Nikto Can Feel That Something Inside You Is Hurt. As A Man Torn By The Devastation Of Violence, He Can

Nikto can feel that something inside you is hurt. As a man torn by the devastation of violence, he can sense it. Seeks out the wound like a bloodhound, your precious self sinking in on itself like a retreating tide. Making yourself smaller and smaller, till your presence is no bigger than a little mouse.

It crushes him.

The thought of someone being anything other than gentle with you boils his blood. He gets angsty and tense, feels the need to gather you up into his arms as if to shield you from shrapnel. He's felt pain and humiliation, and to think someone as soft and sweet as you suffering anything resembling that kind of treatment? It frustrates him.

Nikto will be gentle with you. They will be gentle with you. Your precious heart, made of cherry jam and sugar- so sweet, he'll lick the remains off his scarred thick fingers. Scarred lips tracing over your closed eyelids, rough fingertips seeping into your sides.

He catches you gazing solemnly at yourself in the bathroom mirror- standing in your underwear, getting ready to hop into the shower. Your dear face fallen and solemn, your eyes empty and tearful. As if you were somewhere miles away- somewhere he couldn't reach. The thought upset him.

"our love". He grunts into your neck with a soft appraise. A soft kiss- bite- lick. Fingertips graze your waist, and he seizes you there- as if catching you from falling, catching you from recoiling away, catching you before you run. A soft muttered comehere is uttered against your temple as he coaxes you to step upon his booted feet, lifting you a little as you timidly coil into him like a shelter. You're so close now- his chin nudging attentively against your forehead.

Fingertips drag softly up your body, up and up, to cradle over your heart. You fluster, skin prickling with warmth, but sink into him like quicksand.

"you are precious. You know this, yes?".

You blink. Lashes filled with tears, and a soft indistinguishable noise bordering on a whimper leaves your throat. At that he holds you tight, swallowing you up in his arms as if to hold you together.

You're not even sure what your breaking point was. A bad day, the thoughts and memories piling up, quickly drowning you like quicksand. Sinking lower and lower till you feel swallowed in isolation. You loathed how words could stick to you like that- how they tore you apart, making you feel too delicate for this world. Too delicate to live.

Nikto cradles your hands like eggshells, thick arms and shoulders swallowing you up like a shelter. His body heat and scent smothering you like a weighted blanket.

He's not delicate, little one. Let him be what catches you when you fall, the one who soaks up your tears with the hem of his sleeves. Let him know you're not alone in this world. You have him. All of him.