#nikto x reader

[violentlovesuccess]

TW: torture, mental torture

Things were never truly different for you, your imagination and spirit nothing beyond what a normal childs’ is. You grew up normal, not right or happy- but normal. You never had imaginary kids to play with, nor old loved ones that would come to visit you. The spirits watched, but never truly engaged. They loved you- sought you- but only watched. It wasn’t until your eighteenth birthday did things start to change. You’re not quite sure what the age manifested- maybe because you’re legally an adult? That this specific age has a significance to your soul? You’re unsure, and you’ll remain that way.

When you turned twenty, spirits amped up. You would see them everyday, the decomposed souls crawling to you for help. Your soul was like a beacon, any and all tortured spirits around you would find you- try and feed on that light. By this point, you hadn’t had a good grasp on your mind, the days were filled with fear and stress, your brain doing its best to ignore the rotted flesh that used to be faces staring at you, silently begging for help- to consume. 

Night was worse, always worse.

This particular night was different, though. You dreamed. The same dreams you would have before all of this started. Saw worlds and people you wouldn’t otherwise ever see. They were smart, kind, and they understood you. Maybe it was a different world, or maybe it was your mind trying to soothe the stress it always brings. What you did know- what you felt- when you transitioned to a moldy, concrete coated room, was the man in front of you was real. Even if it was a dream, his soul was real. Real- and it called to you. You didn’t know why. Maybe his soul shone like yours. Maybe he could see things, too. 

You didn’t recognize him, anyone that saw him that knew him wouldn’t either, there was so much blood and puss coating his skin, his cheeks seemed to be gouged out, the flesh on his arms, legs, stomach and back were flayed. The skin was cut, then looked to be torn off the rest of the way. Fingernails were ripped off, you could faintly see, and the smell of burnt skin lingers in the air, along with the screams. He was scared, in pain, and you could almost taste it. The air coated in misery. 

You stare at him in horror, this being worse than any nightmare you’ve had thus far. It felt real.

It was real. 

Though, you didn’t know that yet. 

Tears fall down your cheeks, but you can’t be bothered to be aware of them. The man's chest rose and fell quickly, like breathing has become too hard, too much effort. You step forward slowly, unaware that his blood coated eyes have seen you. He doesn't know if you’re his imagination- a pretty girl keeping him company in his final hours, or if you’re another soldier dressed down to throw his guard off. He assumes the latter, his senses and nerves frayed but still on high alert. He doesn’t thrash or move away from you though, he can’t. 

Instead, he stares. Prepping himself as much as he can for inflicting pain. 

It doesn’t happen. Instead, you fall to your knees in front of him, tears staining your face- he can’t help but think how pretty you look when you’re sad. You pull on the restraints holding his legs and arms down, but your grip falls straight through. With a sickening feeling of dread in your gut, you realize you can’t help him. This is only a dream. A dream Nikto can’t wake up from. But, you can.

You hadn’t realized you were screaming, the sight of such torture too much to bear, and you startle awake when your mother shakes you. As soon as you wake, the depth of what you’ve seen has dissipated somewhat, and you immediately write off the scene as just a bad dream. The man wasn’t real. His pain was only a manifestation of your own. An excuse you told yourself for years, despite the sight of him never leaving- the feeling of dread and helplessness never going away. 

The very next night, and the subsequent other ones, you spent time at the computer. Every word and occupation you could think of you typed down, hoping that that one word would be the one to bring you to the man you searched for. Maybe a police officer? P.I? Soldier? You searched and searched to no prevail. Without your knowledge however, the closest soldier to him, you jolted awake. His dream also coated in pain and fear- in the exact room he’d seen before. He searched for his friend. Even going to the same room he was tortured in, but hidden away, and eventually left, finding nothing. 

A year later that room echoes in his mind. He missed something, he needs to go back. 

