cookiepie111

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“i’m goin’ home to fuck my wife.”

and those were the last words john uttered before slamming the palm of his hand down against his desk and leaving. spoken the way most things he says are - gruff and final, with no room for argument - stunning the room into silence until the door shut hard behind him.

everyone just looked at each other, dumbstruck.

“should we wait for him to come back?”

“what the hell does that mean—”

“is that code for something?”

“wait, he’s married?”

price didn’t hear a word of it - by that point he was already halfway down the hall, boots pounding concrete with purpose, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, everything else dissolving into white-hot static behind his eyes.

he can take a lot of bullshit. does it daily. but fuckin’ hell - they wouldn’t stop. wouldn’t stop talking, hovering, circling him like crows. clipping questions at him in endless fucking rotations.

what now, captain? what’s next? what do we do about makarov? do we move now or wait for shepherd’s greenlight? have you seen the updated file? should we pull soap and gaz back? do we burn the safe house? double-tap the asset? what’s the protocol—

jesus fuckin’ christ.

it’d been too long. john’s mentally checked out and he knows it. doesn’t care. he didn’t want to be in that room. didn’t want to sit at that table. didn’t want to give another goddamn order with five pairs of bloodshot eyes looking at him like he’s meant to have all the answers and none of the doubt.

he needs a break. not a debrief. not another satellite feed. not another fucking decision.

he needs to go home and fuck his wife.

needs to put his hands on something solid, something that he doesn’t have to second guess. something that’d let him burn off all the static and pressure and noise building between his temples without asking anything much in return. his sanctuary where he can fall apart and come back clearer. reset his head before it spun off his shoulders.

so he peeled out of the parking lot before he’d even properly put the car in drive, and sent you one text:

‘take off anything you value and put away everything breakable. i’ll be home in 15.’

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Haven’t written for him in ages but was thinking about Price last night

Fully convinced that no matter how furious you may be with him after a fight, no matter how pissed you might be at him, this man will never accept sleeping on the couch

You can roll away from him all you like, try to give him the cold shoulder as you tug the sheets closer to you, ignore his kiss goodnight all you want, but Price isn’t sleeping anywhere but in bed with you

He’s away from home, from you, too often, he knows the risks of his career too well, has been forced to sleep apart from you too many times now

Doesn’t matter how minuscule or major the fight is, none of it matters to him, if he’s home, he’s sleeping in bed with you, no ifs ands or buts about it

By morning you’ll have rolled over anyhow, winding up pressed against his warm chest with morning breath fanning across his shoulder and limbs tangled between the blankets

So no, John Price is not a man who does well with being banished to the couch

But luckily for him, he’s got more than a few ways to earn his way back into your bed

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being dominant about consent

“you will tell me if something makes you uncomfortable.”

“can I touch you here, sweetheart?”

“would you like me to think for you for a bit, smart girl?”

“i will always take care of you. you can put your trust in me.”

“tell me your color, or i will stop.”

“tell me with words, or i will stop”

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boy's night

the next day

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love a man who gets the biggest boner as you’re sitting on his lap, rambling about your day or your interests or anything at all … and his smile is cocky as you stop mid sentence, eyes a little wide because how is he hard right now? and he thrusts his hips up a little to make it known — this is what you do to me

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something something going to kastovia on vacation (because despite the turbulent reputation of the government, it really is beautiful, with good food and a culture that is vibrant and fascinating) and finding yourself in a small restaurant on the evening of your first day.

it's quiet, dimly lit, with some of the best wine you've had in a good long time, and before your meal comes, one of the biggest men you have ever seen in your life sits himself down across the table from you, as casually as if he were invited.

he tells you in very good english that his name is nikolai, that it's obvious that you're a foreigner- not just by the way you're dressed, but also by the way you scrunch your eyebrows as you try to translate the menu in your head.

he tells you that out here it's not very safe for a woman to be traveling alone, let alone one so far from home, so he's going to do you a favor. he'll take you anywhere you like to go, and keep you safe under his protection. all you have to do is play the role of 'his girl'.

before you even have the chance to protest, the waiter comes with the food, looking far more anxious than the last time you'd seen him. his hands shake slightly as he puts the steaming plate down in front of you, his eyes darting over to your newfound company.

if nikolai notices the waiter's fear, he doesn't show it. instead, he makes a big show of thanking him by name for taking care of 'his girl', that he really appreciates it, and could he please bring a whiskey for the two of you?

it's clear by the immediate compliance and the sheen of sweat on the waiter's brow- nikolai is a man who's made a name for himself. people know who he is, and what's more, they treat him with a mixture of fear and respect. when the waiter comes back with the whiskeys, he informs you that your tab is on the house- after all, nikolai and this establishment have an agreement.

the obvious power play leaves you stunned, your glass untouched as you stare at the door the waiter quickly disappears through before the feeling of a large foot hooking behind your ankle wrenches your attention back to the stranger sat across from you.

