after you start dating könig, you bring up something about work and he looks over at you with genuine confusion.
"work? why are you still thinking about such things? did you forget that i am taking care of you now?"
but you didn't forget. it was never even established that he planned on fully supporting you.
you laugh it off at first and tell him you would never expect that of him, especially when the two of you just got together. still, he's insistent about you quitting your job. and while never having to work again sounds great, you'd rather not have to rely on anyone else.
in the end, könig takes it upon himself to tell your boss that you won't be returning and that as your husband, he'll be providing for you instead.
your lack of choice in the matter should bother you more than it does and you briefly consider getting upset at him for going behind your back to have your job terminated — something he shouldn't even have a say in. but... the idea of being his stay-at-home partner is too tempting, so you accept the situation and ignore the alarm bells ringing in your head.
the notification pops up for the 4th time that day. you lost track of how many times it's been this week that the username has been in your notifications.
on the first day, they followed you and then spammed liked everything you posted. after that, anything you reposted was immediately liked by that account. when you lurked on their profile, there was nothing on there. no posts, no followers, and no following—other than you, of course.
you're both flattered and creeped out by the attention. social media isn't some huge thing for you, so it's not like you have a big following or loyal fans; you post for yourself and whatever friends that have you added. you're unsure what it is about your silly profile that has them so hooked that they visit it multiple times a day.
opening up the app, you head to your drafts, filled with videos and photos that you've decided won't see the light of day until the time is right. landing on a cute video of you from a few weeks back, you figure that this is one of those 'right times'.
moments after you hit post, your phone lights up.
user921353 liked your video.
social media is for stupid people and nikto stands by that belief.
he's seen enough of the bullshit that's on those apps from krueger showing him and has wanted no part of it. there's no appeal to sitting there scrolling through a phone, looking at the ridiculous things people want to say or do; he deals with enough of that around base.
it's not often that krueger shares any links with him through messages, but nikto hates clicking on them because they always open up to something that tries to prompt him to make an account and follow krueger.
no thanks.
but when you sent over a link to a video, nikto suddenly found himself more interested in having an online presence.
"oops meant to send that to someone else! sorry!"
he hadn't responded to your text, but had clicked the link and rather than seeing sebastian's page for the nth time, he was redirected to yours. trying to click on any of your posts just prompted him to make an account, so begrudgingly he found himself signing up, hurrying through the process so he could see what kind of stuff you were posting.
nikto doesn't understand the appeal still, but he greatly enjoys having a way to watch your face without having to stare you down in person. now, he can look at you as much as he wants with no issues.
Trees, trees, and more trees. The few windows you could see offered no view beyond dense greenery and the dull gray of metal bars covering the glass. Your gaze drifted around the room, taking in the rustic furniture and nature-themed art work that lined the walls. Cozy wasn't the word that first came to find, not given the circumstances.
The huge man kneeling in front of you was talking, but your head throbbed too badly to focus on his words, all your energy going into trying to figure out where he'd taken you. A small cabin in a forest seemed the most likely answer, but since you had been knocked out while he transported you, that was about all you could piece together.
Doesn't look like there's any houses behind the treeline… If only I could—
"Hallo?" The man's face suddenly blocked your view, forcing your attention back to him, "You understand?"
The sound of his voice caused another sharp spike of pain through your skull and you winced before mustering up a glare. "Understand what? Who are you?"
"Who…?" Dark blue eyes widened, lips parting in surprise, taken aback by your question. He reached for your hand and lifted it up, and for the first time since waking on that dingy couch, you notice the sparking diamond ring adorning your finger. "I am your husband. Did you hit your head too hard?"
He raises his other hand up as if to examine you, but you jerked away. The fog that clouding your mind since waking finally began to lift, replaced by a panicked clarity. You didn't hit your head, but you're sure that he had.
"Husband? I don't know you!" You tried to shove him back, which did nothing but prompt him to grab your wrists, which only made you freak out more. Squirming didn't help and your kicking didn't faze him either. Your mind raced trying to recall some kind of self-defense tactic that might actually work against him.
In an unknown location with a freakishly huge man who claimed to be your husband and had already used violence to knock you out cold so you were easier to move… yeah, you were fucked, but you didn't want to give up so easily.
"Let me—"Another swing of your leg towards his thigh"—go!"
He didn't even grunt in pain at that. Instead, he forced you back onto the couch, massive hands pinning your arms to your side while he leaned over you. His knee came up between your thighs, trapping you down on the cushions.
