Wahoooo

-

Despite the cloudy skies and flurries of snow, a soft reflection of the frost outside streams a bit of light into the office as you pull back the blinds. The sidewalks and alleys are empty- nary a car on the street. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you were in Silent Hill rather than Gotham City. There’s nothing but grey, blistery, snowy solitude. This was good. With nobody around, this was sure to be an easy buy.

“Something on your mind?” He pipes up.

Snapping the shade back into place, you look back to see that he’s found the stash. In a small, plastic bag, the pills are on the desk. “No, I’m all good.”

He clicks his tongue with a wry grin. “If it’s the cops you’re worried about, don’t be. There’s gonna be a huge storm tonight- I doubt the pigs would leave the barn; freezing their butts off to go after a low-life like you.”

“Low-life? Look who’s talking,” You glare, making your way over to the desk. “Scarecrow.”

As your hand goes to reach for the pills, his thin fingers come into view, sliding the bag back.

“You fuck. I already payed.” Your eyes stare daggers into his clinical gaze. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you brace yourself for whatever psychological games he decides to play with you now.

“Look,” he slides the bag off the desk and in between his slender fingers, as if dangling it just out of reach. “I’m not dumb enough to mess with a tweaker and their drugs, but humor me for a moment, won’t you?”

“You have five seconds to give me my-”

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” He’s completely unfazed by the threat, pulling out a DVD copy of the film.

“What?” Any aggression from within you begins to dissipate, turning into utter bewilderment.

“A Christmas Carol,” he repeats. “Y’know, a grizzled, selfish old miser who is haunted by three spirits who represent the ever-changing stages of his life? How each journey into his past, present, and future make him reevaluate the way he lives his life and treats others and learns the true meaning of Christmas?”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

“Well forget it.” He slides the DVD into the video player, watching it click into place. “Sure, it’s a classic holiday tale, but it’s so much more than that.” He springs up, flicking off the lights. “It’s a horror story.”

The blue glow from the old television illuminated the office as it came to life with some static and a startling pop. You began to wonder how old that damn thing was until you found yourself standing alone with Crane on the empty couch. Although the room was dark, you could feel Dr. Crane’s piercing gaze beckoning you over. Hesitantly, you sit on the other end of the couch.

As the film begins, the Disney logo catches your eye. “Horror story my ass…” you mutter.

“What was that?” He quips, wondering how he heard you.

“Horror story my ASS.” You annunciate clearly. Shifting in your seat you turn to him. “A Disney movie? You refuse to give me my shit for this?” You laugh bitterly.

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly. “You really don’t have any idea of what we’re about to get into, do you?”

“What the fuck on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

“Scoff all you want,” he grins, turning down the volume. “This version of the film truly captures the true essence of fear better than its other iterations. Narratively speaking, the film remains pretty faithful to the original novella by Charles Dickens, which obviously is something to be expected from any adaptation, but it’s especially crucial here to really showcase the specific fears of the time.”

“Well yeah it might be accurate, but doesn’t everyone collectively agree that this one sucks?” You reply. “I mean, look at the creepy ass mocap, it’s literally the same shit as the Polar Express-”

“Oh right!” He shifts excitedly. “The visuals only contribute to terror! Sure, motion capture gets a bad rap because it’s a little off-putting, but it really works in a film like this- perfectly seasoned with that uncanny valley effect. It really adds to the flavor of dread.”

“Whatever man,” you scoff. “It’s just some story about an old man.” You turn your attention back to the movie, straining to listen to the low volume despite Jonathan’s chatter.

He clears his throat. “An old man- who you may find, has far similar fears to you than you may think.”

You cock your head to the side, turning to him. “You callin’ me an old man?”

The sound of his laughter fills your ears. “Oh no, not at all.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “It’s just so painfully human.”

“Human?”

“Scrooge isn’t taught redemption, he’s simply being driven by fear.” He leans back on the couch. “The ghosts don’t just visit him to bring awareness to his cold heart, but they dismantle him- tearing away layers and layers of his psyche until there’s nothing left but his raw fear. It’s fascinating, really. How the fear completely reshapes his attitude in the waking world.”

You find yourself leaning back as he moves his way closer to you, only to be caught by the end of the couch.

“And you wanna know what the real scary thing is? It’s the fact that we could all end up just like him- Alone. Forgotten. Unloved. It’s a common fear that drives us all, isn’t it? The fear of abandonment? Being left behind.” You can feel the heat radiating from his body with every word spoken.