"see? nobody will try to scam you or touch you. there is nowhere safer in kastovia than by my side." his eyes drag down your body. "or on my lap."

he swings a leg to the side, patting at his thigh with a broad hand, and it makes your thoughts crash together like bowling pins. on one hand, putting yourself in the hands of a man who clearly has made a name for himself here sounds like the worst possible idea. he could be mafia or worse- god knows where he'll actually take you. but in that same vein of thought, saying no to a man like him might be equally dangerous. sure, he's smiling now, but there's a reason pyotr turned white as a ghost. matter of fact, since nikolai arrived, it looks like the restaurant's completely emptied, save for the two of you.

it's clear- you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't. whoever nikolai is, he has as much power to make your life easy as he does to make it difficult.

the longer you sit there in silence, unsure of what to say, the sharper the grin on nikolai's face becomes.

"what do you say, sunshine? i'll take you anywhere you want to go, and all you have to do is grant me the liberties that men take with their women." he practically purrs, sliding the toe of his shoe up and down the back of your leg. "i promise, no tricks. i just want to show you everything this country has to offer, and have my hand on your ass the entire time."

the way he looks at you can only be described as hungry- like he's just waiting for your permission so he can jump across the table that separates you and devour you whole. on one hand, you're glad he's upfront about his intentions, but still. it's beyond jarring to have someone approach you out of nowhere and speak to you like this, especially since you're so far from anything familiar. you're already on unsteady footing, and this stranger who can't stop making tex avery wolf eyes at you isn't doing much to help.

"that's... a very kind offer, but that seems like a lot of trust to put in someone i don't know. thank you, though." you demure. you know it's a hail mary, an unlikely chance that he'll back off and leave you be- but for a moment, the way his expression falters a little, you almost let yourself believe he might.

nikolai leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and he casts an almost conspiratorial glance around the empty restaurant before his eyes lock onto yours.

"you see this? looks new, right? i've had it for ten years." he says, holding up his wrist. a very nice watch glitters in the low light of the restaurant, and you can see it looks pristine. there's no scuffs, no scratches, no signs of wear and tear- it really does look new.

"i take very good care of my things, sunshine." he says, voice low. "i knew the moment i looked over and saw you that i want to treat you as nicely as my watch. i want to take you out, show you off on my arm, and when i'm done for the day, i'll settle in at home to take you apart, lube you up, and put you back together again."

it's difficult to know what to say to this man who seemingly won't take no for an answer, especially since he seems to have sway over everyone here. slowly, nikolai reaches across the table, gently rapping his thick silver ring against the edge of your plate.

"go on, shy girl, eat your meal. you will need a lot of energy for tonight." nikolai says, leaning back against his seat with a wink, toe of his shoe rubbing up and down the back of your ankle as he watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass.

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Simon riley x black reader

This is something simon sends. Yes, he's flirting. Yes, he knows it's wired

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Happy new year everyone!!!

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oh my god. og my god. the symbolism of it all

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König x black reader

König likes the New Year celebrations, sparklers especially it's quite cute watching the light sparkle in his hands. He does have a habit of letting others burn too close to his skin... he's also made it a habit to hug you through the new year countdown. "Happy new year Liebling" is the first thing you hear

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A/N: a silly little drabble cuz I miss him.

Tags: König/Reader, fluff, unspecified historical setting, Princess!Reader, short n sweet 💞

Your Kingdom's courting rituals were... peculiar.

A comfortable seating area in the palace garden is set up for the royal ladies to meet their suitors with the presence of the servants, where tea and cakes are served to both she and her potential partner. She is then able to accept their proposal or not, but not with a verbal agreement.

Direct language, such as a "yes" or "no" is seen as crude, too common for royal women. As such, a woman would only accept a suitor's advances by offering a timid smile. Needless to say, many of the men seeking courtship attempt to game the system by simply telling amusing stories, jokes, or flustering the women into smiling, who are then bound by social convention into getting married.

And then there is you.

Notoriously stone faced and not phased by the humor or wit of men desperate to reach you for the position you hold as a princess. It has been years of "tea and cakes" and no man has broken through your armor. you were picky, stubbornly so to the chagrin of both your mother and the men trying to win your affection.