Eyes darted around to see if there was any item you could grab as a makeshift weapon the moment he released you before they landed on a familiar bag. Your large duffel bag that you use for traveling, unzipped and seemingly filled to the brim with your personal items, if the pairs of panties nearly spilling out the top were anything to go by. Your stomach twisted at the realization that this wasn't impulsive, that he must have been planning this for who knows how long.
As your resistance faltered, your captor eased off of you as his eyes follow yours. When you looked back at each other, your mouth hung slightly open and his own expression morphed into unmistakable pride.
"See, all your favorite—"
"You sick fuck!"
"Don't say that, Schatz," his grip tightened painfully, and his gaze hardened, an immediate reminder that you shouldn't get mouthy with a man who decided kidnapping you was reasonable… and had successfully went through with it. "I told you: You will be happy here. That much I promise. Just behave for me."
He released your arms, and his free hands moved to cup your face, rough palms engulfing your cheeks. You had noticed how large he was the moment you woke up and while you didn't remember his initial ambush, you doubt that you would have realistically been able to deter him from abducting you.
The fire driving you to fight him dimmed as you realized your body felt terribly wrong. Still, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, "I want to go home."
"This is home."
You didn't bother to argue, but you weren't about to agree either. Movement at the window caught your attention. A small bird perched on one of the bars, peering inside before flying back off into the trees.
"Can you at least tell me where we are?"
His head tilted to the side, genuine confusion crossing his face, "Did I not just tell you?"
Frustration threatened to overtake the panic bubbling up inside of you, but you swallow them both down, struggling in your attempt to stay levelheaded. You stare back at him while you collect your thoughts, and really take in his face. In another life, you might've thought him handsome as you passed him on the street, but right now, you wanted to claw at that face, adding to the small scars that litter it.
His thumb brushed between your brows, rubbing the skin as if smoothing out the tension, "Don't look so upset with me on our first night here together. Besides," he gestured between your ring and his own, "you agreed to this."
"I didn't agree to anything," the words bitterly jumped out before you could stop them and you knew you screwed up when his own brows furrowed. For a brief moment, you wondered if he would knock you in the head again for mouthing off. "We… we agreed, right? This—" you refused to say marriage"—takes two people, so…"
As much as you wanted to argue with him, to assert the fact that he is crazy and you're not a couple, or to even try to fight against him, you couldn't see it resulting in anything that ended in your favor.
Blue eyes softened again at your words, seemingly pleased by your attempt to placate him. "Of course. Now," he patted your thigh before standing back up at full height, "let's get settled in, ja?"
The ache in your skull began to flare again.
"Leaving already? It's your turn to buy drinks, you know?" Krueger watched as the hulking man hurriedly collected some papers, having turned down yet another invitation to poker night.
Before you, König had stayed on base most days, regardless of whether there was any pressing work to be done or not. But now, he wanted nothing more than to go back to your secluded slice of heaven and smother you with affection. Boring days filled with paper work and meetings — you were on his mind. Days spent away on dangerous missions and fighting enemies on the field — you were still there, his driving motivation to come back in one piece. And if he had any opportunities to himself, he'd sneak away to jack off to a small photo of you that he'd stolen away from a photo album on your desk the night he packed up your belongings.
You had set your difficult behavior aside, finally cooperating to make married life easier by freely giving your own love to him. König was immensely proud of how far the two of you had come together and he even begun to toy with the idea of letting you go outside again since you had been such a good wife for him.
"Skipping out on us again?" Horangi asked, walking up to stand beside Krueger. "Not cool."
"Buy your own drinks," König's voice was unnecessarily harsh. "I'm going home. Meine Frau—"
Krueger smirked, "Ah, so that's what this is about. Maybe she can join us next poker night. As the prize, of course, if you care to share with us." He gestured at himself and Horangi, who held his hands up.
"Bastard. I should beat—" König stopped himself, clenching his jaw under the dark hood.
"Beat what, friend?" Krueger's voice was dripping in amusement, obviously looking to stir up trouble. "I'm simply curious after all of your bragging."
A rough shove on the shoulder as König walked by was the only response he gave the Austrian, resisting the temptation to throw the sleazy bastard into the concrete flooring face first. He doesn't intentionally brag, but he can't help bringing you up whenever he gets an opportunity. Doesn't mean that he'll share you with anyone he works with. The thought alone started to anger him again, so instead, he focused on you, the sweet wife that was waiting patiently for him at home.
