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Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 1

First "official" part of Nikto x Reader fic set in the cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams once again staring our darling Sputnik. Makes a lot more sense if you read the prologue which can be found linked below.

A/N: Did I spend several hours watching Kevin Richardson videos with him hanging out with his hyenas while writing this? Yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. This also ended up a lot longer than I was expecting lmao.

Warnings: Depictions of Minor Medical Procedures.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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When working as a rural vet there’s a surprising amount of driving involved. Travelling from the clinic to farms and huge properties miles and miles away for in-person appointments and consultations can understandably take several hours out of your day. Most of the time you don’t even have working cell service to help guide you to your destination and you’re forced to either memorise the route beforehand or turn to your old reliable map.  

You’re new to the area, having decided to spend some time travelling across the US for the potential experience it could offer you. You’ve done plenty of work on stations in the north of Australia, helping jackaroos to manage any illness within their herds, always moving from place to place, and so Texas seemed like the perfect place to start your travels.  

While training, however, you had been given an offer to travel to South Africa to work with the numerous wildlife there both on reserves and in zoos. It was the best year of your life and ignited a passion for working with exotic animals.  

Travelling the US for work was an exciting opportunity to help rural communities with their livestock and to work with the numerous native species you’ve never had the chance to encounter in your everyday life. This little town was just another step on your travels and, so far, hadn’t really stood out to you more than any other small town.  

So, it isn’t out of place for you to be driving down a lengthy driveway through the woods and pulling up to a rundown old house. What is strange, is the huge creature sitting at the top of the porch.  

The hyena is massive. It’s powerfully built with pure muscle, and no doubt would be able to tear you to pieces if it chose to. It’s so distracting that for a long time you don’t even notice the huge man standing beside your car. He looks just as strong as the hyena sitting behind him and you’re not sure how you missed his approach.  

When the lady at the front desk informed you that there was a gentleman asking for a veterinarian with experience handling exotics, you were thinking perhaps a rare lizard, or an uncommon species of parrot. What you weren’t expecting was to see an adult hyena staring you down.  

You’re more than a little reluctant to leave the safety of the vehicle, but upon receiving a jerk of the head from the man, you cautiously exit the car. Not once do you take your eyes off the predator while you quickly grab your bag from the backseat.  

Having dealt with hyenas before, you know better than to show any kind of fear, forcing your shoulders down from your ears and starting to take calm, deep breaths. You offer your name to who you presume is the animal’s owner and hold out a hand for him to shake.  

The man, “Nikto,” as he grunts to you, takes your hand after a moment and gives it a firm shake. You’re used to farmers having a strong grip, so you simply offer the man a bright grin. “I take it this is the patient?” you ask, nodding your head toward the hyena in question.  

The man is clad head to toe in all-black clothing. Typical cowboy hat, black denim jeans, and a shirt that has a high collar and sleeves that reach all the way down to his wrists where they meet with a pair of leather gloves. All regular clothing, albeit a little dark for such a hot climate, but what really sets him apart is the dark neck gaiter covering most of his features.  

You would think it odd for him to be hiding his face on his own property, but you’ve heard that there’s several other ex-military men in the town that also prefer bandanas or masks to showing their bare faces. It looks intimidating, especially given just how huge the guy is, but at the end of the day he’s your client and it isn’t your place to judge.  

“да,” Nikto nods, “this is Sputnik.” He looks you up and down, before asking, “you are comfortable with her, yes?”  

“Uh, yeah, I’ve worked with hyenas before,” you confirm. That, unfortunately, doesn’t make it any easier or less nerve-wracking to be so close to an unrestrained predator. Normally, there’s at least a fence between you and any of the wildlife you’re treating, but hopefully the animal is somewhat friendly given it’s allowed to roam free.  

At your confirmation, he lets out a sharp whistle and snaps out a harsh, “КО МНЕ!” Causing the animal to leap to her feet and sprint across the grass to her owner’s side.  

