#kyumiwrites

Nikto would swallow his own hand, letting his blunt finger nails scrape against every vocal orifice until they were a sludge of bile and blood, only to finish it off with a firm yank of his tongue, before he ever admitted aloud that deep down he wanted love. But he did.

The problem was how he loved.

He didn't want something saccharine, he craved something that was toxic. Craved a love that slid into his body like venom. That would flow through his veins and nestle into his corpse. Not toxic in the common sense but in how the two would seep into each other, crave each other, with a want so fierce it burned. Charred. But never crumbled.

Like an invasion into one's own home; a love that wasn't meant to be there but belonged all the same.

And he found it; he found you.

A complement to his sickness and fuel to his flame. The look in your eye when you returned his love was like a mirror exposing his ill. He almost shivered when he saw your feelings reflect his own. Cold eyes that burned meeting warm eyes that chilled.

Like ouroboros; cyclical and unending. Eating and being eaten.

And that's exactly what love making felt like. A fight, a declaration, both sides looking to establish themself as the winner. To prove themselves more inlove than the other. He fucked into you like he was trying to engrain his very essence into you. He would carve a space for himself inside of you and fill it until you knew what it was like to feel whole. And you, you pulled him into yourself with no intent to let him go. Carving your sigils on his back with every flex of your lithe fingers. Weaving your magic with each whisper in his ear. Words of love shielding threats to make him forever a part of you. A familiar? A haunt? A father? He'll accept any fate you set for him.

Buuuuuuttttt...

Idk if it's a Caribbean thing or what but I was raised to keep panties seperate from clothing because undergarments should be hand washed separately.

So

Imagine, if you will, moving in with Nikto who sees this cute, heart shaped, basket weaved hamper in the bathroom. He asks about it and you tell him what it's for. The moment he registers what is in the hamper the rest of your explanation turns to static. And now suddenly it's goes missing every laundry day before he's deployed.

God, you are just so kind to him. Giving Nikto fodder for the rough nights away where all he has is his fist and his memory of you. He'll press the thin black cloth of your underwear against his nose, crushing it between his scarred fingers as he pumps his length to the scent of you. Faint and sweet and oh so intoxicating, the smell of home between your thighs. He could almost imagine you were riding his face. A rough tongue against the cotton fabric to get a hint of the taste of his favorite meal. Nikto's muscular body jolting before he bites down to hide the way he whimpers your name as he peaks.

He'll mourn the ones he covers in cum when he gets too worked up to think twice. But you'll have more waiting for him when he gets back, right?

You had a general idea of how one night stands went; you get in, you fuck, you get out. It wasn't really something you did often but when your neighbor who, in all honesty, has had your interest for a while asks... It was hard to keep your mouth from saying 'hell fucking yes'. Prior to this your interactions consisted of little more than pleasantries but you knew, from other neighbor's accounts, that he was more talkative with you than anyone else. And now you knew why.

Your neighbor did not disappoint. Nikto fucked the senses right out of your skull. Your clothes crumpled and discarded along with your inhibitions. You'd be feeling him for days; between your legs, in your mouth, in every bruise left on your skin and random twitch in your thigh. It was one hell of a good time but you knew how these things ended. Knew that once the breathing died down and the adrenaline left your senses it was time to put your clothes back on and skedaddle.

However Nikto finds every excuse for you to stay;

You shift to leave the bed but his arm casually wraps around you, pulling you back against him. You look back at him confused but his eyes are already closed and he only says one word. "Sleep."

The next morning you go to put on your clothes only to find they're nowhere in the room. Instead one of his shirts was left on the side of the bed you slept on. You tug it on and when you find him, he's doing laundry. "Hospitality. I clean them for you." He grunts. And so you end up chatting with him in the laundry room, helping out by seperating the clothes.

When that's all done you make one last trip to his room to double check you've left nothing behind. You announce your departure but Nikto stops you from in the kitchen, declaring he's already made breakfast for two. "Don't waste food." He says putting a plate in your hands. To his credit; it was a good hearty breakfast.

Another attempt to leave? He's rented a movie you mentioned, it has to be watched within 24 hours. "You wanted to see this, da. Come, we watch now?"

And another? "You've been wanting to learn how to bake, da? Let me teach you this recipe."