You blink, at a loss for words. It’s starting to feel all too real. “I,” you stutter. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

“Oh, but it has everything to do with you.” His voice is low, as you feel yourself be closed in. “That invisibility,” he lets the words linger on his tongue. “Something that most people prefer to ignore, but it’s still there isn’t it? Lurking.”

His eyes stare within the confines of your soul. You look away from his prying eyes, but you can still feel his gaze on you like a searchlight.

You can feel your chin between his fingers as he gently forces you to look at him. “I think this little arrangement we have- these little meetings, it’s more than just a drug deal isn’t it? I think you want more than just drugs.”

Suddenly the office didn’t feel so chilly anymore. The closeness of his breath on the shell of your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s right. You do want more.

Your hands slide up his long arms, feeling the fabric of his shirt beneath your palms. Resting your fingers on his shoulders, you pull him closer. You speak up, words barely a whisper. “So, you gonna give me my drugs or not?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.” A knowing grin graces his silhouetted frame.

Pulling the bag from his pocket, he opens the seal, taking out a small, ghost-shaped tablet and places it on his tongue. At first you were confused as to why he was breaking into your stash until you felt the harsh press of his lips against yours.

Pulling him closer into you, you allow your hands to slip under his shirt, feeling his flesh on your fingertips. In turn, he runs his hand through your hair while the other snakes its way down your spine, cradling the small of your back. His grip is firm, fingers digging into you, showing no sign of letting go.

Quickly, he nips at your lower lip. As you whine at sting, you fall victim to his plan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. You can feel him transfer the tablet to you, swallowing it down with his guidance. In retaliation, you sink your nails into the skin of his back, feeling him hiss into the kiss as he pulls away with a chuckle.

Breathless from the kiss, he wraps an arm around you. “Maybe this will help you understand Scrooge’s fear.” He grabs the remote, adjusting the film’s volume back to normal.

-

“Blow A-Train.”

At first, there was disbelief. Looking around the room, the Deep turned to A-Train, confused and surprised, who looked back at him in equal parts confusion.

“What?” He asked.

The darting eyes within the conference room soon locked their gaze on Homelander as his next words left his mouth.

“I’m not kidding,” Homelander said. His tone was cold- Unwavering. “Go over there, pull out A-Train’s cock, and blow him.”

The next actions were perfectly clear to the Deep. Slowly, he got up. The sound of the chair shifting as he rose broke the uncomfortably, deafening silence that had swept over the conference room. He soon stood face to face with A-Train, who was told to get up from his seat.

The two men exchanged looks. The Deep could feel A-Train’s gaze of disgust drilling into his skull. The Deep hoped A-Train could understand the sympathy of this situation, but as he lowered himself down to his knees, and as his big, blue eyes locked onto his, A-Train could see nothing but coward.

“Sex is just a spectrum, right, bro?”

A-Train rolled his eyes, glancing over to Homelander, hoping- praying, that his outlandish order would just be a joke. After seeing his gaze remain fixed in a cold, stoic stare, A-Train could feel could the sting of a mental slap to the face. When would he have ever known Homelander to make a joke like that? After Starlight- Annie, had left, and Maeve turned out to be a traitor, shit had completely hit the fan for the ones who stayed. Homelander was losing leverage left and right. He had to make an example of the ones who were scared enough to remain.

The sound of A-Train’s belt falling to the floor broke his train of thought as well as the uncomfortable silence that filled the room. A-Train bit the inside of his cheek, feeling Deep’s gloved hands shakily pull out his cock from within the blue spandex. The crushing weight of exposure almost felt painful upon realizing every eye in the room was on them, about to watch a humiliating and shameless display of their spinelessness.

“You put your mouth around my cock, and you’re a fucking dead man,” A-Train whispers almost inaudibly through gritted teeth. At first, he thought the threat was a little too quiet. The others in the room hadn’t caught it, and The Deep seemed to pause for a split second, until Homelander’s voice abruptly broke the uncomfortable silence, making everyone jump.

“You’re not the one calling the shots here, A-Train,” Homelander piped up loudly. He turned his attention to the Deep. “Deep,” Homelander continues, his voice lowering back to that clinical tone, “Blow him, or I turn that pathetic creature you have hiding in your closet, into calamari. How about that?”

With a nervous chuckle Deep put a hand behind his head. “Heh, that would just be ridiculous, sir, I mean, I don’t even have a-” The Deep’s poor attempt at diffusing the situation with laughter proved fruitless as Homelander maintained that same cold stare. A-Train’s secondhand- embarrassment only worsened.