You try not to jump when Sputnik runs directly toward you but manage to keep a handle on your reactions. Much to your relief, however, rather than tackling you to the floor and tearing your throat out, the hyena starts laughing excitedly and running circles around you. She’s clearly very curious, stopping every few seconds to try and sniff at you from a distance.  

You can imagine it would be an intimidating sight for anyone who has never encountered a hyena before, but she’s clearly just excited to meet someone new. “Is she normally this excited to meet new people?” you ask, unable to resist the smile that grows on your face as Sputnik starts to playfully nip at Nikto’s legs.  

The man huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “no.” 

You’re beginning to understand that Nikto is not one for making conversation.  

As Sputnik calms again, you watch her wander around the area. The issue becomes clear to you quite quickly in the form of a slight limp on one of her hind legs. She seems to otherwise be bright, alert and responsive, only the sore leg causing her problems.  

You run through the basic questions about the problem, how long it’s being going on, and how her behaviour has been recently. You quickly take notes on her previous medical history while keeping an eye on Sputnik. After taking down her information, you ask Nikto to bring her to one of the old sheds so you can begin the exam.  

She’s a beautiful hyena, and despite not having the behaviour of a domesticated dog, she can somewhat follow her owner’s commands. After seeing Nikto tapping the top of one of the tables, she hops up into a bench for you to more easily inspect her body.  

With Sputnik firmly restrained by her owner, you gently reach out for her hind paw. You softly palpate the area, taking note of the large amount of swelling, particularly in the area between two of her toes. After glancing up to ensure she isn’t getting too stressed, you pull apart the toes, spotting a nasty yellow lump of what is presumably infection.  

As you check over the area, you notice something black sticking out of the wound. With your trusty pair of tweezers you take hold of the object and begin to gently tease it out of the swollen mass. Sputnik’s leg twitches slightly, clearly not happy about someone touching her sore paw, but after a few soft words of encouragement she settles once again.  

Your grip on the object slips a few times, but eventually you’re able to pull it free. It’s a nasty thorn, a whole inch in length that was buried in the poor animal’s foot. Just removing it causes a flood of pus to begin squirting from the wound and you’re thankful for the medical gloves you’re wearing, because it is far from a pleasant smell.  

Sputnik whines, trying to pull her paw away again, but with your client still holding her head in place you can continue to express the rest of the fluid without causing her much more distress. With a small syringe of saline, you quickly flush out the remaining chunks of hardened infection until the liquid runs clear.  

It’s a small enough opening that she won’t need the wound packed or any stitches to keep it closed. Instead, you spray the area with a thick layer of Blu-Kote to prevent any further infection.  

“I'll need to give her a quick antibiotic injection to make sure it won’t come back, just make sure she’s restrained, okay?” You receive a grunt of acknowledgement, then provide the needed shot. Sputnik tries to turn and snap at you, but with Nikto in the way she ends up biting at thin air and growling in frustration.  

You gently rub at the hyena’s back with a loving coo, “what a brave girl, you did so well!” 

After being released she turns to regard you for a moment, before squealing happily and trying to lick at your face. It seems you’re already forgiven for your cruel transgressions against the poor girl. “Looks like this was the cause of the trouble,” you explain, briefly showing Nikto the old thorn you’d removed.  

Nikto turns his gaze to Sputnik, rolling his eyes before gently cuffing her around the back of the head. “Долбоеб,” he mutters, ignoring the way she starts to playfully bite at one of his gloved hands.  

You’re not entirely sure what he said, but no doubt it’s some sort of insult. Not that Sputnik seems to care, hopping down from the table and trotting around the barn as if the last ten minutes didn’t occur.  

“I gave her a strong antibiotic, but spotted hyenas are pretty notorious for their infections being resistant to treatment, so if she starts getting worse or isn’t improving then be sure to give me a call and we’ll look at if there’s anything we need to do,” you explain, keeping an eye on how Sputnik moves on her feet now. 

