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”
You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”
You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.
He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.
“Love, what’s wrong?”
You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.
He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”
“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”
Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”
You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.
You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”
You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."
He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”
"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.
He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.
“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”
He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”
He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”
You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”
~~~~
The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”
He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”
"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.
~
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.
~~~~
Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.
He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.
Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.
This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.
He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.
When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.
He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”
You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.
You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”
You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"
"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.
The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.
You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”
You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.
When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”
The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.
He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.
~~~
After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.
You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.
The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.
You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.
You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.
He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.
You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.
It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.
It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.
Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.
You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”
He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”
You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’
You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.
“Si, baby?” you whisper.
His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’
You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”
His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."
"Love," he says with a gentle frown.
"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”
He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”
Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"
He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”
You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”
He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”
Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”
You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.
“I love you so much too, Si.”
He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”
You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”
Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”
He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.
You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.
Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3
Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡
Nikolai and price with a ftm!reader who is taller hcs tyy
a/n: sure!! I listened to country while writing this because I got bored :’/
Nikolai:
-surprised when he met you at a club and you just stood up and ended up being a good 5 inches taller then him
-absolutely abuses the privilege. If he can’t reach something while working? Might as well have you do it instead of him
-brags about having a boyfriend a surprising amount for someone who is actively an illegal arms trader among other things
-loves stealing your hoodies because their just the perfect size on him to be warm and comfy for around the house
Price:
-since he’s around ghost all the time he’s not completely odded out by it! If anything he thinks it makes you look more masc
-makes taking photos with you just a tiny bit harder when you two are out doing something in public, although the only reason he takes photos to begin with is to show off his boyfriend sooo
-loves to tease you about it and make all the corny tall jokes, but he’s never trying to be mean. He just thinks it’s silly
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 😋✌️).
I'm undecided as to whether or not Nikto would ever show his lover (you) his face willingly — and if so, how he would go about it... 😟❤️🩹
I'm torn between him putting it off as long as he can put it off for, so paranoid by the prospect that the sight of his mangled face will repulse you, that it becomes a phobia that his traumatised mind justifies.
Nikto valued you over anything, and should the sight of his face — irreversibly disfigured and ugly — look utterly repulsive and nauseating to you, it would devastate him.
So, with that said, perhaps Nikto would wear the mask always, parting with it never, ever, and refuse to be seen without the reinforced plastic mask strapped tight to his thick skill — with a black balaclava beneath just for safe measure. Only when you'd be soundly asleep would he brush his teeth and wash his face, cursing silently in Russian at the hideous face that stared back at him in the mirror. A stranger who he couldn't recognise.
I doubt he'd be able to raise this with you, and I headcanon that you would feel sheepish to ask. At this rate, he would never, ever take off the mask, for as long as he could help it. And any glimpse of his profile would have been on accident, and a secret that you'd keep to yourself. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never sneak a peek behind the rare door left ajar, closing it quietly for Nikto before he realised his mishap.
Or, Nikto, considered the nobody, no one worthy of your love, thinks that if his stoic personality and traumatised self haven't done enough to drive you away from him, surely the fact that he is an ugly brute ought to do so? Surely you'd come to terms with how he doesn't deserve you, and that you deserve better? Deserve better than a shell of the man that he once was?
Because you were too good to be true. There was no reality in which a sweet little one like you would love this repugnant, disfigured face, even if his dick — miraculously in one piece — satisfied you and the scarred tissue after chemical burns and scars on his body alone weren't a sore sight to begin with. He didn't deserve someone so lovely, so loving, the epitome of beauty. The complete contrast of him.
So, thinking, “Fuck it”, having convinced himself that you'll inevitably leave when you see the face he keeps hidden from view anyways, he rationalises his impulsive action as not prolonging the inevitable. As not getting his hopes up and letting himself be disappointed later when he won't be able to imagine his life without you.
