#ichormartyred

                “thank you for escorting me today, uncle. it was discouraging that no one else wanted to attend the theater, and i know that you are not the most enthralled by it. it was a most touching gesture.” eve disliked going just about anywhere without at least one of their family members, not to mention how dangerous that tended to be because of their status. she smiled at her uncle from across the carriage, fingernails digging into her cuticles. “i hope you enjoyed my company, even if you did not enjoy the reason for the outing itself.” 

                Pietro could remember the last time that they were together like this. Back when they were first orphaned, before they were separated. The candles weren’t such a comforting thing then, more a necessity. The food they’d eaten was comparable to scraps instead of whatever fancy meal that Clint had provided for them. And now, his sister was a woman...a gorgeous woman at that, which only aided in awakening an all-too familiar urge within him. Now that the drugs were out of his system, his addiction predisposed body craved a replacement. And what was more addictive than the sins of the flesh?                   Pietro’s gaze dropped to Wanda’s ample bosom, perpetually on display. He’d seen her in that show and knew just how delectable she could look. His hand quickly followed, fingertips smoothing over the skin with a featherlight touch. “I should not want you, sister, but...it is hard to forget the intimate knowledge I have of you already, and how desperately I crave to be inside you once more.” 

              for some reason elektra could not name, she was drawn to this werewolf. perhaps it was the knowledge that her father would disapprove of her interesting in him, perhaps it was simply the way that he spoke to her, like she was more than just her station, as an object to be used as desired. despite her better judgement, elektra crouched in order to unlock ransom’s shackles, dark eyes meeting his as she freed him. for the moment, at least. to treat him more humanely. “do your wrists feel better?” 

                “i need your help, selina,” they had agreed to go their separate ways, but wasn’t it the way of life that what you craved returned to you in one form or another? bruce felt rather pathetic, donned solely in a silk robe embroidered with his initials, soaked from the rain, so shaky he was practically on his knees on the stoop in front of selina’s apartment. she had said she had a thing about strays, hadn’t she? “someone broke into my cave while i was asleep. the manor is on fire. i’m lucky to be alive.” 

           mitchell had never been the best at admitting his feelings, and being turned only really intensified that inability. every one was that more acute, the rage, the hunger, the lust...the love. somewhere along the way of this foolhardy plan he’d hatched with george, mitchell had fallen in love with annie. lovesick to the point that he had slaughtered countless people just because he couldn’t face the overwhelming love that washed over him, especially once annie was dragged into limbo by the good speciest pastor fuck-face mctwat.             but by some guardian angel or a helluva leap of self control, mitchell managed to rescue annie, to be the knight in shining armor that she deserved and now he was sat across her at the breakfast table in their new home, shitty ex-hotel honolulu heights, unsure of how he could break the news to someone he considered one of his best friends that he’d gone and mucked it all up by catching feelings. after all, who exactly wanted a vampire for a paramour? “i didn’t bring you back from limbo just to make me breakfast, annie. you deserve a higher purpose, a life--er, afterlife. whatever.” 

           “hiya. i’m elle, your new scene partner,” elle’s fingernails dug into the fabric of the backpack strap weighing her shoulder down, inspecting the, quite frankly, adorable woman in front of her. faith seemed to be, unfortunately, just elle’s type, which never bode well in intimate circumstances and her...proclivities. it was strange, though. typically, all elle could focus on when meeting someone new was their throat, the thrum of their heartbeat, their smell. but for all intents and purposes, it appeared that faith wasn’t even alive. fascinating. “i’m sorta new to,” elle gestured vague with her hand. “this, so i trust you to lead to way. i don’t want to fuck up my first smut film.” 

                 bambi downed the rest of his drink, trying to gain the courage to continue what the papers were calling his ‘path of destruction’. the urge was there, it always was, thrumming beneath his skin like the blood that coursed through him, like the blood that splattered his features every time he killed. “so. you wanna get out of here or what?”