“Understood,” the man nods, standing ramrod straight with his arms crossed over his chest.  

Clearly this man still isn’t very interested in a conversation, given he has nothing further to add and almost seems to be pointedly ignoring you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but he’s certainly not the first... interesting character you’ve dealt with in your career and he won’t be the last. “Do you have any other questions about the treatment?” you ask.  

“нет,” he grunts, before quickly adding, “no.”  

You nod, offering the man a genuine smile, “well, I’m glad I could help out.” You remove your gloves and quickly start packing away the tools you’d been using, “the office will send through an invoice to your email, so you can pay online or head down to the clinic to pay in person.”  

He just nods, watching you silently as you finish up collecting your tools and placing them back away into your bag. His eyes seem to burn into you, his icy gaze piercing through your body and directly into your very soul. You’re not sure how comfortable you are having your innermost self so openly exposed to someone you’ve only just met, but quickly shake off the feeling.  

As soon as you’re finished packing, you pull out one of your personal cards, handing it to Nikto. He stares at the piece of cardboard for a long moment, and you quickly explain, “my card, it’s got my number on it in case you ever need help.” You can’t imagine how difficult it must be for him to find someone with genuine experience treating large predatory animals and you’re more than happy to offer as much of your expertise as he wants.  

Nikto awkwardly goes to reach for the card with one of his hands, only to pause midway and reach for it with the other one. He fleetingly glances over the card, then tucks it into one of his shirt pockets.  

While you make your way back to your car, Nikto calls Sputnik back over and ensures the animal walks at his heels. She doesn’t seem happy with this command, whining and laughing as she looks between her master and you. She very obviously wants to run after you and play but knows better than to ignore her owner.  

Sputnik sits next to Nikto as the man watches you quickly pack everything back into your car. She keeps looking between you and Nikto, as if silently begging him to allow her to go back to you for more attention, but he stands strong against her sad eyes. It’s cute, really, since it likely means that weaponized puppy dog eyes are an effective tool in getting the stoic man to crumble if she’s still attempting to use them against him.  

Before you hop into the car you give Sputnik a wave, laughing when she cries at you. “Bye, sweetheart!” you coo again, before offering her owner a wave and a smile.  

Looking into the rear-view mirror on your way back toward the main road, you can see both Nikto and Sputnik watching you leave. They’re an odd pair, but it’s been a while since you had the chance to work with such a beautiful animal and you can’t help looking forward to seeing both her and her strange human again sometime soon.  

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Cowboy AU

Prologue

Introduction to my fic set within the cowboy AU created by @ghouljams for our dear boy Nikto. This is just a quick starter piece to set the scene for the fic so to say. Also decided to include Sputnik since I don't see many fics including the precious baby!

A/N: Obligatory note that I do not condone the owning of dangerous or wild exotic animals as pets regardless of a country or state's laws. Exotic animals require a large amount of knowledge in their husbandry and specific requirements to ensure the highest standard of welfare is maintained. They should never be treated like domestic animals, they do not make good pets.

Warnings: Discussion of Serious Injury, Limb Amputation.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next Part

Nikto had been waiting for death to greet him throughout the entirety of his career. It was simply an inevitable fact of life both in the military and working as a mercenary for hire. People died constantly at his sides, and it quickly became a question of “when” and not “if” the final string would be cut and his body would fail him for the last time. 

There were days when he almost wished for the reaper to claim whatever remained of his empty heart. Torture was tolerable, an old friend at this point, but the months and years of recovery afterwards were what really felt like suffering.  

Alive, and yet completely useless. A fractured mind trapped within an equally ruined body.  

The only thing he could look forward to was getting back to work once his body was finally strong enough to pass medical approval. Tedious as the waiting game could be, he wasn’t stupid enough to push himself beyond his limits like some honour-hungry rookie. No, he waited and saved his strength for when it would one day be needed, for the days when nothing but sheer willpower can save his pitiful soul.  