When he does, without any time for the perpetrators to hide anything, he finally finds his friend. Igor Yagorivisch. A man now dead. All that’s left is a person no longer bound by identity. He is everything and no one. Nikto.

He is dead and alive, any sense of self is gone. The one thing that remains is the girl. The pretty girl that tried to help. The same one that set him free of Mr. Z.

He’s free and dead, all thanks to you. 

St4rv1ng-m0uth 

Rottensage

Pinkkyangel

Groovypandapainterzonk

thenonbinarycat

[feralrunaway]

Domestic Nikto (?? Sort of?? Ft bonus bff Krueger)

Nikto isn’t the type to fall in love. That’s just not something he does. (Ignore Krueger heckling in the background, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Crazy bastard.)

He just becomes increasingly involved in correcting a problem, and the problem happens to be her.

She is too soft, too friendly, and really kind of bad at life. Not stupid or helpless, exactly. But basic survival? ничего. A hot mess, truly.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t. She’s just another person. Another neighbor in the shitty complex he maintains an address at between contracts. She’s simply a collection of eyebrow raises, or what would be on another man whose aren’t scarred stiff and covered by carbon fiber.

Her porch light burns out and stays that way. Her gate drags on a loose hinge. Her car makes a noise she ignores like a fool. He’s never once heard her deadbolt turn. No, we are not listening to her’s specifically! It is simple observation! She stands on rickety chairs instead of buying a step stool. She carries every single grocery bag in one trip and then acts surprised when one breaks. Worse, she waves and smiles at everyone in this god-forsaken neighborhood and doesn’t watch her surroundings.

His initial assessment is simple: The neighbor is going to die.

(No one is actually trying to kill her, but that doesn’t change his conclusion.)

At first, he only watches with increasing irritation. Her problems are not his responsibility. She is an adult. Presumably, she has survived this long without him.

Then the smoke detector starts chirping.

Two days later, he has had enough. Small things begin fixing themselves. She comes home to the porch light working again. The gate stops scraping against the ground. She assumes the landlord finally did something useful.

Eventually, Nikto gets caught in the act. Her car is making a whistling sound this week, and when she comes outside, he is already standing beside it.

“Oh! Good morning! How are y–?”

“Open it.”

“Huh?”

A long stare.

“…The hood?”

“Да.”

She brings him coffee while he works. She doesn’t know how he takes it, so she guesses.

Thus begins an unfortunate new phase in which she realizes that Nikto knows how to fix things. She starts knocking on his door, holding broken objects.

“Do you know how to fix this?”

Of course he does.

“Can I borrow a drill?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Can you show me how to…”

“Move.”

He’ll insist it’s not affection. Her incompetence simply creates problems within his immediate environment. An operational security risk, if you will. If her car breaks down, she will not be able to leave and stop bothering him. If her furnace stops working, the pipes would freeze, there would be handymen involved…it would create a problem for the whole neighborhood, honestly. There is always a reason.

Except the reasons become progressively less convincing.

The real issue is that she’s kind to him without demanding anything from him. She doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask what happened to his face or why he’s always got a balaclava on. She doesn’t insist that he talk more or assume that he’s rude. Worse, she doesn’t even treat him like someone dangerous.

She just waves when she sees him. Every fucking time. Simply sees her neighbor and smiles.

Horrifically, there is a small, inconvenient part of him that perks up to that immediately.

There she is.

No.

She is carrying the groceries wrong again.

Not our concern.

The bag is tearing.

She will learn.

…

Blyat.

And then he’s already crossing the yard.

See I think the different parts of Nikto don’t necessarily exist as neat, named personalities. They’re more like…shifting configurations of the same fractured man. Some are suspicious, some cold, some exhausted, some unexpectedly amused by chaos (this part is why he hasn’t killed Krueger yet).

And one of those parts is softer than the others. Nikto doesn’t listen to that part very much. It is the part that understands humor, that occasionally wants company, and that remembers, however faintly, what it was like to want ordinary things. That part of him inexplicably likes the neighbor. The rest of him spends a fair amount of time debating why this is impractical.