Maybe Nikto would impulsively discard the mask on the ceramic sink after a shower, and exit the bathroom nonchalantly, his expression emotionless and unreadable to conceal the inner turmoil and hurricane of emotions like a whirlwind in his mind, silently awaiting your approval. Maybe Nikto would surprise you by having you in his arms after a long deployment, and catch you off-guard by his face, laid bare for you to see and criticise. Maybe Nikto would ask you to help him paint his eyes with black warpaint, pretending to need help, when in reality it was simply an excuse and a test. To see if his face would shock you.
In any case, whatever the case, Nikto would feign indifference, appearing uncaring, when he was internally in turmoil, a violent storm of emotions like a whirlwind in his mind.
Were you repulsed? Did the scar tissue from chemical burns on one side of his face disgust you? Did that lifted lip — cut when he was tortured — resembling an animal’s snarl make you visibly cringe? Was the hooked nose that had been broken so many times that it was permanently off-center and deformed, the root of his snoring and inability to breathe, make you grimace? What about his crooked teeth? His thin, cracked lips? Those stained, out-of-shape teeth really that bad to look at? The bald patches of closely-cropped, prematurely grey hair on his scalp that would never regrow a full head of hair? The sunken cheeks? The hollow eyes? The slight concave to his jawline?
He noticed the initial wince, the reaction that came instinctively, which hurt regardless, even after having had braced himself for that grimace.
Bozhe. Stop looking at him with sympathy with those earnest eyes. Don't pity him. Don't pity him. Don't pity him.
Yet, when your eyes wouldn't linger on any specific aspect of his face, and you would offer him a smile that reached your eyes, the stormclouds would calm, and the intrusive thoughts slowly dissipate.
TL:DR, either Nikto will never show his face to his lover, or will do so impulsively.
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A/N
Couldn't sleep, so I decided to brainstorm Nikto drabbles 😍😍❣️❣️❣️
My neighbour wouldn't stfu. GOD I hate my street!!!!! 😡😡😡👊👊✊👊👊✊💥💥💥💥💥🥊🥊🥊🥊 (and Linda!!!!!! )
The description of Nikto's face is a compilation of my own headcanons. 🥹 (I want to kiss him SO BAD 😣💔💔💔)
This was going to go in another direction, but I have another Nikto work coming after I realised that I could write a separate ficlet 🤭✨✨
"You drive me crazy."
Obsessed! Nikto x Reader
Word count: 2472
Nikto's POV! Sporadic uses of "Y/N" — otherwise, reader is referred as "You".
To say that Nikto is obsessed with you would be an understatement 😵💫...
Nikto's psychological state gradually deteriorates as you read!
Google Translate Russian lmao 💀,, please forgive any errors! 😟
Edit: Realising that this fic is darker than my usual works. Warning my readers for darker content!
Edit 2: Added the appropriate "dark content" tags. <3
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I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?
I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.
I've lost my mind long ago. We're losing it as we speak. I've lost myself long ago and I have not known what to do with ourselves.
Of course, not all was lost. I was cleared for service. I can approach situations without hesitation or uncertainty — but most importantly, kill methodically.
All I need are targets. Just give me targets. Nothing else matters. Nobody.
But I found you. I found you. And you found us. Although there was nothing to find, you found us.
How? It's a mystery. An enigma. An unsolvable puzzle.
My name is Igor. Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich.
Игорь. Igor. I—gor. Two syllables. Four letters, in English. A not so common name in Russia, according to the statistics: in 1991 — the year of my birth — approximately 37 baby boys born were named as such. In 2021, only 17 baby boys born were named Igor. I would assume the number declines each year — maybe less than a dozen Igors were christened this year. Or a single digit. Nine. Eight. Seven. Or even less than five.
October 13, 1991 was my exact date of birth. I was born in Novgorod, when Russia was still the Soviet Union. I had parents. A sister…
…Yet that means nothing to me.
Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich? That is foreign. That is not anyone that I know of. I am Nikto. I am no one. Nobody to know, yet somebody that I know of. Not this… Igor. I am nobody. Никто.
When the voices are quiet, that's when I can silently mourn the man that I once was.