You prepared to face another such suitor today, the date has been set after he had sent a letter to your father. He had sent another letter, specifically to you, you fight back a shudder when you recall how cliche and corny it was, the mid grade poetry almost charming if it wasn't so... unsettling.

You sat in the garden, the table already prepared with small confections and a teapot. Your lady-in-waiting stands adjacent to the table, ready to inform the palace councilors of your choice once it is made. Your suitor enters the garden and you have to force your jaw shut.

He was tall, too tall. He looked completely out of place among the hydrangeas and hyacinths, his build more suited for battle and violence. His face was covered by a hood, only his eyes shining through, bright blue and unblinking. He stands stiffly, your keen eyes don't miss the way he tries to subtly wipe his palm on his jacket. He walks towards you, long, thick legs help him breach the distance in a few steps.

He was a few steps away from the chair when it happened.

"Your royal highness, a pleasure to m-!"

As he takes a step forward, his foot gets caught on a rock that had gone unnoticed by both those tending to the garden and the goliath asking your hand. His body jerks forward, blue eyes widening as his arms flail to catch himself. His abdomen lands heavily on the chair's seat, undoubtedly painful as it knocks the wind out of him. His large hand knocks the teapot off the table as he tries to rise, earning a yelp from you. A series of coughing groans emit from behind the now crooked hood.

"ugh...Aua..." he almost squeaks, his voice much higher than a man of his stature should possess.

'Aua...?'

you feel it rise from your stomach, a fluttering, strange feeling that works its way up your throat. You bite your lips as you try to force it down. But your body betrays you, the muscles in your cheeks twitching as a series of giggles bubble out of you. Transforming into a full on fit when you slap your hand over your mouth as tears fill your eyes. God, the image of his flailing arms is embedded into your mind. Your frame shakes as you double over, wiping tears off your eyes. Your face glows with warmth as your laughter settles, you can't help but grin, imagining how red he must be now that you

You look up to apologize, only when you notice that your lady-in-waiting has disappeared, running towards the castle, that you realize what just happened.

you stare back at him, the scary, clumsy man with the frumpled hood who will now be your husband in disbelief. He is still halfway on the ground, just as full of disbelief as you were. He finally raises, adjusting his hood so both his eyes are visible now. He takes your hand into his own leaning to press a clothed kiss to the back of it. You are too stunned to say anything.

"My lady, I am honored...you will not regret this"

let me know what you think! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[cookiepie111]

his wife died. her husband died. this is them flirting 1700s style. im shattered into pieces.

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Merry Christmas everyone!

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My stupid headcannon is that könig is half German half Austrian, and he switches teams to whoever pays more.

"German rates are 450!?" Rips off Austria patch.

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good girls with voice kinks deserve to be groped and finger fucked while being talked through it

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UGH I want that Austrian man so bad 😭

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Hello can we have more sad pathetic ex könig please 🙏🏾

He’s on his hands and knees, liebe. Please.

Let’s think about why you broke up with him, yes?

I think that once he gets close to you, he’s clingy. He’s not used to being close to someone in this way. And it can make him…. A little volatile at times, emotionally.

What I mean is that he straight up cries sometimes when you pull away to get some space. It’s not a manipulation tactic or anything, he just loves to be near you and it shocks his system whenever you want to be on your own, in any small way. And it just gets to be too much for you to deal with, maybe he snaps a little about it— accuses you of not really loving him, if you’re going to withhold affection like that. And you don’t appreciate that at all.

He didn’t think his little outburst through, of course. It was an impulsive thing. He regrets it almost immediately, and even more when you storm out on him. If he felt deprived before, he’s fucking destitute now.

König isn’t a boastful sort of man, but he does have his own pride, much as he seems to forget it when you’re around. So there is a period when you don’t hear from him— he’s a fucking colonel in a private military, he’s not going to beg just because some girl is giving him the cold shoulder.

Until he is. Because he forgot how cold the world seems without you next to him. He lasts a few weeks, maybe a month or two if he’s kept busy with work before the parting is unbearable to him.

It starts quite sensibly. He calls, apologizes (which is agonizing, he fucking hates calling people), and asks if you’ll give him another chance.

You’ll tell him you’ll think about it, but your tone seems to indicate that you’re not so keen on the idea.

He manages a few days of waiting before the gifts start. The man is desperate, liebe, bitte— if you’d only give him a chance, he could be so good to you. So much better. He knows what he did wrong! Doesn’t that time you two shared mean anything? Just let him prove it, let him prove what a good boy he can be—

They start tame. Flowers, teddy bears, German chocolate. Then they get a little more extravagant. Awkwardly so. Starting at 14 karat and only increasing.