Puppy patches

Rub my belly, guts my belly Theylthem - Cucu

[cucusainte]

the boy sticker im making to sell at a festival //

[cucusainte]

Anya n Nikto got married (Anya propose cause Nikto cant even man up lil bro is autistic as hell)

plus them on their honey moon

[cucusainte]

I'm still doing good with Nikto guys

Tomodachi life is feeding my delusion

[cucusainte]

hiatus notices.

I'm very sorry but for now I will not be logging on this account for a long time due to being harassed/my mutual being harassed along with me. My personal information is probably in some of my mutual ask box now and I'm very sorry for the confusion. The art trade and commission I will privately send 😓.

. Tumbler was supposed to be a small safe space for me to post random art without rlly caring for other fanbase /cringe culture but few of my stalker decided to hop on here and death threating my friend + mutual while some other spreading my personal information too. Will you guys again soon! Thank you for tagging along with me by now.

[pale-elysium]

I was thinking about Nikto's origins and how, in my opinion, so much boils down to the environment he grew up in and especially his time in the military. I believe his military service in Soviet times (or post-soviet times, depending on how old you hc him) is so essential for his character and the man he became.

Content warning under the cut:

death, violence and abuse (psychological and physical), torture, suicide, rape, murder

A little bit of context: I come from a small town on ex-soviet territory that used to house a sizable red army garrison — the townspeople outnumbered by Russian soldiers 1:4 during its heyday. Pragmatically the locals arranged themselves with the occupying forces, officially working for them or haggling through the barbed wired fences. My mum told me about parades and deployments they would hold in town. Rows and rows of young soldiers, almost boys still, with shaved heads and empty gazes, goose-stepping through the streets and reeking of cheap aftershave.

You can still find the remains of this garrison today, like barracks in the middle of the forest with crumbling propaganda murals still visible, a young soldier holding his rifle with a proud and determined look towards a bright future infront of a red star. Even a forgotten Lenin stature that is slowly taken over by nature infront of the old commanding officers headquarters you can visit. As kids and teens we used to sneak around the ruins on the edge of the town and today we like to pick mushrooms or walk the dog at their old training grounds whenever I visit (be careful if you find ammunition or an unexploded land mine).

The crumbling walls remain, the people that inhabited them left in 1994. Their faces left an impact though, especially those of the low recruits and foot soldiers that made up the majority of the garrison. What did they feel and think when they were sent to this place thousands of kilometres away from home, barely out of adolescence and drafted for military service?

The conditions they lived in must've been harsh to say the least from what my family and other locals remember about them. Young men with dark shadows under their eyes, thin and haggard and with buzzed hair to counter lice infestation inside their barracks, the mentioned aftershave to cover poor hygiene. My dad told me stories about how their military police would sometimes chase deserters through the town or the surrounding forests. How one day he was driving his motorbike to somewhere and suddenly two military jeeps shot out of the tree line right in front him across the street, certainly in search of someone. How one night a young soldier jumped through the open window of his friends house, desperately begging them in Russian to hide him as the military police approached outside already with their searchlights. How sometimes they would spot army trucks with plain coffins stacked in the back leaving the town.

Have you heard of the term dedovshchina (дедовщина, "reign of the grandfathers") before? It is the culture around the systematic mental and physical abuse from older soldiers ("grandpas") towards younger conscripts in the Russian army to establish an informal hierarchy and dominance among themselves. This contains a vast array of traditions, rules and rituals and can range from the young ones simply having to do the elders laundry to extreme mental and physical violence, rape or even murder. Despite officially being illegal of course, it's considered a way of keeping order and discipline. Even to this day suicides or murders linked to dedovshchina happen. I recommend the Wikipedia article if you want to learn more about it.

One must consider that Nikto was most definitely on the receiving end of dedovshchina and probably executed it himself as well, be it out of personal motivation or because of social pressure from his fellow comrades.