The Deep’s blue eyes looked up at A-Train with sympathy, who refused to make eye contact with him. Nervously, the Deep’s eyes fell on what was in front of him. A-Train’s cock was unsurprisingly flaccid. His cock seemed to be a bit above average in length, but was way girthier. It was intimidating, but if Homelander told him to blow it, especially at the threat of his dear, Ambrosius, he could manage it.

Running a gloved thumb over the head of A-Train’s cock, Deep desperately tried keeping his composure.

Ok, Kevin. You’ve got another man’s dick in your hand and the entire room is watching you. Don’t fuck this up. How do I not fuck it up? Oh god. What would a girl do? I don’t know what a girl would do, I’m not a girl. Shit, I can’t even use a frame of reference, I can’t even remember the last time I had a half-decent blowjob. From a human at least. Cassandra sucked, and I’m no octopus. I mean, a dick is kinda like a tentacle, right? What am I even supposed to do here? God, is this what Starlight felt like? Shit, this does not feel good.

While the Deep was reeling with his inner monologue, the rest of the room just saw him spaced out for several minutes, absentmindedly stroking the tip of A-Train’s cock, holding in his groans at the rhythmless stimulation, sending a shudder of desperately needed arousal in an otherwise, unarousing situation. This was agony.

I mean, he’s hard now, which is good? At least that’ll give me something to work with; some structure. At least, I assume it’ll be easier to work with. Aw shit, I thought about the logistics of sucking a cock. Does that make me gay-

“Goddamn it, man, this is taking too long.” A-Train grunted. The Deep could feel A-Train’s hands pull his head forward onto his stiffened cock, taking the entire length into his mouth. As the Deep choked out a cough at the sudden intrusion, A-Train began to thrust into his mouth at a steady pace.

If not for his gills, Deep was sure that he would’ve suffocated, feeling his throat constricting around A-Train’s cock. Deep’s hands began gripping onto A-Train’s leg’s for balance, feeling himself gagging as A-Train’s pace quickened. Deep let out a whimper that almost wasn’t heard through the gagging.

“Quit being such a baby, serves you right for being a pathetic punk ass.” A-Train chastised, continuing to fuck into Deep’s mouth.

The Deep soon felt his lips touch the base of A-Train’s cock. At that same moment, he could feel the tip of it reach the back of his throat, pumping violently. The ferocity of A-Train’s thrusts along with the loud gagging and blood roaring through his ears made Deep feel like he was sucking off a jackhammer.

Deep unexpectedly felt a hand on top of his, squeezing tight. “I don’t enjoy this as much as you, but- fuck, I j-just, wanna get this over with, as, as quick as possible.” A-Train gritted out, nearing his climax.

It was at that moment, Homelander cleared his throat. “Deep, get up.”

Like an obedient little dog, Deep pulled away from A-Train’s cock, coughing up a mixture of saliva and pre-cum as he wobbly got to his feet. A-Train shot Homelander a confused, irritated glare.

“I believe I said ‘Deep, blow A-Train,’” Homelander began. “Not, ‘A-Train, throat-fuck Deep, like a depraved animal.’”

The hot rush of equal parts shame and anger swept down A-Train’s spine. His face began to flush with embarrassment, trying and failing to conceal it. It was even worse when he glanced over to the Deep, with A-Train’s pre-cum dripping down his shit-eating grin.

“You didn’t do what I told you to, so as punishment, you don’t get to cum.”

A-Train stared at Homelander with disbelief. Homelander’s cold stare drilled a hole into the back of his head worse than his lasers ever could. The longer A-Train looked at him, mouth agape with words failing to come out, he could see Homelander’s lips curve ever so slightly into a sadistic grin.

-

It wasn’t often that a heist went awry for Selina, but this time was sure to take the cake. Triggered security systems and broken glass were the least of her problems, now having to face the consequences of working with Edward Nygma. Mentally, Selina beat herself up for knowing better than to work with a conniving snake like him, but that didn’t matter now. The loud blaring of sirens could be heard in the distance as she lept from rooftop to rooftop with ease. Continuing to escape deeper into the night, Selina knew exactly where to run to.

Far enough away from the scene of the crime, Selina found herself perched on top of the overgrown warehouse. Thick branches and moss covered the outside, making the building look abandoned. Nobody would even think that a place such as this would be an ideal hideout, but for Selina, it was a refuge. A sanctuary. The home of an old friend.

Climbing through the window, Selina’s entrance was almost anticipated as Ivy watched her come in expectantly.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Ivy grinned.

