"am I Delusional Or Are You Just Too Cocky For Your Own Good?" He Teases Her In Return, And While He

the last thing she had been wanting when she stepped out for some air was some company and yet, the gods hadn't deemed her fit for such peace. the viscount had followed her after already having sent her a few looks throughout the evening, seemingly having wanted to chew her ear off. but the more time he spent around her, the more she becomes increasingly aware of how flirty he is being, how he seems to get closer to her, his fingers lingering on her arm and waist. when they stop near the entrance back into the ballroom once more, her eyes widen when he reaches out to stop her from going in, unaware of gwaine's presence as the viscount's hands move to grab her ass. "get your damn hands off me!"

Another event for the season, meant the two having to pretend to be a happy couple. Though at some point he had lost sight of the woman as they had ended up speaking and mingling with their own acquaintances and friends. So to overhear how the Viscount Clinton had followed after his wife made him see red and follow.

Gwaine and Selaena may not be the most functional or loving couple, but at the end of the day she was his wife. And he felt something for her, though he couldn't place it himself. She made him angry and defensive, but at the end of the day that was his wife. So for another man to assume that it would be okay to talk to her in such a manner, and to try and touch her as so had his blood boiling. And the man found himself at the door way and caught a glimpse of her face. @vulgcrzz

isabelle barely has time to react, sucking in a sharp breath muffled by his hand as she stills against the wall. half of her is so shocked by his closeness that she can’t register much else, unable to remember the last time she’d had another person’s body upon hers. not since before the world had turned to shit perhaps. she blinks twice, hearing the creaking a moment later and a familiar fear shocks up her spine. it’s not the first time fox has saved her ass and she doubts it’ll be the last, her breathing turning heavy under his palm even as a hand trails down towards the knife on her thigh. she flicks her gaze to the door to their left, reaching up with her free hand to remove his own from her mouth, holding onto his palm as she leads him towards the stairwell in the hopes of escape.

open to: f/m/nb.

plot: apocalypse setting (could be t.lou or de.ad ci.ty inspired, or we can make up our own world). your muse could be either a stranger or companion. bonus if your muse gets a lil flustered being pinned to a wall. age gap welcomed.

please read my rules beforehand + replies will be moved to a new post.

he's on them in an instant, almost from out of nowhere. a hand immediately flies up to cover their mouth before any sound could be made, while he uses the rest of his body to press them up against the nearest wall to prevent any movement that would otherwise give their positions away. his eyes, a cold and hard blue, remain intensely locked with theirs, silently ordering them to stop struggling and keep quiet. an agonizing few seconds pass before the faint creaking of floorboards follows the heavy shuffling of... something could be heard above their heads. and despite the multiple layers he has on, a chill makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. one wrong move, one single sound, and they could be swarmed in an instant.

things had gotten so intense between the so quickly, but he had known upon meeting her that she was a woman he needed in his life. whether that was simply as a friend, a lover, or something more, he knew that whatever that pull was between them was something he needed in his life. preferably as his, but he would settle for whatever he could get. "fuck, harriet." he kisses along her jaw, face finding it's place in her neck and continuing to press kisses there. it's too intense to look her in the eye, the lust already creeping over him and making him thrust into her hand with a bit more intensity. he squeezes her nipple again before groping her entire breast, rocking forward as her words cause his orgasm to start to build. "you're killing me. so fucking perfect for me." the idea of getting to cum on her again mixed with the way she tugs at his hair and kisses his neck has him groaning her name in pleasure, cum spilling out onto her belly and over her hand.

If this would make Tomas content at least for the duration of this trip Harriet didn't mind. Not to mention that above her own emotional feelings her body craved him too. For now this was enough. His touch, his kiss and especially his voice. "Good," she whispered against his mouth allowing him to continue kissing her as she stroked his cock. "You're okay I won't judge." She replied knowing at times some men were self conscious about that but in this scenario it didn't matter. As if she would stop if it took longer. While she felt herself getting wet right now she wasn't going to indulge in that feeling, right now it was all about him. "You know I don't mind you making a mess on me," she grinned lightly pulling his hair again to expose his neck before leaning down suck at his skin not minding if she left a mark behind. Even if she wasn't completely his yet, Tomas was hers already.