This had been the longest time he had spent apart from you and it had been unbearable, even more so when he thought back onto your last few nights together. And he really shouldn't have been thinking like this before even leaving base, but he couldn't help wondering if anything had changed while he was gone.
Before deployment, König had fucked you relentlessly with his thick cock on your marital bed, intent of giving you a baby. To complete our family, he'd explained to you, using his long fingers to push back some cum that leaked out of your pussy. Your groans, to him, were proof of how badly you wanted to be bred by your husband.
A part of the reason he had been so glued to you was because of a sense of urgency — he wanted to get you pregnant before he left. The rest was pure addiction to your warmth around him every time he sheathed himself inside of you.
But as ready as he was to fuck you the moment he got home, he was just as excited for the quiet moments between the two of you. He had grown accustomed to hearing you hum while you baked in the kitchen as he sat at the table, hand sewing up torn holes in his hood, the two of you occasionally trading thoughts. A life that you two had built up together.
Would you greet him with a smile and a kiss when he got home? Hopefully. Maybe you'll throw your arms around him and tell him that you have good news, that his seed had taken and you'll have a little bundle of joy in the house by this time next year.
Fantasy tends to be kinder than reality, though, because when König finally walks up to the cabin, dread sank deep into his chest. The door he always kept locked up tight was blown wide open, and your wedding ring lay shining bright against the dark porch wood.
kyle is the friend you drunkenly run off with on stupid side quests when you’re out at the pub with the guys. johnny’s the one who typically has to drag you two back from whatever random spot that you decided to invade, usually another pub. simon and price don’t really understand it, which is why they leave the wrangling to johnny.
it’s not until a night hat kyle isn’t able to come out that you end up pulling johnny away from the group after several drinks, telling you that some random man at the bar just informed you that the establishment three doors down had crisps that were to die for and he just had to come with you to try them.
unfortunately, simon is the delegated wrangler for the night, wading through drunk people until he finds his own two idiots on a nearby bench eating while commentating on another group’s drunken fight across the street.
when you both spot him approaching you, arms crossed and stonefaced, the two of you share a look and burst out laughing before acknowledging simon.
johnny throws a heavy arm around your shoulders, dragging you into his chest. his finger pokes you as he looks over at the other man who is clearly less than amused.
“this one’s a bad influence, LT. can see why kyle likes runnin’ off with ‘em.”
delusional!könig telling people on base that he’s going to be taking off for a while because he’s got a cute new spouse waiting for him that he owes a honeymoon to. meanwhile you have no idea he exists… yet!
the honeymoon is really him forcibly moving you into the cozy little house he set up that is very much isolated from civilization!
cw: 18+!! fem!reader. stalking. predatory behavior. harassment/intimidation. violent fantasies. masturbation. dub/noncon themes.. krueger is a creep !
note: if you've read the previous parts.. heed the warnings in this one!! this is krueger-centric currently.. i didn't choose it but it happened anyways LOL
prev.
Unsurprisingly, the mission had gone according to plan, the needed intel acquired without much of a fight. Quite boring, but still better than things going south and being deployed for a much longer time frame. As much as Krueger enjoyed demolishing some enemies — much more entertaining than sparring with companions — he hadn't appreciated his new routine being interrupted.
He hadn't meant for it to turn into a habit, but there was something thrilling in trailing you around base, like a cheetah slowly stalking its prey.
Early riser. Easily sidetracked (how many times do you need to stop and chat with someone while going to and from places?). Tea over coffee most days… and some of those days you brew a cup in the morning and the evening. You fiddled with your necklace whenever you were deep in thought. Had a bad habit of covering your mouth when laughing too hard (insecurity?). And you nearly always swung by the mess hall before bedtime to swipe a small snack from the kitchen.
Oblivious — that was the huge takeaway about you from all of this. Instincts so incredibly dull, you were none the wiser to your new shadow. Naive, really, that you surround yourself with terribly dangerous predators, yet prance around blindly, asking for trouble to come and snatch you up into its jaws.
Based on the current time, Krueger could guess that you were probably just finishing up at the office. Fortunately for you, that was a place that you could get respite from his prying eyes… though you didn't know that.
He thought back to that night he walked into there, seeing you bent over your work. The way his name fell from your lips had popped into his head over and over again, but you had yet to utter it again. When you approached him the next day, you addressed him with a cold "Krueger" as you informed him that he had nothing that had to be signed at the admin building.
"So, don't worry about stopping by my office again."