And yet despite his many brushes with death, he had still yet to be taken by it, even when by all rights he should have been. Death yet remained a stranger.  

But why? Was his mind too corrupt and darkened for even the devil to want to touch? He had never believed in any God, but surely there was one looking down on him and mocking his pathetic existence. How else could he have survived an injury that should have killed him?  

He could remember little of the mission, only the sounds of people shouting orders, the potent scent of smoke and chemicals in the air, and pain. Certainly not the worst pain he’d experienced in his life, a blade to the gut still had the honour of that, but close to it. He was fortunate that the concussion he’d received had left him drifting in and out of unconsciousness for most of the trip back to base.  

His arm was fucked. According to the doctor and the reports from various other operators present on the mission, his elbow was bent in a way it definitely shouldn’t have been, and there was enough shrapnel in the remaining flesh that he might as well have lopped the whole thing off entirely.  

Which is exactly what the doctors ended up doing.  

It was their last resort, but with the complete lack of feeling in the limb coupled with an infection that just couldn’t be stamped out no matter how many antibiotics they pumped into his IV, it was necessary. They tried as hard as possible to save it, but necrosis had set in, and the safest course of action was to remove all damaged and dead tissue.  

He still wasn’t sure what would have been worse, being taken out by sepsis, or dealing with his current existence.  

And what a miserable existence it is.  

KorTac wanted to keep him on – surely, they couldn’t just let a wild beast like him roam free without a firm hand on his leash – but there was very little they could offer for him. Stay with the PMC and become a glorified guard dog? Train bratty little recruits? Sit behind a desk pushing papers nine to five? No, that would destroy what little grasp he still had on his sanity.  

That was how he ended up standing on the rundown porch of a house that could be described in a single word as dilapidated. It was cheap but came with enough land for him to not need to worry about nosy neighbours. He’s so far lacked the motivation to do anything to try and restore the building, but it has four walls and a roof, which is more than can be said for some of the “safe” houses he’s utilised over the years.  

He’d been lucky to discover the place at all with how small the town is. A passing comment from a fellow soldier about the region had caught his attention and, considering the impossibility of returning to Russia, he’d decided to look into it. America was a massive continent, and in the US he wouldn’t be questioned for owning weapons. Even better? This particular state allowed him to continue to keep Sputnik without suspicion.  

The old man who had been selling the house had been sympathetic after he’d played the whole “injured veteran” card and had even offered him a reduced price for the property. It still sickens him to think about how weak he must have looked in that moment, but needs must, and what he needed was a place to call home, even if only for a little while.  

One terrible accident and he’s reduced to begging for help like a stray dog wanting scraps.  

His irritation has the hand of his prosthetic curling gently into the fur of Sputnik’s pelt. All it can do is open and close around things to allow him some form of grip, but it works, and he supposes that’s all that matters. His girl doesn’t seem to care that it’s not a flesh and blood hand petting her, leaning into him regardless.  

She’s the centre of his current predicament and the reason he’s been forced to reach out for help. No amount of puppy dog eyes and wide grins sent his way are enough to save her from a trip to the vet. Or rather, a visit from one.  

He waits patiently as a large car rolls down the gravel road that leads to the small house from the property’s front gate. Sputnik whines as it draws closer, before beginning to laugh with nervous excitement. The moment the vehicle pulls to a stop she moves to investigate, but is quickly stopped with a barked, “МЕСТО!” command from Nikto.  

Sputnik huffs, unimpressed with not being allowed to greet their visitor, but settles for sitting at the top of the stairs while her master approaches.  

In all honesty, Nikto had been expecting a grizzled old man or woman with decades of experience under the belt when the receptionist had promised to send someone with knowledge of exotics. What he wasn’t expecting was... you.  

Please can we appreciate Gromsko? PLEASE?? I'm in love with that polish dude.