Another one? You can't leave without letting him show you one of his collections

Another? How about another movie?

And the final attempt? "It's too late to be out, better to just spend the night here." He says as if your home wasn't a hop, skip and a jump away from his.

im so curious about him

Honestly yea, I wanted to make it a little longer originally but was battling writer's block and didn't want to push myself too much.

Part 1

It took you a long time to realize your eyes were open and that you were, indeed, awake. There was nothing but black in your vision no matter where your eyes shifted but you were certain your lids were peeled back, pupils dilated in its attempt to take in any available light. There was a constant buzzing in the back of your head that only got worst as you tried to sit up. The sound creeping through your ears as if seeking to fill your skull, it shifted and morphed until you realized it was voices. So many of them. Soft whispers yet they felt so loud, so intrusive against your ears. Your own thoughts lost to theirs as they announced your awakening. Your hands balled against your ears in an attempt to block them out but it barely helped.

"Quiet... please." Your words were soft and pleading, as if instinct had you trying to mimic their tone. Trying to conform. "Please." You begged but they just went on and on, conversing with themselves until finally you could take no more. "QUIET!" you snapped, voice hoarse against your dry throat, sounding more like a petulant screech. You immediately regret it when the sudden silence filled the air. While the voices felt like too much, the quiet felt like too little. Unnatural almost. Ominous. You couldn't see anyone depart, nothing but the writhing black walls endlessly pulse and squirm, but you felt it. Like a crowd dispersing as an event comes to an end. It was only then that you remembered where you were, your memory settling uncomfortably where the voices once filled.

You were in hell.

You curled up, body going defensive as you tried to figure out where to go from here. You looked around, your eyes had adjusted somewhat, the room was black on black on black but at least you could made out the shape of the square room you were in and the weird geometry within. You were a top some rectangular platform, like a bed but devoid of sheets and covers. At least it was soft. You stretched out your legs, they were no longer littered with the cuts and scratches from earlier's fray. At least you think it was earlier, it could've been days since it all happened.

As your mind began to ponder you felt a change in the room. It began with the hairs at the back of your neck standing, an awakened prey instinct warning you of danger. Your eyes darting around in search of the threat but you're unable to pick up its location. Ears straining some unnamed muscle to zone in on any sound but nothing. No one was near. You stayed like that for a while, hyper vigilant in a way that was opposed to your usual carefree nature, but nobody was around.

Nobody.

And yet you didn't feel alone. Your lips parted to speak; a greeting? A warning? You weren't sure. All you could muster up was a quiet "um" before you shut them again. For a long time there was nothing but you and the invisible eyes around you. Discomfort quickly set in and after a moment of weighing your options, you tentatively got up and left the dark room.

Outside the whispers returned. Every now and then a voice would offhandedly acknowledge you. 'The human' or 'It moves', occasionally there would be a reference to food but you'd rather believe it had nothing to do with you.

The structure you roamed was nothing but a series of tunnels. You were unable to find any rooms aside from the one you had woken up in, just dead ends and more passages ways. You'd managed to lose the feeling of being watched but you knew deep down you were never alone down here. The only point of interest you found was the entrance. You'd almost missed it, no beams light could manage to permeate the gloom of the pit but looking up you could see the circular patch of yellow-ish white trying to make it's way through. You had no idea what your next action should be. Was this the game? To have humans mull about until they inevitably died of starvation? Was that how you wanted to go out? No. But looking up at the miles of ick leading towards your only means of escape, you felt helpless. Truly helpless. And that stirred anger inside you. You who always held your life in the palm of your hands. Who walked through the world like it could do nothing to you. You didn't want to die but you'd rather face the creature that would kill you than waste away over time.

You turned away from the entrance, eyes scanning the darkness. You couldn't see the thing that stalked you but you knew it was here. Had always been here, only an arms reach away. For a moment, common sense tried to reach you but your lips were faster.

"If you're gonna eat me, just do it."

Of all the things to say.

Your eyes could barely register the speed at which it's tendrils moved, wrapping around your limbs and pulling you towards a wall. You resisted the best you could but for naught. A hard, gross smack as your back is forced against it. You couldn't see them but you could feel tens of smaller tendrils latch onto you, pulling you further and further into the semipermeable surface. A frightening numbness overtook every inch of you encompassed by its form.