Your tone had been so biting and he didn't even have the chance to tease you before you walked away without so much as acknowledging Nikto, who had been sitting beside him. Those ice blue eyes were heavy on your back before snapping to Krueger, roughly inquiring about what you meant.
You hadn't stopped by to chat after that.
It seemed like a case of the cold shoulder. Had you taken Nikto's absence in your office, papers stacked ready but untouched by him, as another rejection? Your heart really was so pathetically fragile.
Yet, how humorous was it that he sat around in his free time thinking of you, wishing to see you again as though he was longing for the lover that was waiting for him at home with open arms. He scoffed at himself.
Come morning, he would be back on base, eager to leave the old safe-house that reeked of old blood and rust.
"Seeing you again is refreshing. A nice break from all of the big, sweaty men," Krueger leaned against your desk, mindlessly toying with your bear figurine again.
Fate had dropped an opportunity to see you right into his lap the moment he landed; Bale had informed him that he had to swing by the administration offices because of something with his pay for the mission. The details were lost on him because most of the man's words went in one ear and out the other. All Krueger could think about was seeing your scrunched up face as you worked.
Of course, you hadn't been as excited to receive him.
Your eyebrows twitched, but you said nothing, eyes locked onto your computer screen as you typed away. Try as you might, Krueger was not about to let you just pretend that he wasn't there.
He walked around to your side of the desk and noticed how your fingers froze over the keys as he leaned down, setting one hand on the back of your chair.
The air in your office had been noticeably sweeter again compared to the rest of the dingy building, but the scent stood out most when he was beside you, allowing him to truly take it in: freshly picked red apples, sweet vanilla cream, and perhaps a hint of citrus underneath it all. Old memories dig themselves up — a young boy sat at a rickety old kitchen table with a plate of warm apfelstrudel, handmade by his mother for special occasions, so he savors it. But, always chasing more, he asks her to pour cream onto the pastry and she indulges him.
Not one for nostalgia, he buries the memory again.
Had you always smelled so delectable or was this merely something biological that was tempting him to have a bite of the treat sitting before him? If he ran his tongue over the soft skin of your neck, would you taste just as appetizing as he imagined?
Whatever bothersome words he had planned to say had already died out.
Krueger tilted closer, his eyes trained on your stiff hands hovering over the keyboard. Prey that refuses to move in hopes that it can remain undetected and that the danger will pass without striking.
A deep inhale and your scent flooded his brain, a welcome intrusion.
You jerked back, head swiveling around to glare at him, his hand losing the support of your chair as you moved away. You touched the spot that he had just had his nose over.
"Did you just sniff me?" Disgust was etched onto the entirety of your face, from your pinched brows to your down turned mouth, slightly open in disbelief.
Affirming that he did in fact do such a thing would be no issue — he had no reason to be ashamed of taking a whiff of you. After all, if you are going to walk around so toothsome, it should be no surprise that someone might appreciate it; whether that appreciation comes in the form of a simple compliment or a bite marring your skin shouldn't matter.
"Hm? Why would I do that?" He made a show of sniffing the air loudly. "It does smell very nice in here. Should I check if it is you that smells so good?"
There was no where for you to escape, so when Krueger got in your personal space once more, you physically stopped him from getting any closer, fingers digging into him above his chest before quickly retracting away as you realized what you did.
"Ugh, no thanks. But, you stink. Seriously, when's the last time you showered?"
He couldn't smell himself, but he was sure that you were right about his own stench. Sweat and blood from several days of deployment probably stung your nostrils, unlike how your own apples and vanilla gently surrounded him.
"Not a fan of my natural scent?" He teased.
"If your natural scent is shit, then no." You tried to add more distance between the two of you, though there was no where else to escape with Krueger blocking you in to your chair. "Didn't I tell you not to come to my office again."
"I do not recall that." He did, but when was he ever one to listen to orders? Always the defiant. The instigator. It was just in his nature.
You had occupied his waking thoughts while he had been away and though he could have made the effort to freshen up before stopping by, his aching feet had carried him to you first without a second thought.
Entertainment on base for Krueger came in the form of stirring up trouble, and you just happened to be his latest target. But this particular entertainment had become difficult to ignore. Bothering you whenever you waltzed yourself into his vicinity had been one thing. Going out of his way to seek you out was a whole other thing.
And fun was difficult to come by on base and he was just getting his fix from an easy source. Nothing more.