“Nice to see you too, Pam.” Selina leaned against the wall, out of breath. “How did you…?”

“Word gets around fast,” Ivy shrugged. “Plus, all the cop cars woke me up.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I was up anyway.” Ivy made her way over to Selina. Pulling up her mask, Ivy inspected the small cuts and bits of glass occupying Selina’s face and body. Her face was streaked with blood and sweat. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? You look like hell.”

“Yeah,” Selina snickered. “I just got back.”

———

Selina was seated on top of the table. Her tight, black suit was cast aside, leaving her in an undershirt, her underwear, and several small bandages. Around her was a bowl of discarded glass and a small trash can of bloodied gauze.

Ivy made her way in between Selina’s legs, standing in front of her. She applied the disinfectant carefully. Selina winced at the sudden sting, but Ivy took a gentle hand in the application. The gaze in Ivy’s eyes was soft. It was easy for Selina to get lost in them.

“You’re staring again.” Ivy spoke up faintly.

“Am I? Purred Selina. “You’re so close to me, must be your pheromones.” She giggled. “Or blood loss.”

Ivy chuckled playfully. “First of all, my little flower,” she pushed a bit of Selina’s short hair off her face. “You haven’t lost nearly enough blood for delirium.” Ivy set down the disinfect. Her arms soothed their way up to Selina’s shoulders. “As for the pheromones?” Ivy’s hands cradled the area between Selina’s jaw and neck. “They only amplify what’s already there.”

Selina glanced down and back up again, soft laughter escaping her lips. “Whatever you say, Dr. Isley.”

There was a pause from Ivy. It was as if a switch went off. Cocking her head in consideration, she asked Selina to repeat what she had said.

“Whatever you say… Dr. Isley.” Selina repeated.

Ivy’s green complexion flushed. Selina’s forwardness was always welcome in their interactions. Having Selina in her current position would more often than not signal that they were going to have sex on a night like this. It seemed to be going that way thus far. It was the use of Ivy’s professional title being used in such a flirtatious manner that stopped her dead in her tracks. It fired her up, far more than usual, and Selina could see it from a mile away.

“Y’know…” Selina swiftly wrapped a leg around Ivy’s body, pulling her in closer. “I still feel a little hurt from the glass, I think I might need a more thorough examination, what do you think… Doctor?”

Their faces are just inches apart. Ivy scans Selina’s face. Selina’s dark, pleading eyes sparkled with mischief. Ivy always enjoyed the little dynamic they had. Usually she would be the one to initiate anything. A few whispers of filthy nothings, controlling some stray vines to gently twist around her thighs, and a kiss to the neck and Selina would be a goner. However, tonight was not one of those nights. Selina was pushing Ivy’s buttons and they both fucking loved it.

“Well, I may not be a doctor in a medical sense,” Ivy cleared the table, getting up behind her. “But in my professional opinion,” she continued as her hands reached Selina’s sides, pulling the cat burglar closer to her. Ivy’s hands wandered up to trail over Selina’s breasts. Ivy could hear Selina’s breath hitch, and decided to push forward. “Maybe if you’re in that much pain…” Ivy whispers as Selina can feel her breath tickle her ear. “… I think some bed rest is in order.”

Selina turns her head around and presses her lips to Ivy’s. What first started as small pecks soon evolved into a tender kiss. Ivy could feel Selina snake a hand through her red curls; her nails gently scratching her scalp. Ivy let out a soft sigh as Selina pulled away for a moment. She fully moved herself around to face Ivy completely, before straddling her thigh and returning the the kiss. Selina let out a low moan as Ivy playfully bucked her up her thigh. With a coquettish chuckle, Ivy’s hands trailed down to Selina’s ass before gently nipping at her bottom lip.

“Fucking tease,” Selina grinned. “Who knew that the illustrious Dr. Isley could be so salacious?”

Ivy hummed before quickly hoisting Selina off her thigh and off the table. “Then I’d suggest we take this appointment to the bedroom,” Ivy wraps an arm around Selina’s shoulder. “I do have a reputation to uphold you know.”

“Oh please do,” Selina’s hungry gaze caught Ivy’s as they made their way into the bedroom. “I would so love to see that reputation in action.”

Ivy lowered Selina onto the bed, hands caressing her thighs as she sunk down, kneeling in between her legs. Selina shuddered at the sudden sensation of Ivy’s nails gently dragging across her thighs. It was one of her weak spots that Ivy loved to exploit.