She, meanwhile, has no idea he thinks about her this much. To her, Nikto is simply her strange, intimidating, extremely competent neighbor who keeps appearing whenever something breaks. He’s bossy. He rarely explains himself. He occasionally looks at her as though her continued existence is a fucking burden. She assumes that’s just how he is. And she just…accepts that, much to his face-palming chagrin.

Nikto really has no idea he is courting her. From his perspective, he is correcting dangerous inefficiencies in his immediate vicinity. The fact that he knows her schedule is irrelevant. The fact that he recognizes the sound of her car is just…practical, okay? The fact that he notices when she arrives home late is perfectly normal situational awareness. He’s trained for that, it’s just instinct.

Krueger figures it out in approximately four seconds. He watches Nikto take a trash bin from her because she is struggling to drag it through the snow.

“What? She was failing to do it properly.”

“Mhm.” *smirk*

“She would drop and spill it.”

“How terrible.”

“Animals would get into it.”

“Of course.”

“That affects us.”

Krueger looks pointedly at the forty feet of yard separating their houses.

“Do not.”

“I said nothing.”

(Krueger finds the entire situation deeply entertaining.)

Eventually, Nikto will have to stop denying the fact that she has become part of his life. Because somewhere along the way, the neighbor stopped being a nuisance, and became part of home.

[ghostussy-truther]

cw: omegaverse, omega nikto; part two, technically, so here's part one

I got hit with inspiration, have this. I wanted to make it a bit more serious, but I guess I'll do that another time

Omega Nikto, who completely lost touch with this side of himself. There's a lot parts of himself that he's missing after the torture, some broken, some gone, some, like him being an omega, completely forgotten. He never wanted to dwell on it, the idea of trying to put himself back sounding completely useless to him. What's the point of trying to put together the pieces that no longer fit? He'll never be the same again anyway.

And the idea of seeing what's left of past him being put together in a grotesque parody of that man, admittedly, hurts.

When you came along, bringing out the part of him he forgot about, he wasn't expecting to change. He couldn't. He wouldn't, even if he liked you. You deserve someone who's life isn't a mess of broken memories. But the universe doesn't care about his decisions and, when the scents and his instincts become impossible to ignore, he begrudgingly asks for your help.

And you agree. Stunned, confused, perplexed, even, but you agree, sqeaking in surprise when Nikto just grabs your wrist and drags you after him. Halfway to his room he realises what he does, but he's already committed to the idea, and changing his mind would mean to show that he's just some indecisive omega, and he's nothing but indecisive. He does relax his grip, though.

His room is... blank. Like he just got it half an hour ago, but there's blankets and pillows, and that's more than nothing, you think.

"Teach," he says, letting go of your wrist, and leans against the closed door, arms crossed on his chest.

You hesitate, for many obvious reasons, before stepping closer to the bed, inspecting it. You look small compared to him, he suddenly realises, watching you touching the pillows, adjusting and squeshing them. He has no clue what you're doing - checking if the pillows are fit for a nest, perhaps?.. - but he knows that you look right doing it. A bit awkward, sure, and there's hesitation in your movement, but mostly probably because you don't know how he'll react to you touching his attempt at building a nest, not because you don't know what to do.

"Well, you going to step closer or not?" you say, and Nikto straightens up, finally blinking.

"What."

"How will you learn to build a nest if you don't try it yourself? It's your nest," you insist.

He wants to say no. He wants to say that it's your fault that he's like this. He wants to tell you that your eyes are really pretty when you look at him like that, slightly wary but still amused. He wants to say that, since it's your fault, it's your responsibility to build his nest.

He steps closer instead, looming over you, almost two meters tall brick wall that vaguely smells like blooming tilia. He just watches you at first as you try your best to explain the basics, starting from the beginning, because you have no clue what he does and doesn't know, and, when you tell him to choose a pillow he likes more, he blinks at you, pale eyes devote of any emotions.

