In Many Ways The Two Of Hem Were So The Same. Both Of Them Had Been Forced Into This Marriage Without

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.

when she'd first lost the last of her family when the outbreak hit, she felt lost as to where to go next. she'd had no one left to protect anymore, no one to care about except herself. then she'd come across him. damn near nearly slit his throat when they first met, trust forming slowly until she no longer reached for her knife in his presence anymore. now, every word he says to her seems to warm her, small smile curving her mouth as dark eyes find his. "i know. just as i wouldn't let anything happen to you." her tone mirrors his, the teasing weighted by the sincerity that lies beneath. her eyes light up at the concept of safety and sleep, shoulder warm from where he'd touched her. "we can both spend the entire night in the bed for once. no disrupted sleep." the realization sets in that it'll be their first time really sharing that bed, one of them always up on watch while the other rested.

perhaps it was the fact that she was the first person he had come across in literal months, or maybe it was that, at certain angles, she reminded him of the wife he once had before the world fell apart. regardless, where most people would be met with his icy stare and standoffish disposition, she is met only with a look of reverence from him, something of a small smile sitting on his lips beneath his greying beard. "i wouldn't let anything happen to you." although he meant it teasingly, a bit of sincerity warms his tone. eyes drift to their shoulders, in which he lightly leans in to nudge hers. "speaking of which... now that we've got those generators up and running, we'll be able to lock ourselves in behind those blast doors." he waves his hand dismissively. "no more night watch. we might both be able to get a somewhat decent sleep for once."

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 . . . f . girlfriend, wife, co-worker, fwb, step sister/daughter, .

“just get the fucking job done.” he snapped into the phone before hanging up, letting out a long sigh. his kind of business never ceased, even when he’d rather be curled up in bed with her. turning towards her, he flashed her a smile before brushing her hair out of her face, leaning in to kiss her. “sorry, babe.” he rolled onto his knees in front of her, finally spreading her thighs as he keeps his phone in hand, back in the position they’d been in before he’d answered his phone. “now pull your panties aside for me. i wanna see that pretty little pussy.”

Mikey Madison in the Criterion Closet

when she had left for the markets that morning, selaena had expected a rather unexceptional day. she had most certainly been wrong about that. she had barely stepped away from the bakery, tarts packed away safely in the box clutched in her hands than blue eyes land on his frame. he hasn't changed since she last saw him fifteen years ago, kissing her goodnight and promising that he'd see her the next day. only that day had come and charles hadn't been there, instead a ghost on the night never to be seen again and leaving a gaping hole in her heart. yet here he stands. the box of pastries falls from her hands, thunking against the cobblestones as she merely stares at him in utter disbelief. "charles?"

open to: w / m / nb (30+ age gaps almost a necessity !).

potential connections: best friend, betrothed, ex, whatever fits.

plot: several years ago, prince charles ferdinand disappeared, leaving a mystery in his wake. to most, he's nothing but a ghost story, but your muse was a part of his life in some fashion. he hasn't seen them for a long time, actively avoiding them since being turned into a vampire.

sleep had evaded him for years, though he supposed it was no longer a requirement of his current species. charlie's mind was far too active, far too full of thoughts of the past, of what could've been - should've been. he'd disappeared for good with intention. there's no way anyone he knew could handle, nor deserved to handle, the state of a beast he'd become. he'd had to become nothing but smoke, everyone was better off for it. still, he'd attempted to keep an eye on them throughout the years, though he had always been mindful to not allow their eyes to find him - until now, apparently. lips purse, and if his heart still beat, it'd be practically ripping out of his chest. he smiles then, hopes he can play it off. it's been enough years, he should've changed somewhat. he hadn't. not one wrinkle pressed against fresh, porcelain skin. "good afternoon. charmed, i'm sure."

she merely watches her for a few moments as he strokes hiself, her own hand trailing down to skim over the head of his cock, teasing him. selaena leans down over him, one hand cupping his face as she kisses him, smiling against his lips when she pulls back again. it wasn't often that she was hired for jobs like these, a thrill running through her at the prospect of teaching the crown prince. "have you ever seen a naked woman before?" she questions, sitting up to straddle him, entirely bare for his gaze.

@indiestarter // Open Starter with Crown Prince Alastair of Lunaruz Connection: Your muse is the one to teach Alastair how to please his future wife. Based on Shawn Mendes’s “Teach Me How To Love” Open To: F/NB

Alastair lay naked on the lavish, elegant bed he was given upon being declared Crown Prince of Lunaruz, having been given a natural, hypoallergenic lubricant and being instructed to stroke his gradually growing erection. ‘Fuck,’ he thought, growing more and more around at the prospects of pleasing the courtesan. He’d follow her every word, and become a masterful lover so he could please his future wife in bed from the wedding night onward.

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 … maverick & isabelle ( @vicedmuses )

she looks like the cat that got the cream as she sits at their island table, cup of tea delicately placed in her hand as she waits for him to get home. there had been a time when she first met him where she'd been concerned about him being a cop, her own line of work hardly aligning with the usual ideals off a man in uniform. she'd married him when she realized just how alike they really were, both willing to bend the rules to suit them. her smile widens when she hears the door open, turning to face him. "did you get my gift, darling?" she hadn't been too thrilled when she'd stopped by his office for breakfast to find one of the stupid little interns flirting with her husband. it had only taken one call to have her dealt with, smugness settled in her chest at such a fact.

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?"

"she'll certainly never flirt with you again. not that i don't trust you, darling, i just don't like them thinking they can." she already knows what he's going to say in response, a quiet sigh pushing past her lips even as she smiles at him. "come on baby, it's been a decade since the incident. surely we can be more discreet by now." her brows furrow as his words truly sink in, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. "you know, you sounded a lot like our therapist with that 'working through my feelings' line." she teases gently, though while she knows the effect that she has on her husband, she knows how he feels about this. she's quiet for a moment, eyes lighting up with mischief a moment later. "what if we went for a quickie in the car and then came back? the windows are tinted, no one would see."

"She thinks she's untouchable I guess but I know you'll prove her wrong." Ross smirked knowing no one did revenge better than his wife. Before she even says a word he knows what she wants based on the way she's touching the back of his neck. Something that always turned him on yet considering their past he had a firm rule of not fucking at these kinds of events. "Sweetheart," he soothed with a firm tone as his hand rested on her waist. "I told you that we aren't doing that again. So we can either leave early or you can find a different way to work through these feelings besides sexually." He replied knowing she wouldn't like the answer yet he wasn't going to give into her demands in this situation.