-

Victor Zsasz loves to make his mark. Most infamously known, are the vast array of tally marks that are carved into his skin. Every mark, a symbol of every life he’s ever taken; every light that’s been snuffed out. In his mind, the marks serve as mementos; being made in the moment as a reminder for a lifetime. It’s an act of permanence. It’s an act of devotion.

So to him, it only makes sense to mark you just as he marks himself.

Apprehension and anticipation linger all around you. You sit there, completely still. Your upper half is completely exposed to him, save for your bra, leaving every inch of your blank, unmarked flesh in his view. Your shirt is discarded, laying in a crumpled pile on the floor. The soft sound of Victor’s footsteps fill you ears, pacing slowly behind you. Suspense and excitement fill your stomach. A deep inhale makes its way into your chest when you feel the cold metal of his switchblade touch your skin.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” his voice is honest, firm, yet comforting. “This is gonna hurt…” you can feel the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, smoothing down your arm. “…A lot.”

“I appreciate you doing this Victor,” you turn to look at him. “But honestly, I’m a little scared.”

He stands over you. The blade, lightly trails along your chest, just below your collarbone, where you assume the mark will be made, your nerves spike, but you choose to swallow them down, knowing this is how Victor expresses love, in his own, sick way- not that you minded. He kneels, making his way down to your level. His hand guides you chin down to gaze into his dark eyes, filled with reassurance.

“I can promise you,” you feel his thumb gently rub over your cheek, “The pain won’t last long.”

His gaze is intense. Taking a deep breath in, you nod. “I trust you.”

He lets out a grin, tucking your hair behind you ear. He plants a soft kiss to your cheek where he was caressing over it. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters at his assurance. For someone so keen on sadism, getting off on the pain of others, Victor was being surprisingly comforting with you.

You can feel his body looming over you, feeling his head look over you to find the exact spot where he would mark you. He makes contact with your eyes, giving each other nodded approval to do it.

The metal is cold and exceedingly sharp. You can hardly feel it when he cuts you. The sensation almost feels pleasant as the blade glides through your flesh. You feel yourself bite back a shriek when he digs the knife deeper into your skin, making sure the cut will leave a lasting scar. Your breath hitches in your chest as he continues dragging the knife into you. Fresh crimson spills out from the cuts being left in the blade’s wake.

“God,” Victor lets out a soft growl, “I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.”

He’s in awe of the blood trickling down your chest. It coats your chest, running down, nearly dripping down to your bra. You let out an abrupt whimper, unable to hold in the increasing pain.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Your bra strap slips past your shoulder. You feel Victor’s body directly behind you, almost in an hug. His hand smoothes your shoulder firmly, comforting.

“It’s okay,” He hushes you. “I know, I know.”

Those next few seconds, the pain is excruciating. You get up, turning around and steadying yourself on him, wanting nothing more to be enveloped in his embrace. Your eyes meet his, gazing at each other for just a second before crashing your lips together.

You feel yourself being carried over to the bed, feeling Victor’s hungry grasp taking off your already disarrayed bra. You suck in a harsh breath, feeling his tongue lick up the blood that dripped down your tits.

“You did so well,” Victor praises as he devours your bloodied flesh, slowly trailing downward, “I’m proud of you, taking that like a champ.”

“Oh god, V-Victor,” you whimper. You feel your pants being slipped off from under you. Your cunt aches, dripping with arousal as Victor thumbs your clit through your underwear. “I fucking need you.”

Victor gazes at you, carnally. His eyelids are hooded, lust swirling within his eyes. He pulls out a condom from his pocket, tearing the wrapper quickly with his teeth. He urgently slides the rubber onto his cock and eases himself inside you.

You can feel Victor’s body on top of yours, being careful to avoid the cut-up area of your chest. He positions himself, leaning on his shoulders to look at you. He rocks into you slowly, feeling your soaked cunt clench around his cock. As he picks up the pace, he presses his lips to yours feeling yourself moan into his mouth. His tongue feels heavenly and you feel yourself melting into him, letting out a hushed breath when he bites your lip, pulling away.

“You like that?” He asks breathlessly

“Y-yes,” you grunt out tenderly. “You feel fucking amazing.”

Victor chuckled, rolling his hips. You feel your cunt flutter around him as he continues to fuck you. You grip onto him tightly, nails sure to leave some marks on his back. He lets out an amorous groan, enjoying the way you hurt him.

“I love what you do to me,” Victor moans. His pace is rapid, hitting the deepest parts of you, making it hard to keep yourself quiet. You can feel your orgasm swiftly approaching, and judging by his pace- utterly frantic, so could Victor. “Your my girl, and I fucking love you.”