"Whatever. I'm going to lunch," you grumbled, pushing yourself out of the chair and chest to chest with Krueger. He stood unmoving for a second and hoped that your fingers would find their way to his chest again. When they didn't he granted you mercy by stepping out of the way, hand sweeping as though giving you permission to walk on by.
Krueger followed you out, stride matching yours. His arm brushed you a few times before you tried to subtly move away and tried to quicken your pace as you lead the two of you out of the building.
"What are we getting, hm?"
You abruptly stopped and crossed you arms over your torso — the first time in a while that you had that defensive stance, closing yourself off from him.
"We aren't getting anything. I have my plans already. Figure out your own," your words lacked fire, and you shifted on your feet uneasily. "And, stop following me."
Krueger feigned offense, "Lunch plans without me? I am starting to think you do not wish to be around me."
"Wow. Wonder what gave it away." That got a chuckle out of Krueger, but you continued on, "Seriously though, Sebastian, go shower. I don't think I could eat my lunch around you even if I wanted to." You scrunched your nose up in revulsion.
Men such as himself did not get butterflies in their stomachs — he was much too old for such juvenile feelings anyways. Yet something terrible inside of him coiled up upon his first name leaving your mouth again. It clawed up from his stomach, into his chest, and threatened to scratch his throat from the inside out.
How many different ways could you say his name? Disgust, anger, pleasure. He wanted to hear it all pouring out from your mouth again and again. Wanted to squeeze it out of you.
"If you are concerned about my hygiene, you are more than welcome to join me in the shower." Krueger knows exactly what reaction that will get, and you don't disappoint with your repulsed "ugh!" before storming away, leaving him without a proper goodbye. The sway of your hips was a nice view, so he wasn't too disappointed at being left in the dust like that.
With you gone, he turned right back to where the two of you had just come from, still needing to go see someone about his latest pay stub.
It took a frustratingly long time to get everything sorted out; several papers signed later and he almost wished he hadn't asked you about paperwork before. Though Krueger suspected the lengthy process was the fault of the person who was going over everything at a snail's pace. If you had been the one helping him—
He found himself in your office for the second time that day.
It felt empty with the lack of you, an empty chair sat behind the desk. Had you been in here, you would've scolded him, or maybe cutely turned up your nose again once you realized he came back without rinsing off like you directed him to. There was no plan on how he would press your buttons, just that he wanted to again.
He moved to sit in one of your chairs, but the blue of your cardigan called to him. It still hung over the chair, seemingly untouched since the last time he noticed it. Fingers trailed over the soft fabric as he recalled the time you had stood before him and Nikto, mindlessly plucking at the ends of the sleeves in what Krueger had figured was nervousness.
Cute color on you, but a damn shame you didn't seem to care for the piece anymore, having discarded it to the office chair.
A hint of strudel crept into his nose, and he glanced to the door, expecting to see your form but was met with nothing. He turned back to the cardigan and took it into his hands, the smell a lot stronger.
If you walked in now to see him pressing your clothes into his face, would you berate him? He was no longer sure what was turning him on more; the idea of you telling him off or the nauseatingly strong scent of you.
No one looked at him as he briskly headed out of the building, dainty cloth in his hand. This would be the only time he hoped that the two of you would not cross paths, that wherever you were was far enough away that he could get back to his room without a commotion.
Fate has a habit of keeping people on their toes.
He had nearly made it back to his sanctuary when he spotted you rounding the corner. You didn't see him, though, too busy in conversation with the man at your left side.
Nikto, however, did.
Any other time, Krueger would have seen this as an opportune time to interrupt the two of you and interject himself into the conversation as your unwanted third. But, he had a personal mission and he wanted to see it through, so he made himself scarce and took a longer way around all to avoid you.
Krueger woke the next morning to the scent of apples and momentarily forgot where he was, memories of his childhood home knocking against his head again. Your cardigan had been next to his pillow the entire night.
He had fucked his calloused fist the moment he had returned to his room, the cardigan held up to his face with the other hand as he imagined you being the one stroking his length instead of himself. Perhaps you had noticed the missing piece when you made it back to your office and were waiting to confront him today. His cock twitched as he pictured you poking a finger at him, demanding he leaves you alone.
A dance between the two of you played out in his fantasy as he jerked himself off into the cloth — the closest thing he had to you. You would finally lash out — violent and angry without a hint of restraint — and he would take it for a while, allowing you to beat him if you desired. And then, he would remind you of who you were really dealing with.
He nearly saw stars from cumming hard at the thought of viciously fucking you into submission.