"Why?" he asks, and now it's your turn to blink at him.

"What do you mean ‘why’?" you ask back, and he looks away, staring at the pillows.

"Why would we choose? You're building nest," he says, and you're not sure how to counter that beautiful example of complete lack of logic.

"That's your nest, though," you try, and he grunts, before grabbing one of the pillows, squeezing it roughly, grumbling under his breath. "Maybe try without your gloves?"

Bad thing to say, apparently.

He snaps his head to look at you, gloved fingers digging into the pillow, his scent spiking, and, when you prepare yourself to be hit with that same pillow, he just exhales sharply, grumbling under his breath, looking down at the pillow.

"Is it necessary?"

"Well..." you drawl, not sure what to say, and take a tiny step to the side, regretting it the moment his shoulders drop in defeat. "Kinda?.. You build your nest to feel safe and comfortable in it, and people- well, most people prefer to have softer stuff in their nest to be comfortable."

Nikto stares for a long time at the pillow, and you wonder if you should say anything else, when he suddenly raises his head, glancing back at you.

"I can set traps. Traps make nest safe," he declares.

"H-hey, let's start with building the nest first, big guy," you intervene, raising your hands as if to grab and stop him when he inevitably try to step out of his room to get some explosives to make his nest "safe".

Clearly, there's a lot of things to teach him about nesting.

[hangmeandbangme]

What does Nikto think about celluite and banana Rolls on a fat assed female?

*insert “we do not care” meme*

Unequivocally, 100%, does not give a single fuck. I’d say the same for most Call of Duty characters, honestly.

Does Nikto like a fat ass? Absolutely. Does he care about the added features? No. He will lave his tongue over the rolls and dimples and bites big bloody smiles into the flesh there so you’re all marked up for him.

[stagnantwatersdrown]

Late Nights Huh? Snippet

Not one of your smartest ideas honestly.

You aren't usually the type to be out this late especially, all mom's lessons and early morning news report ensuring that. Tonight was different though, late night cravings to lazy to make a meal and not wanting to spend the extra $7-$10 on delivery you opted to go to place yourself. The street was cold and lifeless a clear reflection of the time, the streets lamps barely enough to illuminate the surrounding area, leaving you to use your phone flashlight to help you avoid stepping on the wet trash and mystery liquid that decorated the sidewalk. The tension of being out so late stiffens up your muscles as the cold air assaults your face, the smell of piss lingering in the air. The walk wasn't much to fuss about a solid five minutes, one songs worth maybe two. Could be worse honestly, luckily every person you walk past kept to themselves not that you were complaining.

The little yellow and red restaurant stood out pleasantly. Radiating warmth and welcoming compared to the closed or rundown businesses in the surrounding area. The large glass windows revealing two other patrons sitting at the worn out green tables. Making your up to the door a man catches your eye, you aren't the type to be the most hyper aware of every person that you walked by (you should really work on that). Usually not being one to stare lest they take it as a challenge but you kept your eyes on him, taking in his appearance. Wearing all black he practically camouflaged in the shadows where the light didn't reach. Broad body with a some height on him, leaned up against the side of a building smoking a cigarette. His dark wardrobe ensemble looked almost like his entire being was being blacked out from reality itself, leaving behind only his unsettling blue eyes. In conclusion the type of man you see with a wanted picture on the news, the type you wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

[violentlovesuccess]

Been thinking heavy of a psychic!reader and Nikto.

You grew up normal, your concerns boiled down to grades and the boy and girls you liked, but once you hit eighteen, that changed. 

You always had an affinity for the spiritual, feeling things around you that you cannot see, but after becoming an adult, you began to realize all that is around you that the others can’t perceive. Your dreams became cryptic- scary even. Each night, when your conscious mind is gone, do you see the monsters and angels that reside over everyone. At first, you truly believed they were just nightmares, something your mind conjures up to deal with your past trauma. 