Though, can you mourn someone whom you don't know? Can you mourn the faceless person in the casket, whose face is unrecognisable? Can you mourn at a funeral that no one attended, and hadn't taken process?
I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to repeat it, yes?
I knew it. We knew it. Everyone else knew it.
But you didn't. You. You.
You… remind me of someone.
They're dead now.
They were just a target. Too bad I can't remember who they were.
But you're not. You're more than a target.
You treated me with kindness when everyone avoided me like the bubonic plague. A Black Death following the death of the former Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich and the black, black blackness lingering — a reminder. But not anything that allows us to remember, or reminds us of who we once were.
I don't remember anything. I don't remember anyone. Photographs of my family before the torture are irrelevant. Documents stamping my existence could just as easily make us inexistent. Nobody exists any more aside from Nikto.
A cacophony of voices has infiltrated my brain. Our brain. We will never be me anymore. We are who we are now.
I am a broken man. I hear the voices of many men, who won't let me sleep, won't leave me be, won't give me peace. I was one of those men. Maybe all of the men are me?
But if all of them are me, and I am all of them, then who are we? What are we?
Then again… who I am is nothing. What I are is everything. What we are — crazy.
The pieces of the puzzle aren't fully there. Surely you must have been aware, my treasure?
You were doing your due diligence to arrange the puzzle pieces, so meticulously and with dedication, devoting hours of your time and wishing for the finished product to be cohesive, but you won't find that within us. How unfortunate.
Some of the pieces are missing. Some of them don't even fit. What you're left with is an incomplete picture — one which will never be completed.
No matter. You can be the missing puzzle piece, yes?
My fellow operatives named me Никто — “Nikto”, meaning “Nobody” or “No-one” in Russian — for… what did they say? My “uncanny ability to replicate other people and hide [my] true identity”? Ironic — seeing as replicating an identity is not the same as claiming your own, and being an individual. Having an actual identity, as opposed to being forced to think that being nobody can suffice.
Funny. I was apparently religious before all of this.
Have you heard of Orthodox Christianity? It's a branch of Christianity most often practised in Eastern Europe, in case you weren't aware. Orthodox Christians believe that Jesus redeemed humanity by sacrificing himself through crucifixion — unlike Catholics, who believe that Jesus sacrificing himself through crucifixion was all in an effort to redeem humanity.
Perhaps I was an altar boy in my childhood. Or wore a cross around my neck. Maybe I was devoted, and prayed in the morning, before a meal for grace, in the night, before a mission for mercy, during a mission out of desperation, and after a mission as gratitude.
Such bullshit.
Obviously, God doesn't exist — not in the ethereal, omniscient sense.
Oh no.
The God is You. You are my God.
Just like with Orthodox Christianity, and the salvation of humanity after the sacrifice of Jesus, your presence, your mere existence, was salvation. You brought redemption unto us.
Of course, following my torture, God became an abstract concept. How could the Holy Father abandon me? How could my prayers after the tortue be so wilfully ignored? Why would he actively play a passive role in my damnation, as I'm burned, as I'm beaten, as I'm bruised, abused, cut, and mutilated?
No one was born a sinner. Not even me, this nobody. So what kind of retribution was this — a disfigured face, ruined body, and voices which infiltrated my psyche, words equivalent to the evil of the Antichrist?
But You? You made it worthwhile. Your kindness. Compassion. Charity. It was all worthwhile. Even to gaze at You from afar.
Well.
For the most part.
We have repented for our sins: stealing Your dirty laundry, Your hairbrush, Your t-shirts, and other trinkets which we deem Holy Relics; using Your lip balm without permission, You none the wiser; committing sinful acts in the comfort of your own bedroom, only for You to return, oblivious. We apologise for that nagging paranoia, demanding You to turn around, to catch a glimpse of the eyes staring at You, but You not noticing us when we were camouflaged in the shadows. For stalking You and learning Your schedule. For hacking into all of Your devices and acquiring every little piece of information available from Your digital footprints.
But, You forgive us, yes?