And what little we know about him from his biography, Nikto's life for a long time and especially during his formative years as a young man, must've been largely defined by the military. He didn't just do the mandatory service time and then left to enter civilian life again, but he stayed, made a career out of it. The culture around it became part of his essence, broke and shaped him into something new.

Did he survive his torture and "remains a methodical and calculating soldier" because he speaks the language of violence and abuse, learned to understand and speak it himself fluently from a young age? Most would break, he didn't. Maybe because to some extend he might be perpetrator and victim in one.

[anaheimas]

Nikto x Reader mind shortly after returning from captivity.

He thought that if he returned, everything would be a little easier. There would be a room with a dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, an old kettle, the rattle of the radiators, the smell of tobacco, curtains soaked up the winter gloom, and a person worth holding on to until this evening. It seemed like that would be enough to make him feel alive again.

It wasn't.He didn't return whole.

Something remained there—in the dampness, in the blood, in someone else's fingers, in the pain after which the body no longer responds as his own. Now it lives on as a separate, vile memory: it shudders at footsteps behind it, stiffens at an accidental touch, chokes on air if someone's hand lingers too close to its neck. As if it still hasn't realized the torture is over. As if home, too, is temporary.

And love... love has become worse.

It used to be quieter. Like the light in a window on the outskirts, like snow at four in the morning, like silence in the kitchen where nothing needs to be explained. Now there's almost nothing peaceful about her. Now it's not a feeling, but a fever. Fear. An unhealthy, bitter attachment to the only person who still makes this world bearable.

He looks at the reader and thinks not about how he loves, but about how easily one can lose. How quickly only an empty space remains of the living. That's why he listens to someone else's breathing at night, that's why he notices every pause, every hesitation, every shadow of fatigue on their face. Not because he doesn't trust. Because he knows all too well how people are broken; he's experienced it himself.

И хуже всего то, что ему нужно это тепло. Ему нужно оно почти унизительно, почти мучительно. Он хочет уткнуться лбом в чье-нибудь плечо, замереть, поверить, хотя бы на мгновение, что его больше никогда не коснутся. Но как только читатель прикасается к нему, его тело вспоминает все раньше, чем голова. И вместо покоя — дрожь, судорожное дыхание, темнота под веками.

Нежность снова становится чем-то, что нужно терпеть.Возможно, именно так всё и изменилось.

Before, he loved carefully. Now—like a drowning man. Before, there was something alive in it. Now—only fear, insomnia, and an almost superstitious obsession with keeping the reader close. Staying alive. Not disappearing.

Not becoming another pain that he'll have to carry under his ribs until the end.

[cucusainte]

little Anya with Nikto!

[meff25]

What kind of tiger is this lion?

[l3ibnest]

Soap with dogs!

Gaz with dogs!

Price with dogs!

Ghost with demons! TF 141 with dogs🐶 It's been a while painting full rendered pieces, enjoyed a lot! Inspired from awesome @yourfaithfulauthor's request.

[thatunhealthyone]

daily sketch Nikto

bonus:

sometimes babygirl is a war criminal

[cucusainte]

Look at my daughter I have habit of carrying one specific plushie with me 24/7

[ilylovelyz]

tw : simon fucks you till you piss yourself.

your cunt gushes obscenely with every deep thrust of simon's hips, both of your arms behind your back with a single large hand of his.

his cock, heavy and pulsing inside of you, thumps against your cervix each time he humps your ass, sloshing around the old loads of his cum that he already dispensed within your pussy.

he has you on your knees, chest against the bed, your nipples stiff and dry from the constant stimulation. its painful, he's had you come several times around him, finding enterainment in the way you so easily can gush around him with a flick of his fingers on your clit.

"shiimon," you slur out, muffled in the sheets damp with your slick and tears and other fluids. simon stops his ruthless pounding on your cunt, opting for a harsh grind balls deep against your cervix, teasing the already battered and bruised tissue.