A common ground has been established 💪✨

bonus points for yall if you recognize the pose reference 👀🌸

Hiii I saw your post about Gromsko and I was wondering if you would want to write for him🤍 is it possible you could do a fluff fic about him. Like maybe some cuddles with him. No rush at all and if you don’t want to write it that’s totally okay💕 have a wonder day or night 🌙

Hello!! First of, I’m so sorry this took so long! And second of, thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like this! I made this a GN reader because you didn’t specify, so I hope that’s alright!

Welcome Home

Synopsis: He was always exhausted when he returned home, but feeling her warm embrace him around him made him want to stay up just a little longer.

Pairing: Gromsko x GN!Civilian!Reader - second-person pronouns used

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 948

General Masterlist | COD:MWII Masterlist

Had to make my own gif for this… that’s how underrated he is 😔🤚

He was tired, exhausted even. After weeks away on deployment, he wanted nothing more than to cocoon himself in his own bed – to feel the warmth of his soft duvet, to be enveloped by the floral scent of the laundry detergent, and to feel your soft fingertips against his skin once more. He was desperate to go back home, and when the sight of your small, shared home came into view, his heart began to race in his chest.  

The air was cold, and prickled on his skin when he got out of his car. His cheeks quickly turned a bright, pink colour and his nose began to feel numb as he made his way to the front door. His hands were slightly shaky when he pushed his key into the lock and twisted it, smiling at the satisfying click of the door unlocking.  

The warm air and smell of a home-cooked meal greeted him the moment he stepped foot inside his home, and he barely had time to put down his bag, let alone take off his shoes, before your excited figure rushed towards him. He welcomed you with open arms, eager to feel your warmth pressed against his as he nudged his nose against the side of your face. He shamelessly inhaled your scent, his shoulders relaxing and arms tightening around your form as he pressed a loving kiss against your cheek.  

God, he missed you.

Pulling away just enough to look at your face, he couldn’t help but grin once his eyes locked with yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.  

You nodded, eyes searching his face; he had a yellow bruise on his temple, and a faint cut above his lip. Even though there were many times when he returned looking worse than he did then, you couldn’t help but frown at the sight. “Are you?” you turned the question around.  

He breathed out a chuckle, “I’m fine,” he assured, pressing a quick kiss against your lips.  

“Would you like to go take a bath, the-”  

“Are you trying to say I stink?” his tone was light-hearted, and a toothy grin appeared on his face.

“Honestly?” you couldn’t help but laugh, “A little, yeah.”  

He feigned offence at your words, “Wow,” he shook his head at you, “Can’t believe you’d say that to me.”  

You sent him a look, rolling your eyes at his dramatics before speaking, “I was going to say the food isn’t done yet, so you might as well use this time to have a bath.” You placed your palms against his cheeks, and he practically melted into your touch, “And then you can go sleep... you look exhausted.”  

“Okay,” he wasn’t going to argue, only pressing another kiss to your lips before disappearing in the bathroom.  

The moment his sore muscles submerged under the hot water, he let out a sigh of relief. The warmth felt delicious against his body, and he could feel the knots in his neck begin to relax, the tension slowly leaving his tired and beat up body. He let his eyelids fall closed, and his lips parted slightly at the comfortableness he felt for the first time in what felt like months.  

The second he felt himself slipping, he shook himself back awake. If he was alone, he would have let himself fall asleep, but as relaxing as the hot water was, he would rather be with you. Pushing himself up, he moved to clean his body, slightly wincing whenever he pulled on his strained muscles.

When he made it to the kitchen, you were already waiting for him, a smile ever-present on your soft lips. He couldn’t help but mirror your expression as he happily sat down at the table. He only realised how truly starved he was when the food was placed in front of him, and he scarfed it down like an animal that hadn’t eaten in a month.  

You were happy to see him enjoy the food you made, but the way he inhaled it made you afraid the man was going to choke and die right in front of you. Pressing your hand against his shoulder, you urged him to slow down, “No-one’s going to take it from you,” you told him with a laugh.  

He snorted at your words, but in the end, he listened.  