You’re taken aback by his abrupt confession, but honestly? You feel the same. Your hand drops down to your clit, rubbing it quickly, desperate for release. You cry out after he hits a particularly sensitive spot, once again slamming your mouth to his as you ride out your orgasm. He thrusts himself deep into you, a guttural groan escaping his lips as his orgasm isn’t far behind yours.

When all is said and done, you’re completely fucked out, disheveled, and exhausted. The air grows thick, heavy around you as he crashes onto your uncut side.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “You are so good to me.”

Victor smiles, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. He runs a hand through your hair, before holding out a hand, pulling you up. He turns around, grabbing some towels and antibiotics for the cut “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Hey Victor,” he looks over at you, head cocked curiously. “I love you too.”

-

It all happened so fast. The way they sank their teeth into you, ripping into your flesh. How garbled your screams were as blood filled your throat, coughing it up. You could feel them sucking the blood out of you, growing woozy through the attack. Once it was all said and done, all you could do was lay there, wavering on the verge of death, processing what happened. One blond and one brunet. You’d never forget their faces- their bright red eyes.

But here you are, alive. Or, at least you think you are. You’re alive, but definitely not the same as you were. This time, you’re stronger. Angrier. Thirstier. There was a pit in your stomach, and you don’t know how to fill it. Your hands shake, feeling the indescribable urge to just attack; wanting nothing more than to rip your teeth into the nearest thing you see.

As you run through the forest- looking for anything to sate the adrenaline pumping through you, that is when you finally see them again. Their hair and eyes are unmistakably what you remember. Stopping dead in your tracks, you hide yourself in the tree line, ready to get some answers, or depending on if you could control yourself, ambush them.

They sit there on their logs, around a campfire, completely oblivious to your presence. Dropping from the tree line, you charge toward the blond, putting him in a headlock and pinning him chest first to a tree.

“What the fuck did you two do to me?” You snarl.

“Aw look, Stefan,” the blond laughs, crushed against the tree. “They survived!”

“Impressive strength, for a newborn.” You turn to hear the deep, amused laughter of the man, apparently named Stefan, from behind you. He shoots an entertained look at the blond, who looked at back at him with a smirk that gives you pause.

You quickly come to realize, that they are not afraid of you. Regardless, you stand your ground, keeping a firm grip on the blond.

“You two have five fucking seconds to tell me what happened to me or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kill us?” Stefan speaks up. “You hear that, Vladimir? The newborn thinks they can kill what is already dead!”

You freeze for a moment, confused. You’re completely taken off guard when Vladimir, the blond, breaks free from your grasp. There’s hardly enough time to fight back when you suddenly find yourself the one now pinned against the tree.

Their laughter rings in your ears; clear, low, and almost carnal. That pit in your stomach begins to churn, and not necessarily in a bad way. Vladimir’s body is impossibly close to you, with Stefan making his was beside you. You let out an audible exhale as you feel yourself be pushed further into the wood.

“So much fight…” Whispers Stefan.

“…For such a young thing,” finishes Vladimir. You can feel the back of his hand trail slowly down your cheek.

“You two are fucking sick,” you spit, turning your head away from him. His hand rapid makes its way beside you, dangerously close to your throat.

“We are not sick,” chuckles Vladimir, “it’s just difficult to talk when the one who wants answers is…”

“…Wound so tight?” You can hear Stefan’s voice coming from the other side of your ear. You wonder when and how he made it over to you so quick.

“Exactly,” replies Vladimir. “Which is why…” his hand drags over your throat. His grasp is cold, light, soothing the adrenaline that pumps from within you.

“…You need to relax.” Stefan is now directly at your side. You can feel his breath along the outside of your neck, down to your shoulder. He places a hand on your arm, soothing it down.

It kills you inside to know how much you’re enjoying this. You release some tension, signaling that killing them isn’t the only thing you want anymore. You take a deep breath in, swallowing your pride.

“Try anything, and I’ll rip you apart,” you whisper.

Your consent seems to be enough for them. You can feel Vladimir’s lips first, attacking your lips with fervor. Not far behind, Stefan’s lips make their way to your throat, hungrily, but not like when they drank the blood from you before. Their touch was something different completely. This was carnal.

You let out a soft moan as you feel a hand drop in between your legs, gathering your liquid arousal. Another pair of hands starts feeling you up, leaving no curve or crevice untouched.

“Wow,” Stefan groans softly. “Who new that a newborn would be so…”

“…Easy?” Finishes Vladimir.