she’s fucked. she knew that without a shadow of a doubt that she would have been better off leaving him to die where she’d found him, especially when she recognized who he was. king valor, the number one enemy territory that her brother had been trying to conquer and absorb into his own kingdom. she knew that by extension, valor was supposed to be her enemy too, that she should have handed him over to her own king and ended the fighting. but at the sight of him bleeding and helpless outside her estate? well, it had her swearing her staff to secrecy and having her healer look over him. she’s been anxiously awaiting him waking, stood on the balcony when she hears his voice and she hesitates before she walks inside. what if he recognized her as his enemy’s sister? what if he killed her for his own gain? but she swallows, entering the room anyway and reassuring herself that he was hardly a threat in his condition. “you’ve been sleeping a long time. are you hungry?”

status -> open to all 21+ muses *we do not have to be mutuals to reply! supernatural muses welcome, too! + canons if applicable but will be selective*

setting -> my muse, inspired by arthur from camelot lore, is the king of a small realm && has been severely injured in battle. your muse, perhaps not realizing that he is the king, has taken on the task of nursing him back to health && saving his life. bonus points if your muse is on the enemy's side, or maybe does know who he is && has other intentions, entirely utp!!

my other opens - always accepting responses!

i should be dead. it was the first thought that floated through the throbbing agony of king valor's mind, before the full force of the pain hit his body. bones, broken. flesh, torn. he last remembered the devastating swing of a sword- a blurred face with lifeless eyes as they swung to claim his own... valor startled fully awake. groaning as he sat up, nearly passing back out again as color dazzled in fractals of his vision, bile rising in his throat as his body screamed protest to movement. maybe i am dead. he shook, trying to focus on his breathing, eyes wild as they took in unfamiliar surroundings. valor looked down, noticing his clothes were gone. the royal crest, the weapons, the armor... exposed, vulnerable, with bruises blooming over so many surfaces. " hello? " the king croaked, realizing how dry his throat was, how he was too weak to stand. to fight, to run. fear flooded his veins like ice. " am i alone here? "

she should feel far too exposed under the table like that, but instead all she feels is power. she knows that not a damn one of them could touch her while she was like this, couldn't make a move on her now that it was clear that she and elijah were the most dangerous people in this room. she sucks happily on his cock as she listens to the mens pleas for mercy, their agreement to his terms in return for it. she smirks around him, releasing his cock from her mouth as she climbs up his body, hands on his shoulder as she lines up his cock and sinks down on it with a quiet moan. "can't we just kill them, baby? it's so much more fun." she rocks her hips against his, looking over her shoulder to smirk at the rest of them.

elijah just let out a pleased hum as she slowly bobbed her head, winding his fingers into her dark locks as his gaze remained cold and impartial as he glanced at the other men around the table. as boring as business was, he couldn't deny the fact he was getting off on showing off how one of their most prized members was now so willing to get on her knees for him. it made listening to their pathetic offer of reconciliation slightly more bearable. "i hope you didn't think you could buy my forgiveness with money. to be frank i already have more than you could ever dream of offering me." elijah stated. "what i will accept is territory, your east side is blocking what would be a direct path for my suppliers to transport through. give me that, and i'll stop the counter attacks."

one hand tight in his own, the other clutched around her knife as they make their way down the stairs, her heartrate returning to normal with every stair they descend. the flush remains on her features though, more bothered than she'd like to be at his former closeness, the remnants of his body a whisper of a memory against her skin. she nods when they're in the clear, finally dropping his hand as the near the bottom floor of the building. "i'm fine. you just startled me, is all." she flicks her gaze around, making sure they were alone before she pushes the last door open, leading them into the street so they could head back to their shelter. "didn't realize you were waiting for an excuse to get close to me." she quips, smiling over her shoulder.

continued from here + @vulgcrz

there was no time to warn her; his body acting of its own accord with the need to protect by ensuring she keeps still and avoids many any noise. he'll apologize once they're safe, but until then, his hand remains over her mouth to stifle her breathing while he holds his own. just until the creaking of whatever creature passes over their heads. when she takes his hand, he doesn't think anything of it and clasps into it tightly as he follows after her towards the stairwell. once they've wound round and round down a few levels, fox helping her over the occasional piles of broken concrete, he finally speaks. "you alright?" his voice comes out soft and low and slightly muffled behind his mask.