"No, no, no no no no. Wait! Stop! " You begged, tears stinging your eyes as fear becomes terror becomes desperation. Oh, how you hated the feeling of regret."Don't, please don't. I didn't-"

When the panic subsided and you opened your eyes, you realized you were no longer being pulled. A dark, all-too-amused chuckle filled your ears. The sound eerily close to your neck.

It didn't even try to hide the mocking tone. "But you said..." The creatures voice was masculine, low and accented, though you couldn't quite place it. Wouldn't know where to begin since you'd never been outside your village.

"I know what I said! I didn't mean it." You quickly interjected. Numb wasn't even the right word for how half your body felt. The parts of you that was absorbed into him felt... Lost. "Please, please let me go."

"Why would you say words you do not mean?" You weren't sure how to respond and in your silence, his tendrils began pulling again.

"I don't know! I-" you thought. You hate having to do that, having to find reasons for your actions as if they weren't performed at the roll of a mental die. As if your entire existence wasn't one impulsive decision after the next. "I was frustrated." You admitted.

"Hmm... " you could feel the wall vibrate as he thought. His viscous limbs lazily sliding over your body, in a way that felt a little too explorative, but at least he was no longer pulling you in. "I know this emotion."

You almost fell over when he released you. Feeling slowly returned as you shivered, your limbs desperately trying to reacquaint themselves. You turned back to look at him but there was nothing but a wall behind you. He was there though, you felt it.

"What is wro-" You wanted to have an attitude but this time your brain stopped you, pleading with you to be careful. To choose your words and tone properly. "I want to leave."

"That's unfortunate."

Vs

But my brain keeps thinking about him letting us put makeup on him 😮‍💨 running champagne lipstick over what's left of those soft, pale lips. The near translucent skin readily adapting the bloody red tint. He sat beneath you as you straddled him with one firm hand on his chin to keep him steady.

You didn't think it would end up like this. He'd helped you with your make-up since you'd gotten your nails done and was still getting use to their length.

"Thank you." You beamed up at him as he tilted your head to survey his work. In jest you said; "Do you want me to do yours next?"

There was quiet but then a soft 'yes' followed, the tone a strange mix of confusion and hesitance. You'd looked into his eyes for a long while, vulnerable and wary but he was serious. And so, here you were, putting lipstick on a man you adored. Your fingers trailing his bottom lip to remove the excess.

You weren't an expert with makeup, only ever doing minimal looks. But you could manage some eyeliner and eyeshadow, maybe blush. It was probably for the best since you didn't know if the products would irritate his skin.

He stayed still for the most part, say for the occasional flexing of his fingers on your hips. Those fingers digging into you for security when you asked him to close his eyes. It wasn't painful but it bordered on it. As if he was afraid that when he opened them, you would be gone. That you'd realise his flaws were too much, that there was someone out there with less baggage who could take care of you just as well if not better. Someday he would understand that a knot is tied at both ends; that you were as smitten with him as he was with you but for now you'd let his trembling fingers ground themself into your flesh.

And done.

I've sifted through so many ideas for this because I didn't wanna just pick a random eldritch creature from my box of horrors and slap Nikto's name on it. But also I don't feel like I have enough info about him(ironic, considering I write about him so much) to craft him into a creature. I watched some documentaries on eldritch horrors, dived into Russian cryptids and still drew blanks but here's what I managed

Rating: E for everyone who loves Nikto

Eldritch!Nikto x F!Reader

Word count: 1

Part 2

~Taking requests~

You weren't running from the consequences of your actions, more like briskly walking in the opposite directions. Looking forward all the way because backwards held the sounds of large dogs and angry men. Their boots cracking every twig and foliage along the way, voices interrupting the once peaceful ambiance of the woods. You could hardly tell whether the growling was from the hounds or the men. And really, who wouldn't want to run away from such a thing? Not run; walk. Quickly, very quickly. You were being smart, not cowardly.

No, never that.

You weren't cowardly when you snuck into that guardsman's post. You weren't cowardly when you tried to steal the gold he confiscated from the Miller's wife, the only woman that kept you fed while the streets were your home. You weren't cowardly when you defended yourself once he caught you. And you weren't cowardly when you accidentally bashed his head in with a clay pot. He should've worn a helmet, really. A guard should always have their helmet on! What was he thinking? Now look at you, running for your life and deluding yourself as if it would change the actions of the past.