It wasn’t long after he ate the food that he made his way to your shared bedroom, the exhaustion quickly catching up with him. Even when he tried to act as if he wasn’t tired – eager to spend more time with you – the purple circles under his eyes betrayed him.  

You followed him to the bedroom, and happily joined him under the covers when he asked, nay begged you to. It would be a lie to say you didn’t miss the way he held onto your form, pulling you impossibly close as if he needed to feel you beside him – needing to feel you to know that you were there, and that you were not leaving.  

You were laid on your back, and once your fingers drowned in his brown hair, he hid his face in your warm neck. His arm was securely wrapped around your torso, thumb drawing invisible circles on your skin after he pushed your shirt up just a little bit.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.  

You hummed happily, tilting your head to press a soft kiss against his forehead when you responded, “I love you, too.”  

He always slept best when he was next to you, your scent comforting him even in the state of unconsciousness.  

GROMSKO RANDOM HEADCANONS

As a polish person, for a polish character

-This is my first ever post, please do not hate. English is not my first language so exscuse my grammar

I think Gromsko would be very patriotic. And i mean REALLY. He would show signs of his nationality everywhere, like wearing a polish flag on his outfit, anywhere

He is Slavic, so of course he would have a strong slav accent. He would sometimes have toruble with pronoucing english verbs.

English is not. His. First. Language. He would often froget a word, or two so he'll just say them in polish or use translator

He swears. A LOT. Mostly in polish, but he'll swear in english too. Remember, that swears are just like comma to him. "Ah you know , kurwa he just fucked this up and kurwa he annoyed me a lot like kurwa how the fucking god could you be this kurwa fucking pierdoling annoying?"

Anger issues. HIGH ANGER ISSUES.

He is secretly a little shit and he would use his mother language to annoy everyone, mainly 141 boys. He would randomly say things like "Chrząszczyrzewoszycze Powiat łękołody" or "Grzegorzina Brzęczyszczykiewić". He knows that his mother language is hard and confusing.

He highly hates germans, austrians and russians. Get the fuck out with "Aww, konig x Gromsko🥰" NO. He hates everyone and everything that even mentions germans. He will make sure to make every german's / austrian's life harder.

As i said he's a little shit and he would cuss at someone while's speaking to 'em in polish :)

He has a great sense of humor

Bonus!

Relationships with 141 boiz + Konig

Ghost: He likes annoying ghost to his limits, but other than that they are good friends.

Soap & Gaz: they are the best buddies ever. They love to joke thoegether.

Price: neutral. Gromsko's afraid to say anything stupid around price, so he doesn't talk much

Alejandro: He likes him, and he especially loves annoying him with his mother language

Konig : enemies. He makes his life harder at every steo, and he cusses his nationality when around him.

I think it’s a crime that no one’s writing for my man Gromsko.

I might have to start writing for him myself…

horangi 🐯

german tourist routine

got inspired by this post: [x]

At night

Self aware au/ Wesker nsfw/ Gender neutral

Tw: Consensual Somnophilia/discussed kink

It’s been a couple of weeks since Wesker gained sentience. It’s been a couple of weeks since he started talking to you. It’s been a couple of nights since he’s started to come into your world now and again.

And this night was no different. He sat in your room, simply watching you breathe as you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blanket forming to your figure. His hand took hold on the blanket and slid it off your shoulder, it was bare. He slipped the blanket further down to reveal the rest of your body, also naked. Bare to him and him alone.

Eyes wild, he quickly shed his pants and boxers, flipping you on to your back. Straddling your stomach, his cock laid down in the middle of your chest. Hand spread over his cock, he moved his hips back and forth, the head hitting your chin, causing your mouth to open slightly. The sight only spurred Wesker on.

Oh how he wanted you to wake up with his dick in your mouth, using you like a fleshlight. But he’s a gentleman. Maybe he’ll save that for his birthday,

He slid further down to your hips, maneuvering your legs to be around his bare hips. He could probably live between your legs, nice and warm, with his dick deep inside you? A dream come true.