The way they spoke in tandem was uncanny, similar to they way they worked together to touch you. Feeling a finger slip inside you, you grip the back of the tree so roughly, you could swear you hear a crack.

“Oh god,” you sigh, “h-holy fuck.” Your legs start to feel like jelly. Hearing the salacious chuckles from in front of you, you can only assume that Vladimir is the one finger fucking the daylights out of you, while Stefan gropes at you.

You can hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling and the sound of pants hitting the floor of the forest. You feel yourself being bent over, gripping to the tree for dear life. You hardly notice that your pants are down to your ankles, feeling the sensation of a stiffened cock teasing your inner thighs.

Looking in front of you, Stefan stands there expectantly. You take down his pants, freeing his length. You grip the shaft, firmly- as a warning. You look up at him dangerously, teasing him with a baring of teeth, before taking him into your mouth.

You let out a sudden whine when Vladimir eases himself inside of you. Stefan shudders as your moans vibrate around his cock.

“God look at you,” gasps Vladimir. “Getting ravaged like a whore.”

The degradation sends spasms of pleasure through you as he continues to fuck you. You try to talk back, but continue to muffle yourself on Stefan’s cock, where he generously allows you to control the pace. As you get the sense of where he seems to be enjoying himself too much, you slow down.

“Easy,” you direct. “T-tell your b-buddy up there to cool it with, fuck, with the remarks.” Stefan practically whines as you loosen up on him. Managing to keep your strength while getting fucked, you grip onto his leg, steadying yourself. You hear Vladimir bark out a sadistic laugh from above you.

“You’re funny,” he grunts, “thinking you have power here…”

“We know all the answers…” replies Stefan, halfway jerking himself off while you gingerly suck the head of his cock.

“…We know what you are,” croons Vladimir. His pace rocks into you mercilessly. You’re left almost breathless, feeling your orgasm rapidly approaching. You feel that if you come, you would be letting them win their strange game they seem to be playing with you. All that flies out the window when Vladimir’s cock hits the deepest part of you. You let out a restrained scream as your orgasm rips you in two.

You look up to find Vladimir and Stefan in an embrace, mouths attacking one another’s as you ride out the throes of your orgasm.

“You did so well, newborn.” Hums Vladimir.

-

He’s rough. Good god, he’s fucking rough. His cock stretches you open deliciously, slamming into the deepest parts of you. The slick sounds of your dripping arousal fill the room with every violent thrust. You were sure the sheets were soon to tear as you kept such a firm grip on them, feeling the fabric twisting in between your fingers. With Ben continuing to fuck you, It’s almost impossible to keep yourself quiet at a time like this.

“J-Jesus,” you gasp, “holy fuck, Ben, y-you, fuck, you feel so fucking hot.” Your voice wavers in pitch and volume. Ben maintains a brutal pace, which you could swear he does on purpose. He lets out a gruff chuckle.

“Look at you,” he chides playfully. “Fucking you so good, you can’t even speak.”

You let out a loud yelp when you feel Ben’s hand give your ass a hard slap. You jerk forward, shuddering on his cock. You can feel his towering frame lean over you, pulling you up by the shoulders, gathering you to his chest. He puts his fingers in your mouth, silencing your cries of lust. You suck on his fingers, moans bubbling in your throat as Ben pistons his hips, fucking up into you. It’s almost embarrassing how much you like the feeling of Ben using you like this.

“B-Ben please,” you whine. You feel your knees begin to shake as you feel yourself beginning to unravel. “Ben, I, fuck, you’re so-“

“Babe,” Ben slows down. “As much as I love hearing what I do to you…” he gently maneuvers you, flipping you to look into your eyes. His hand tucks a piece of hair the fell onto your face behind your ear. Even with the dim lighting in the room, you can still the mischievous flecks of green in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek, the sweetness of his actions causes your mind to run wild with what kind of degenerate, devious plans he has in store for you. He reaches over beside the bed and grabs your discarded underwear. “…You talk way too much.”

“Open your mouth babe,” he grins lasciviously. You comply, opening your jaw as Ben shoves the underwear in your mouth. “Careful not to choke, there are better things to choke on,” he chuckles.

Lowering you on your back, Ben soon eases himself back inside you. His cock slides into you deliciously. Your hand drops to your dripping sex, stroking it in arousal while Ben slams himself into you.

As Ben fucks you, several moans erupt from your throat, but are all muffled by the makeshift underwear gag. You feel yourself exceedingly reaching your peak. Struggling to express your arousal, Ben lets out a wolfish chuckle.