"tha's tha shit huh, baby?" he says lowly, almost out of breath. "enjoyin' yourself?"

you whine at his teasing, attempting to hide yourself into the ruined pillows before simon is slapping a heavy hand onto the sensitive flesh of your asscheek, already red with his hand print. he can be so mean sometimes.

you're not given a warning before simons laying his entire 250 pound pure hardened muscle of a body onto your much more sensitive and fragile one, screaming helplessly as the last inch of his cock that you always struggle to take slides in forcefully, pressing painfully against your cervix as if he was on a mission to break it and pass through into your womb.

if only.

with his body weight fully on top of you, youre given no choice but to go limp and flat against the mattress, your tummy and breasts digging into the material. simon lets out a throaty moan when your cunt squeezes around him, cock twitching upwards into what feels like must be your guts as you messily cum on his cock, your juices leaking out around him and creating an even bigger mess on his and your thighs.

"thats it girl, good girl," he praises, his hips tight against your ass. he leans down, his chest against your back so he can lay open-mouthed kisses against your earlobe, relishing in the way you shiver and attempt to squirm away from the overwhelming stimulation.

simon begins rocking his hips once more, slowly. feeling your walls open and close with every in and out of his movement. the peace is there for a moment, you're quiet and almost comatose from how good he's fucking you until simon becomes discontempt with your silence and hes angling his hips and pulling out until his tip is hardly inside of you and slamming back inside to the hilt.

its with the new angle that your back is forced to arch, pressure elevated to your lower tummy and as result your bladder.

its then that you begin to really panic. thrashing wildly and sobbing for simon to stop, clawing at his hand that is holding yours.

"s-simon! 'm gunna pee!" you cry, face hot as summer sun from pure embarrassment.

simon only scoffs, smiling lightly at your panicking. but he doesnt move. he instead uses his forearms to hold himself up, using his weight and slamming his hips against your ass with a lewd "plap plap plap".

youre wailing at this point. his ruthless thrusts force your tummy against the mattress, the immense pressure of his tip plunging against your cervix, proves to be too much for you. youve taken everything he's given you, letting him wear you like a fleshlight until youre nearly bursting at the seams, but this is too much.

"simon!" you warn one last time, sobbing and trying to push yourself upwards and away from him. with one final aimed thrust to your cervix, the dam breaks loose, your eyes rolling to the back to your head as you tremble and your muscle contract painfully as you cum once more, except instead the water isnt a small trickle and instead its a long stream of your piss.

simon just moans, long and loud, tipping his head back, continuing his thrusts. he flushes at the lewd sight of you twitching so cutely, pissing yourself from cumming too hard from his efforts.

he bites at his lips, humping weakly against you some more before hes pulling out, wet squelches audible as he pulls his engorged cock from the tight confines of your pussy. if you werent fucked nearly to the last inch of your life, you would feel the mattress dip underneath simons heavy weight as he shuffed towards your face, jerking his cock noisily over your face, his eyes glued to the puffiness of your eyes and cheeks, the wetness from your tears and the clear defeat in your bones, tipping him over the edge and at long last cursing your name as his cock spurts several hot ropes of his potent cum over your adorable face.

—cod masterlist.

[cucusainte]

would you ever make a toyhouse? I’ve been a longtime fan of your work and ocs so it would be nice to have a singular place where all your drawings and sketches are organized and viewable at once :3 also wish u the best

I don't know how to. Ame a toy house or code it 😭. . I remember having the code(?) But might have lost it... I would love too but I'm kind of overwhelmed by how it work/coding aspect TT

[cucusainte]

Customized my messenger bag! I'm proud of it so I'm gonna post it here too :J

[milkywayhou]

Yes.. Normal

I saw this picture a few hours ago and can't stop myself from made a quick art of König

[stormfrun-corp]

I guess... it's time to post this here too... oh god, I need to redraw this...

There were a lot of funny comments on Pinterest, but HONESTLY, HE DOESN'T DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT.

König Autor: @hard_live_stormfrun | Character art, Call of duty ghosts, Call off duty

Life is hard, but hard is life. Автор и админ: @Rose_of_Winde

[clamfairy]