Michiel Huisman as Gunnar Rebel Moon – Part One: A Child of Fire (2023)

while jobs like these were above her pay grade these days, there was something about doing them with bishop that left her pulse racing. the intrigue of pretending to be different people for the night while still always together, his arm around her waist and her hand on his chest to let everyone know they were each other's. she nods, eyes glinting as they move towards the high rollers table and she allows her mask of shallow trophy wife to settle in as they approach their target. a smirk takes her lips, turning her lips towards his ear. "gladly. if he goes for it after midnight though, you have to buy me a sybian." she settles a hand atop his shoulder as he places his bets, mouth curving at the familiar number. their hotel room and then the date of their anniversary years later, cementing the number as theirs. dark eyes settle across the table on viktor. she allows her smile to grow somewhat sly as she gazes at him, noticing the fact that the creeps eyes settled on every curve except her eyes. but that had been the plan, always was. let him assume that her husband was the only one of the two that was dangerous. she grins when bishop wins, bending down to press a kiss to her husband's cheek. "well done, mi amor. i told you i was your lucky charm." she says loud enough for the table to hear, noticing their target's eyes settling on her husband.

ten  years  of  this  dance ,   stolen  kisses  in  safe  houses,  her  heel  digging  into  his  calf  during  interrogations  —  and  still  she  could  make  his  pulse  stutter  like  a  faulty  detonator.   across  the  room,  viktor  shoved  away  from  the  table,  his  security  detail  a  trio  of  gorillas  in  ill-fitting  suits.  bishop’s  grip  tightened  imperceptibly  on  isabelle’s  waist.  “time  to  cash  in,”  he  murmured,  nodding  toward  the  high-limit  roulette  pit  where  cigarette  smoke  coiled  like  ghosts  above  emerald  felt.   “shall  we  wager?  if  he  takes  the  bait  before  midnight…  you  owe  me  that  thing  with  the  handcuffs.” sharp smirk, and a squeeze of her hip.  he slid into a vacant seat, stacking chips with deliberate slowness.  “no  more  bets.”  he  stacked  his  chips  with  the  precision  of  a  man  who’d  counted  cards  in  back-alley  parlors  since  he  could  shave.  black  29.  the  number  hummed  in  his  veins  —  same  as  the  hotel  room  where  they’d  first  fucked  during  a  storm  in  miami ,  rain  slashing  the  windows  as  she’d  dug  her  nails  into  the  scar  on  his  shoulder.  superstitious?  maybe.  but  survival  in  their  line  of  work  required  rituals  sharper  than  prayer. the  roulette  wheel  spun,  ivory  ball  clattering.  bishop  didn’t  watch  it.  he  watched  isabelle’s  throat  flutter  as  she  laughed  —  a  sound  like  breaking  crystal  —  and  the  way  viktor’s  piggish  eyes  tracked  the  sway  of  her  hips.  let  the  bastard  look.  let  him  salivate.  the  ball  clattered  to  a  stop.  “black  29.”  the  croupier  announced,  voice  flat  as  a  coroner’s.  a  ripple  went  through  the  crowd  —  tourists  clutching  pearls,  high  rollers  eyeing  bishop’s  growing  pile.  he  let  his  gaze  slide  to  viktor.  the  man  was  staring  now,  piggish  eyes  glinting  — that  always  undid  his  kind.  there  you  are.

with every passing moment between them her shock begins to fade and her anger takes the forefront, emerging deep within her at the knowledge that he had been alive all that time. years passed with him alive and not even bothering to send word of it. "around?" she scoffs, shaking her head. "i've not seen you for fifteen years and all you have to say for yourself is you were around?" her anger only flares when her eyes catch his, noting the same familiar look in his eyes that he used to use on her constantly. "you damn well better explain yourself to me. you owe me that much, charles." she'd been in love with him when he'd left, uncaring of the fact that he was going to be king one day if she could only steal one more kiss from him, one more lingering touch. she foolishly thought that one day they'd even marry, that she'd be deemed good enough for him. "and do not look at me like that. you don't have the right to."

she wasn't wrong, something terrible had happened to him, and in all technicality; he was dead. however, none of that could've prevented him from reaching out, apparently. but he was a beast, a monster that he still didn't quite understand and he'd always known he'd be damned all the more if he pulled her into the depths of depravity that his life had become. the man, who'd once been the heir to the throne, was now a monster whom needed blood to sustain him. he wasn't what she'd known, he wasn't what she could possibly fathom and if he cared about her, which he did, leaving her be was the best thing he could've done. still, he knows that the slap to his cheek is well deserved, the force enough to have his head flipping to the side. he laughs, breathless, the feeling of it far more enjoyable than he knows makes sense. his fingertips raise, gentle in stroking the cheek she'd inflicted the much needed pain against. "i've been...around," he admits then, looking back at her, with the same old look of adoration in his gaze. "hard to explain away not aging in a decade, don't you agree?"