Don't look so horrified, dushka. We left no trace, yes? No evidence. You said You have forgiven all of our transgressions. Think of this as a confession, nothing more. Besides, we never tampered with You belongings. They're all still with us. Just like you will.
You are our oxygen. Without You, we can't breathe. Our lungs suffocate without Your natural scent to fill them, to keep us alive. Our eyes go blind with time without the sight of Your face, Your body. We can't hear anything other than Your voice — our ears tune out any frequencies and wavelengths that don't leave those pretty little lips, yet wage civil war amongst ourselves, spitting curses that cut like knives and pierce like bullets. And Your lips. And Your eyes. And Your eyebrows, hair, hands, neck, God — everything.
You won't abandon us, yes? You wouldn't abandon us, would you, мое сокровище? You are our treasure. I treasure you — all of us do: your pretty little lips, that speak in the softest of tones to us; those eyes that stare in slight fright, yet crinkle in as genuine of a smile as you can manage; those eyebrows that furrow over your bright eyes in the subtlest of frowns, in sorrow or frustration, maybe vexation — and that's just your face. What about your hair? Your hands? Your neck? Your body? What is there not to treasure?
Боже мой, Bozhe moy, my God. Oh God, it's as if an angel has descended and granted us salvation, a merciful deity absolving us of our sins and cleansing our soul. And both the angel and deity are You — working in perfect sync, so benevolent and forgiving, taking pity on a creature so pitiful, so ruined, so unfixable.
We can't remember what some of those was.
Those puzzle pieces, of course.
Zakhaev’s torture stole some of the pieces to the jigsaw, and the puzzle won't ever be solved. We ourselves interrogate, torture, eliminate, kill. Sometimes we dissociate. Other times I am completely in control. Yet all the time, we are committing sins, sins, sins.
And You forgive them. Forgive us.
Every prayer is us praying for you, to you, about you. And each one concludes with your sacred name, whispered in hushed tones as the syllables are too precious to utter out loud.
Poor, poor thing. You probably didn't even know what you were signing up for, did you? You probably intended to be charitable. Sympathetic. And you were, sweet one.
But you were naive to have assumed that we wouldn't become possessive of you like an unwanted stay mutt of its only bone. So innocent — perhaps stupid — but we like to think that you were misguided in your intentions, yet guided by some God.
An ignorant God? If You're the God to worship, then are You an ignorant one? An innocent, naive, and unconditionally loving one? Yet, one that, despite Their obliviousness, can knowingly soothe with a simple string of words? With a caress?
What an oxymoron. It suits You. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Aw. Are those tears, dushka? Let's wipe them, hmm? Kiss it better, yes? You will like our lips on you.
Don't scream. Don't hurt those vocal cords. We like the sound of your voice. We want you to talk.
There there, little one. You look beautiful when you cry, but you look most beautiful when you're smiling. Smile, hm? Do it for us. Your Nikto.
You don't have to be afraid, you know. Don't be afraid, krasotka. We love you.
Here, put your hand on our chest. Feel how our heart is beating? It beats only for you.
Our abdomen, our stomach. You feel how toned that is, yes? You feel the muscle?
What about our biceps? The strength in our forearms? They're all for you. We're all yours, yours yours yours.
Our blood looks good on you, dushka. The blood really accentuates your nails. But please, stop. Stop.
You don't have to scratch us, or scream. You know that none of that will change anything. You know that we will love you, even if you tell us you hate us. It's too late.
Get used to touching us, yes? What's left of us, anyways. Yes, our body won't be the most appealing, or the handsomest, but it's all for you. Every inch. All for you — just like how you are all ours.
You're ours, just as much as we belong to you. You could stab us with a knife and we'd smile. You could shoot us with a gun point-blank in the head and we'd thank you. What an honour it would be to live with you by your side, or die by your side. We're a dead man either way. Your dead man. Your Nikto.
You underestimated my capacity for violence. Or were perhaps too naive to understand it.
That's okay. Put your hand on my face. Just like that. See? Nothing to fear. It's just us. Your Nikto.