Then, you see them when you’re awake.

A constant torture, a mental battle between you and the things you cannot see.

It all came to a head when Nikto walked into base. You were strong by now, your mental fortitude beyond anything anyone has ever seen. The U.S government needs you on their side, manipulating politicians and other world governments to suit their needs. Sent along the world without care for your stability, you find yourself in Germany. Your Colonel is a big mountain of a man, and he explains how other PMC’s will be brought to the base. 

Spetznaz is another private militia that was hired to work alongside you and Kortac, their soldiers much more brutal and rugged than you’re used to. A fact that wouldn’t bother you- and it doesn’t- but what does.. Is the silent man that walks through the front gates.

Your knees almost give out, and you stand there for longer than what is normal. This man, one adjourned in black and secrecy, is a man you’ve seen before. 

It was years ago, when you saw him for the first time. At that time- he was broken, more so than he is now. His face was bloodied beyond recognition, the skin on his body flayed and battered, the look in his eyes were vacant- scared. 

You stood before him at that time, eyes and body rigid as you looked at the zombie.. He looked dead- the only evidence of him being alive were the short, shallow breaths he forces himself to take. His eyes were coated in blood, and only on past reflection do you register that he was looking at you. 

Young and scared, you do what you believe is right- you try and loosen his restraints, tugging and pulling on the chains that keep him in place, only for your efforts to be futile. 

You’re not there, not really. 

Crouching in front of him, tears run down your face. The image of a man skinned and tortured lives freely in your mind. 

You convince yourself it was a dream, that the blood and gore was a manifestation of your psyche. The man isn’t real. His pain isn’t real. 

Until you see him.

His face is covered, his body adorned with black and secrecy, but you feel him. He feels the same as the man you found in your dreams all those years ago. That thought makes you feel sick. You believed it was a dream- that what you saw wasn’t real- but now, you know that it was.

``

Nikto felt you before he saw you. A perverted sense of safety melting in his mind, the same feeling he felt when the man he used to be was murdered. It felt safe. He knew it was you before he could deny the feeling, intrinsically he knew it was the girl that tried to pull him out- that tried to save him. 

His eyes immediately snap to you- he doesn’t need time to think if it’s you or not. He knows it is. 

You’re young- beautiful. You’re older, but it’s you. The same girl that saved him. Despite not being aware, your mind called for help. The day after you saw him, he was rescued- as much as he could be at that point. He knew it was you. You were his guardian angel. His reason for living. And now, knowing he wasn’t hallucinating you, he knows that you are meant for him. You are his angel, and he’ll spend the rest of his life showing you his gratitude. 

You see him. But, he felt you long before your sight caught up.

A/N: I want to make this a series. If anyone likes the premise, please let me know!

[nattalyy3163]

Nikto and Krueger!!! Yei!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I just realized I messed up Krueger's tattoo 💔 and I forgot the one on his stomach 😓

Me acabo de dar cuenta que me equivoqué en el tatuaje de Krueger 💔 además me faltó el de su abdomen 😧

[darlingpye]

Niktos Captive

७ Nikto x Reader Oneshot: explicit smut, non-con, rough, mean, painful, virginity loss. ୭

Nikto dug his knee into the bed causing it to dip slightly. Your breath, soft and warm against the cold air of the dimly lit room. So delicate.

 “Wake up, girl.” He whispered, leaning over and tenderly brushing a strand of hair over your ear.

Stirring slightly you furrowed your eyebrows. He stroked his hand over your arm then down against the curve in your hips until he reached your butt. 

“Wake up,” he cooed again, leaning back slightly to get a better view of your rear end. Your lace panties were exposed slightly under the nightie you had been found in. The shape of your folds could just be made out under the soft, white fabric. Blood rushed to Nikto's cock, it ached to be inside of you. 