Rubbing his dick against your sex made him twitch and ache with desire and want. He finally slid inside of you, watching you whimper and shake as you accommodated to his size. Feeling you twitch and quiver around him was always euphoria to him, especially when he’s waking you up like this.

There was no gentle thrusts with him, one slam in. Slid out, slam back in. Harder and harder. The sound becoming wetter and wetter with every thrust. He groaned and moaned your name, sliding his hands up your body before they settled on either side of your head, leaning foreword.

The fast and heavy pace started, hips slamming into yours as he watched you moan and writhe awake underneath him. His dick reaching the depths of your sex. Your bleary eyes opened, moans never stopping as he slammed his hips against your’s.

Wesker smirked down at you, stray blonde hair strands plastered to his sweaty face.

“Good morning, my dove.” He managed out between his growls. His hand taking your’s as his beautiful orange eyes rolled back briefly.

With a kiss to your neck, he guided your hand down to your stomach, what you felt was a prominent bulge every time he thrusted in.

“You feel that, my dear?” He grunted, breath heavy, “Do you feel- ngh- do you feel me?”

All you could answer back to that was a groan and a mantra of his name. He chuckled and leaned back, his hand leaving your’s on your stomach, coming back to your hips. Bruising them he smirked down at you once again, the sun now higher up in the sky.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s about to feel even better.” He chuckled, he knew you couldn’t comprehend what he said, with your eyes rolling back, your head titling to the side, drool forming from your mouth.

He bent down and licked up the drool from the corner of your mouth before he kissed you deeply. Hands still on your hips, Wesker moved one to where you two were one. With little effort, a thin black tendril poked its way alongside his dick, causing you to gasp against his lips as it became thicker inside of you.

One tendril became two, two became three. Soon your body was taking in much more than just his cock. But you were oh so full of him…and he loved it. You were his, through and through. Especially as a tendril slinked up your body and into your mouth, toying with your tongue as he rammed you against your bed.

His thrusts became erratic and the pitch black tentacles thrusting in and out of you became sloppy. You tightened around his cock one last time, Wesker slamming his hips into your’s, spilling his cum as deep as he could go. Hands bruising your hips. A few more small thrusts before he stilled again…just to make sure your body accepted his seed.

With a low guttural groan, he slid out of you. You panting and sweaty, the tendrils slowly making their way out of your body. He pinned you against your bed with his body weight, his shirt still on and soaked in sweat, giving small kisses along your neck, whispering to you as you both calmed down.

“Good morning, my dear.” He whispered to you. Kissing your collarbone and down your chest. “I hope you don’t mind if I have breakfast right here…”

He smirked, hands going to your knees and lifting them up. He flashed you a smug look, and settled between your thighs, you were going to have a long morning.

I bet he doesn't even play hockey...

I will just post this here

(It's a little shitty,but I'm proud)

*bangs pots and pans together* asa brainrot! asa brainrot!

ever since i heard that version of ‘no children’ by the mountain goats that was recorded at a concert where the singer didn’t sing at all and it was the audience, instead, who sang the entire song together surprisingly well and coherently (i reblogged it here) it’s like.. i too have wanted to go to a mountain goats concert and experience something like that. imagine. imagine singing ‘i am drowning, there is no sign of land, you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand’ with hundreds of other people and your voices blending together into one sea. for a crowd to take those horrifically tragic lyrics and make it something communal, something connective. it would be something i’d always remember. oh to sing no children by the mountain goats in collective anon… doesn’t it sound transcendent! does anyone here get what i mean

potential breakup song by aly and aj > every single song the beatles have ever produced

there is not a single role chris pratt does that jack black couldn’t do better

I have no excuse for this except Lizzo is a godess and Griffin and Justin using ‘boy’ excessively is peak comedy.

me: i hate country music

shania twain: let’s go girls!

me:

wait. grusk baby born on karl marx’s birthday…. X Æ A-12 complete the mission