What was stolen would be returned in better condition. His own little gift, of sorts. Krueger just wasn't sure if he wanted to return the cardigan to your office when weren't there so you could find it on your own time, soiled by him, or if he wanted to hand it directly to you.
reader was having a blast when krueger was off base fr...... torn between wanting to kick him in the head or being cordial bc nikto tolerates him....... sigh
simon watches you from his spot against the brink wall of the pub you two had stepped out of ten minutes prior. you had ran off again, now making conversation with a woman who was as drunk as you—maybe more judging by the way she wobbles around as if the earth is shaking beneath her feet. he can't hear what is being said due to the obnoxiously loud chatter of those passing by, but body language is enough to tell that it's an enthusiastic discussion.
it's a surprise that you aren't halfway down the street by now, but simon isn't going to complain about not having to hunt you down like most other nights out.
not that he had to tonight. price had stood up to walk off after you this time, but simon beat him to it, nearly knocking his drink over in the process of getting up.
he still has no idea what you saw this time that had you hurrying out, without kyle no less. typically you wait for him so that you can drag him into whatever impulsively absurd foolishness you conjured up for the night, but this time your interest had been peaked while he stepped away to use the toilet.
turning back to look into the pub through the large window, he can hardly make out three familiar figures still sitting where he left them. his own drink is certainly watered down now, but the desire to replace it just isn't there.
"whoa! gotcha!" a loud voice had his head snapping back over to you, only to find you leaning back into another man's grip, a stupid grin plastered onto his face. "would've been a nasty fall there, huh?"
your new drunk pal attempts to help you steady yourself and out of the stranger's grasp, but even with you standing upright, he makes no move to remove himself, keeping a hand on you while he questions if you're interested in continuing your fun night out with him.
lithe fingers skim your side and simon doesn't bother waiting to see how you react, a heavy heat blooming in his chest as he kicks off the wall and beelines to your little group.
the other man doesn't even see him until simon is pulling you into his side, the entirety of your attention now directing toward him.
"let's head back now, love." simon tries not to look over at him, not trusting himself to keep a harsh fist from flying into the bastard who had to gall to touch you like that.
your friend giggles and lets out an excited Oooo as she watches you lean into simon and look up at him like he's the best thing in the world.
"yeah, let's goooo. ready to be home again," you sigh against him before giving a quick wave to the girl standing there and then dragging him off away from the pub.
let's head back meant back inside to the others, but if you want him to escort you home, who is he to argue?
THINKING about nikto who is disappointingly bad at sex.. at least compared to your fantasies about him lol
cw: fem!reader
you'd been fantasizing about him, cumming on your fingers almost every night, pretending it was his instead of your own. your craving for him had gotten so bad that you could barely be around him without your thoughts wandering too far, heat pooling between your thighs until you were slick and completely distracted.
so when you finally get him into your bed and it's just… not at all how you imagined, the disappointment hits hard.
nikto's rough hands are on you, but he struggles to touch the right places. his fingers work you open, so clumsy and impatient. and when he finally sinks his cock into you, he fucks you with wild ferocity, all force and no rhythm. deep, guttural grunts are about all you get from him vocally, and his eyes hardly leave your face, staring at you so intensely that you struggle to hold his gaze.
still, he's there. you at least try to make the best of it, feigning interest, dragging your hands over his skin, kissing him wherever you can reach. and when he insists on continuing to pound into you long after he's already cum, you don't have the heart to stop him.
when he's finally finished with you, he collapses beside you and pulls you against his chest, petting you in what you assume is meant to be affection. telling him to leave feels cruel, so you let him stay until he decides he's ready to head out for the night.
"we enjoyed you."
"i'm… so glad!" you hope he can't tell how strained your smile is.
there's no proper kiss goodbye with the balaclava still covering his face, but he bends down to nuzzle your cheek before murmuring goodnight.
you want to wash your hands of the whole thing — hope it's something you both can quietly move past without it becoming awkward. but instead, you find yourself going out of your way to avoid nikto, turning the other direction whenever you spot him around the base.
the guilt eats at you; you know that you're the one who built him up in your head, who let your expectations spiral, but you can't bring yourself to act normal around him. worse, whenever you do see him, his eyes are locked on you, completely unconcerned with whether you notice him watching from across the room.
your little avoidance game doesn't last long though, not when nikto decides to make another visit to your room.
your crush on his is down the drain, yet his own crush on you has turned into something worse now that he's had you under him. xxx