Running.

You ran your mouth, ran your mind, but no matter how fast you moved, you couldn't outrun hunting dogs. Your fault, really, for trying to do so while wearing the long, ugly skirt you stole from someone's unattended clothesline. You should've maybe stolen the guard's old pants, you knew he had some because he mentioned wanting to give them to his nephew who was in combat training. Instead you dashed out the home the moment you realized he wasn't breathing, panicked by your first time taking a life. What were you thinking?

"I wasn't-" you spat a thick glob of blood out your mouth, it's red color staining the putrid black floor. Tears staining your vision and pain plaguing your mind. "I didn't mean to." You said it over and over again but it was little defense against men who'd lost a comrade because of you. A good man. A good man who stole from widows and bullied the elderly? It's weird how two people can look at the same person but see someone different. But that train of thought was halted by a kick to your stomach. And when one of the men took the final hit, the force of it sending you against the edge of the pit, you finally felt that feeling in your stomach. The one you hid away behind conversations with yourself. Locked away behind a naive expectation that things will either go your way or go away. Your first taste of true regret. Because you got a glimpse of where that attitude has lead you. That attitude that kept you going when your parents had left you. That attitude that kept you alive when your survival was in your own hands at an age where other children were being coddled and sung to. That attitude that protected you in the harsh village slum, now had you staring down into hell. 'The pit'; a giant hole defacing mother earth's perfect form. It's surface covered in black ichor, you couldn't tell whether the walls were moving or you'd been hit so hard your vision was thoroughly fucked. This was considered a punishment worse than death. Jokesters and troublemakers got a stern talking to. Thieves and crooks got jail time. Murders and adulterers got death. But the truly damned got the pit. The punishment didn't match the crime but judging by the hate filled glares of the men surrounding you, they didn't much care.

Or maybe they did care, they cared about you as much as you did yourself, these days.

That was a more comforting thought, maybe? Maybe not. Either way, thinking about it felt a whole lot better than thinking of the weightlessness you felt as you fell. Your vision quickly losing the greens and yellows of a gentle forest to being plunged into darkness. A darkness beyond description. One that surpassed what's seen when you close your eyes for the night. That surpassed the unconsciousness of sleep when dreams escaped you. A darkness that felt like death yet was somehow alive.

The walls were moving, they shifted uncomfortably as they felt the presence of another. Voices that whispered of uncertainty and conflict. Voices that yelled intruder and ones that yelled fodder. But one voice just hummed in curiosity at seeing the source of blood and spit and tears it tasted. He had consumed many of your kind but what little it had of you ignited interest rather than hunger. So it did not eat. Didn't wrap you in its tendrils and rip you apart into easily digestible pieces to be absorbed by its mass. The tendrils held you, confused by their many intentions and wants, before simply bringing you lower into the pit. To the very bottom that no other creature has ever seen. No other creature would ever be allowed near. Far too close to it's more vulnerable organs. But you wouldn't hurt it, would you? Wouldn't hurt them. Not with those blunt nails and teeth, not with those little limbs and severed ties to the natural order. You were weaker than it's weakest points yet you fought against his tendrils like you believed you could win. Struggled and resisted as if you had a fighting chance. 'Hush, little human.' It thought as it strangled you, only enough to render you unconscious. Give it enough time to build a prison home inside itself for you. Then build a form for himself more perceptible to your primitive eyes, he'd tried once before but the human face was so hard to mimic. There was so much anger inside you, more for yourself than for him. And Nikto couldn't understand it. There is only one 'you' inside that tiny, fleshy form. How can one be angry at their own/only self? That would be one of the first things he asked. He felt there was nothing a creature like you could teach him yet he had so much he wanted to ask regardless. Maybe once he had his answers he could finally consume you in peace. Maybe then the voices that called for him to spare you will quiet down. And the ones that screamed for him to bond with you will stop. Your body couldn't handle the things he desires... Could it?

Regardless, he has time. All the time in the world and beyond.

Silly human, getting yourself thrown down here, what were you thinking?