Three days had passed since your capture. Just a civilian, easy prey. It was his men who had discovered you initially, in the now blown out ruin of your family home. Shoving you back and forth between each other as they argued over who would plunge into your virgin core first. If Nikto hadn’t broken it up in time, then it would have been all four of the brutes. 

“This one's mine.” He asserted. They scoffed and bickered at his claim, but overall there was nothing they could do, he was in command. He took you back to their makeshift barracks, his men lagging behind, dissatisfied with the fact they would be getting nothing tonight while Nikto would. Though it never came. Nikto promised he wouldn’t force you into anything but each day he became more persistent in you giving up your innocence for him.

He pressed a thumb between the mountains of your folds where a wet patch began to form through the lace. 

“You will have to let me take you at some point.” He mewed, growing harder in his pants.

You writhed your legs as if trying to dislodge the firm placement of his thumb. 

“You like, yeah?” He smirked, moving his thumb in a circular motion. The feeling became too much and with a sharp moan you jolted awake. Pulling your body away from him you pushed yourself against the wall on the far side of the bed. A pathetic “no” was all you could squeak.

Sighing, he looked up at the ceiling then back at you, his eyes the only thing visible on his covered face. 

“My men complain to me,” he started in his thick accent, “you’re free use, they say, since I’m not using you.” You twitched as he gripped your ankle, a subtle hint at the power he had over you. “I don’t want to cause arguments over you, they should get to–” he paused, trying to remember the phrase “--blow off steam.” 

The thought of them discussing you like this made you dizzy, you tried pulling your leg away from his grasp, however he held you still.

“I don’t think you understand, girl. My men, not so nice. Me, nice.”

His calm disposition made his empathy seem almost believable. Whimpering, you tried relaxing your body. Nikto dragged himself closer to you onto the bed as you let out soft cries. 

“Hush, hush. There, there.” His cock couldn't help but throb at the sight of your pathetic state.

You let him take your hand, dainty and small against his rough palm. He put it to the bulge growing in his cargo pants, letting you feel his hardness.

Bucking his hips just slightly, he breathed, “you do this to me.” 

Looking away, you hid your red face behind your hair. Embarrassment encompassed you like a cage. Nikto let go of your hand, the sound of a zipper followed.

“Look,” he said. 

When you didn’t move he pushed himself closer to you on his knees. You were now cornered against the wall you had retreated to for safety. 

“Look,” he repeated, sounding slightly more annoyed. 

Sighing at your lack of compliance, he took your hand again and used it like a fleshlight to grip his cock; he moaned while rubbing it up and down along his length. The heat and size of it making you squirm.  

He carried on for a minute then set you free.

“Come now,” his breath was heavy with desire, “time to taste.” With tenderness he stroked the hair out of your face, chuckling at the sight of your tightly shut eyes, “is not scary.”

You made no effort to move with your brain locked in a fawn response. 

He exhaled, “don’t make me get rough with you.” 

He waited a moment then clawed into your arm, dragging you forward. You opened your eyes in shock, choking on a cry. He gripped your hair, forcing you into a kneeling position directly below his heat.

“Lick my balls,” he barked.

You winced at the harshness in his order and the pain in the tug of your hair. In defeat you stuck your tongue out, letting him use it to his liking. “Ah, so you are a good girl.” You could tell he was smirking. 

All you could taste was the build up of sweat accumulated over days of stress and labour out in the field. Gripping his thick thighs you tried not to think about when he might have last washed himself. It didn’t matter, your mouth was cleaning him now.

Humiliation was the only feeling you had and he was getting off on it. It was driving him into a frenzy. 

“You like the taste of my balls, whore?” The slight comfort that was once in his voice had shifted. "You like cleaning the enemy with your mouth?"

He jerked himself off while high on the pleasure the wet warmth of your tongue gave him. Tears rolling down your face met the saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. 

All of a sudden he twisted your hair and shoved you down onto the bed with a growl in his throat. Falling onto your stomach, you craned your neck to look at him. Without hesitation he straddled your thighs, preventing your legs from moving and rubbed his sticky cock against one of your soft, round cheeks. 