I can feel it shaking. Why do you shake so much, hm? Don't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. You should know there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, you were fearless when it came to speaking to me, and weren't afraid to reach out to us. Surely you don't want to abandon us now?
That's too bad. You won't abandon us. We won't let you.
I'm crazy: I don't think I need to repeat it, yes?
I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.
You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
So crazy.
So, so crazy.
I am already crazy yes but it is You who drives me to insanity do You know that? Why do You deny? Do not deny us this yes? Yes You do know that it is You who makes me mad beyond return of course You do You've always known it and You know it now little one You're just pretending feigning ignorance with surprise in Your eyes. Why pretend that it was all a pretense? Your kindness? Your sympathy? Your company? It was not pretense to us no it was everything. Everything we could have hoped for prayed for and lived for.
You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
So crazy.
So, so crazy, baby.
Craaazyyy. Crazy crazy crazy!
You have made us the craziest we have ever been from the moment we met Your eyes and will be forever driven crazier with Your around from the day You die. And that won't be anytime now, my treasure. We will treasure You, take care of You, keep You safe. You will want for nothing, we can assure You — nothing, nobody, no one. Only Nikto. Nobody will ever look at You, as their eyeballs will be gouged out for having the audacity to spare a glance at the pinnacle of perfection. And nobody will ever want You, nobody will taint that precious skin with unworthy fingers, as anyone who tries will have them broken have their bones crushed to dust their skin muscles and tendons ripped to ribbons until there is no body left.
Nobody will ever look at You. Only Nikto. Us. Forever, and ever, and ever and ever and ever we will have our eyes on You until our retinas dissolve and our pupils can no longer absorb light and we become blind and crippled, crying, crying crying crying for You, crying only for You. You crying out for us until Your voice is hoarse from moaning, until our name becomes a prayer just as much as Yours is to us.
We love You. Think of nobody. Only Nikto. Only of Nikto. Only for and against Nikto. We will live for You. We do already, do you understand? We're yours. Yours. Yours yours yours yours yours yours to have yours to hit yours to scratch with those nails yours to scream at yours yours yours yours yours. Yours. Yours! Yours!
Yours!
Y/N.
I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?
I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it. You should have known it.
And if you didn't know it, then You will know it.
Because You drive me crazy.
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A/Ns
Really really really Really REALLY had doubts about posting this and thought that no one would like it. I felt inspired and happy and proud of myself when I was almost finished but it took me days to conclude the work since I was second-guessing whether or not I should post this after all. Kind of embarrassed, in all honesty, but I decided to post it in the end since I quite like it. :'>
I just wanted to highlight your, @//connorsui, lovely, lovely words when you reblogged my last Nikto post 😭😭😭💘💘💘. To receive not only some compliments, but your thoughts on my headcanons AND analysis *AND* your evaluation of my post was so, SO heartwarming to wake up to in the morning 🥹🥹🥹💓💓💓, especially when it was so long!!! Like, what?!! 😢😢😢😢😢😿😿😿😿😿😭😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨
Thank you so so so SO much for your positive feedback !!! I've read it over four times by now. O really appreciated and still appreciate it. ☺️💞🫶💖✨✨💕💕
(I also want to kiss Nikto's scarred face ☹️☹️☹️ just wordless acts of intimacy where words aren't necessary and just to show the man some affection, regardless of how he looks 😟💝 need that ugly traumatised Russian man SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭)
Inspiration for this gained from:
thisvvv song!!! and Chapter 7 in Metro 2035 lol,, when Artyom was drunk and disorientated I thought it was written really REALLY well and I wanted to incorporate his meaningless drivel into this.
Nikto's voicelines and his various voices/sporadic changes in character
the Fandom Wiki
my own headcanons lol 😋
From fluff this whatever the fuck this is!!!!!!!!!! Hope you enjoyed 💗💗
Yall this is also super specific...
Do you think he has a scar on his forehead and he's tracing it?
@simp4konig
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.
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
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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 🥲