Nikto huffed greedily, eager to mount you. He had been waiting so long to stuff you full. The suffering he had faced from being around your soft, delicious body, knowing you were ripe for a fucking had been brutal. Now it was time he brutalised you.

“Please,” you cried, “please sto–” Your words were cut short by a wail of pain as he spanked your butt with his large hand. 

“Shut the fuck up.” His accent had become heavier from annoyance. “I waited enough already.”

He pulled your panties to the side, fingering your folds, searching for your hole. 

“Mmm, so wet for me,” he chuckled. 

You squirmed, trying to grab at his hands from behind your back. He took no notice, gripping both your wrists in one hand and pressing them down into the curve of your spine. There was nothing you could do against his strength. He was wide and built like a ten tonne truck. Any effort you made to struggle was void. Such a weak thing.

The search for your hole continued, his middle finger rubbing in between your slick mountains until he found what he was looking for. He forced his finger into your heat slowly, relishing in your moans, your small legs trying to free themselves from under his weight. What a pathetic little toy. 

He tested your hole with his finger a few times, pulling it in and out. 

“Your little virgin hole is in trouble.” He laughed at the fear in your eyes. “No worries, no worries. I’ll make it fit.” 

Nikto unsheathed his finger from your hole. He pushed the head of his member against the tiny slit of your entrance then put his body weight to good use. A blessing to ruin such a sweet little hole.

“Plea—it hurts.” You sobbed as his tip stretched you open. Nikto knew himself this would be no easy task, but his ambition to break you in spurred him on. He pulled his tip out, wiping it down through your folds to soak it in your fluids. 

The hem of your panties pissed him off. He let go of your wrists, using both hands to tear apart your underwear. 

Pumped with adrenaline, he growled, shoving your head down into the mattress; ignoring your flailing attempts to escape. 

“Stupid fucking bitch.” He spat, wrapping his free arm under your stomach to pull your butt up towards him, still with his other arm resting hard onto your head. 

He pressed the tip of his cock back against your entrance, using more force than before. This bitch needs to know who she belongs to. 

Your pathetic moans of pain muffled into the mattress only spurred him on. Nikto used more of his weight to force his way in. You could feel yourself stretching around his girth. 

The pain was too much. You tried your best to plead with him, whimpering pitifully, "hurts, it hurts.” 

He ignored you, too focused on his plunder.

With every tiny thrust he made his way deeper. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing against his length, trying to push him out. The pressure building up inside of you became unbearable. Your legs quivered, becoming limp against his thighs where he held you in place.

Nikto lifted his head back with a grunt. “You love it, huh?”

A few more gentle thrust and he was balls deep. He stayed there for a moment, relishing over your trembling form. The pain of being pried open had turned you completely disabled, the only thing you could do was let him have you. Nikto had mounted you completely and conformed you to his demand. 

“Finally mine now,” he cuffawed. He rubbed a hand over your butt, admiring what he had turned you into. Scrunched up and lifeless, speared on his cock, your walls clenching around him over and over. He chuckled to himself, then initiated the slow motion of rocking back and forth.

You gasped at his movements. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no pleasure, just pure pain as though someone was gutting your insides. 

“Feels good, yeah?” Nikto grunted, speeding up slightly. You gritted your teeth, an exasperated groan filtering through your lips. 

Nikto couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He wanted you exhausted, folded up under his weight; completely ruined. 

After only just getting used to his cock inside of you, he pulls out. Gasping at the pain of his sudden movement, you flinch hard. He grabs your arm, manhandling you onto your back. 

You looked up at him, your wide eyes filled with terror. He glared back, hungry and unsatisfied. 

Nikto grappled at his cock, giving it a few tugs before angling it against your slit. He pushed into you hard, groaning at your entrance trying to resist him. He put his full weight on top of you, his heavy breathing hot against your ear. You choked on a cry as his persistence to shove himself inside of you became more ruthless. 

With a rough thrust he growled, breaking far into your core. The sound of your pitiful moan, mixed with the pleasure emitting from his groin coaxed him on. There was no time to wait for adjustments. He needed to satisfy himself while your walls were still tight with fear. 

Nikto pulled out a few inches, then thrust back in with all his weight. Your wails snuffed out by his pleasure filled groans. He was loud, huffing and panting like a dog in heat as he rutted into you. There was no shame in his actions, he was selfish, your body there solely to satisfy his needs. A way for his frustration of war to be taken away for a moment and put onto you. 

Nikto pounded into you without remorse, each thrust long and rough, deliberately designed to make you scream. He was making music with his cock. Every wail of pain gave him a sense of victory. There’s nothing like killing a man, besides fucking a girl into a coma. 

“Good girl.” He groaned, clutching at your breast through your nightie. “Who’s my little slut?” 

You felt exhausted, your cries of pain died down into pathetic whimpers. Pressure was building deep inside of you even more. Nikto could feel your walls contracting around his cock. She was made to be dicked down by me. 

“Answer me.” He grunted.

Nikto gripped his hand around your neck, not enough to choke you, just enough to be reminded he could snap it in half.

“Tell me you’re my little slut.” He pushed his thumb against your throat. 

“I’m—I'm." you stammered, whincing at his rhythmic, cruel pace. 

“You’re what?” He smirked under his mask, pleased at your inability to get your words out. It made him thrust harder, your walls clenching more and more until you let yourself go in a cry of overstimulation. You curled your toes, shaking as mess leaked from your abused hole.

Nikto laughed at your organism. Such a pathetic little thing. Refusal will always end in orgasm. 

Your finish didn’t slow him down, your hole ached for him to pull out, which only caused your walls to cinch. 

“My turn now.” He chuckled, pushing his weight onto you all the more, forcing you into a claustrophobic mating press. “Your pussy wants my cum.” 

Your eyes turned wide, panic filling your body.

“No, please," you cried.

“Ah, now you can speak?” He tutted, driving his cock into you, his instincts telling him he needs to be as deep as possible. He buried into your tunnel, carving it out ready for his load.

“I can’t get pregnant,” you tried your best to plead with him, “please don’t cum in me.” 

Your pleading only made him more hungry. He wanted to own you, to dominate you; to show you who you belong to. 

He panted, “tell me you’re my slut.”

You did as you were told, giving in to what he wanted. Obeying him might get you what you want. 

“I’m your slut,” you cried. “I’m your slut. I’m your slut.” You repeated it over and over, humiliating yourself. Anything was better than your insides being plastered in cum.

“You’re so good,” he praised. His pounding became sloppy and disorganised, his groans more needy. 

He huffed against your neck, desperate for release. With a few final slow thrusts, you thought he would pull out. He didn’t. He rammed back into you with a single forceful blow. You screamed as he hit the entrance to your cervix. Nikto grunted, filling you with his seed. 

“No!” You screamed, trying to pull away. You hands grasping at his biceps. He held you still, rocking into your slightly to milk himself dry. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He groaned. 

You lay still, quivering, whincing as Nikto pulled out of you. His cock limp and slick with both your fluids. He leaned back, admiring his work. 

Your hole, now brutalised and aching, began to leak his white seed. Nikto tutted, using his finger to stuff it back inside of you. “No wasting,”

You moaned and flinched a little at his touch, too weak and exhausted to do anything else. 

such a sweet little thing.

Nikto closed your legs for you and rolled you over to one side.

“You are very good for me,” he said, patting your butt which you took as praise. He stretched, revealing the row of abs under his shirt. Then he wiped his cock clean on the bed sheets next to you.

“Get some rest now, my pretty girl.” He said cheerfully, leaving the room and shutting the door behind himself.

७ apologies for any mistakes or errors!! <3 ୭