“Aw sweet-cheeks,” he croons “you gonna come? Don’t be shy, you can be as loud as you want now.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. The gag does a great job at silencing your wanton moans. You ride out your orgasm, feeling yourself clench around Ben’s cock.

As you come down from your high, you spit the gag out of your mouth, glaring at Ben in equal mixtures annoyed and playful.

-

You wait there in trepidation, shrouded in darkness. The blindfold sits fixedly on your face. You lean forward, hands tied above your head. Excitement and dread lingers around you as you hear the gravelly chuckle of Garfield Lynns

“Feelin’ restless?” He asks, teasingly, from across the room.

“Let’s cut the shit,” you reply, keeping your voice low to hide any signs of anticipation. “What’ve you got planned?”

Your ears perk up as you hear something being placed on the table. The familiar click of a lighter being lit fills your mind with any possibilities of what you may be in for. However, with Garfield Lynns, anything having to do with fire was always a guarantee, sexually or otherwise.

“Now, sweetheart,” he drawls. “If I told you the plan, that would ruin all the fun.”

His voice sounds closer to you now, much more so than it sounded before. You can’t pinpoint how close until you feel his scarred hands trailing up and down your sides. His touch is slow, which is surprisingly different for him, catching you off guard. Garfield was always very rough with you, to feel him touching you slowly, sensually was a little unsettling, but certainly not unwelcome.

“Fine,” you sigh openly, “don’t tell me, just know that I’ll be able to take whatever you have to throw at me,” You huff. You want to say more, going on about whatever hell (or heaven) that Garfield wants to put you through will be something that you will be able to take, but the words are lost on you when you find ally discover what he was hearing that bowl for.

The hot oil, borderline scalding, causes you to tense up, shuddering as it hits your skin. You let out a restrained moan as his hands glide over your nipples, extremely hot and wildly sensitive. His hands linger around that area, groping you, feeling up every region that Garfield knew would make you squirm.

“You were saying?” He playfully comes back. You can’t see his face, but judging by his voice, you can already tell that Garfield is going to have a good time tormenting you.

“F-fuck,” you stammer. “Don’t tease.” Before you can thinking of any witty comebacks, a strangled whine escapes your lips as more hot massage oil pools in between the crevices of your shoulder blades. With even the smallest of movements, the small amount of oil welling in each curve began to drip down your back, cascading in a fiery waterfall of delicious agony.

The added simulation of the heat and Garfield’s ministrations to your sensitive flesh sent a spike of arousal down to your sex. Garfield’s hands began to trail down your body, lower and lower. Being in such a vulnerable position allowed him to much more easily have access to the parts of your body you wouldn’t so easily let anyone feel up, but god, if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

As his hands sneak their way into the waistband of your underwear, you feel yourself become almost boneless at your aching core, knees shaking, becoming more drenched not only with the oil, but with your fluids.

“You ready for it?” Garfield asks, voice low and husky.

“Please, touch me,” you nod your head frantically, almost pleadingly.

“I should almost not, you know, just because you talked such a big talk,” you can feel the breath of his voice, dancing across the back of your neck and into your ear. “But I can hardly resist…” his hand is now directly on your arousal, making you shudder from the drastic temperature change, stroking you slowly, gathering any fluids that were dripping down. “… I love it when you squirm for me.”

You clench your legs together, desperate for any friction from the excruciatingly slow simulation Garfield may have been giving you.

“Easy now,” he hushes. “I want this to be a slow burn.” His hands now teases over a particularly sensitive area, causing you to buck into his hand. He tsks at you, who does not seem to be catching his drift. “From just a small little candle, will soon evolve into a towering inferno…” you can feel him tease around your entrance. “…Engulfing you with heat, feeling nothing but the scorching…” his fingers slip inside you. “…Scalding…” fucking you steadily. “…Smoldering…” you cry out a shameless whine, his fingers hitting you exactly where you ache. “…Fire, transforming you until you have nothing left but to…” the friction is driving you wild. Garfield’s touches are leaving you breathless so close to the edge. His fingers curl within you, leaving you to writhe through your orgasm. “…explode.”

-

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself in a hostage situation, but here you are.

One moment, you’re sharing a drink with the charming man you met at the bar in the airport, then next thing you know, you’re forty thousand feet in the air, staring out the window, by that same charming man, keeping you trapped to your seat.

His plan to you was easy: call the hotel, and switch the room. That’s it. The way he had described it to you was exceedingly simple. He specifically told you, it’s simple. But if it was so simple, why would he threaten to kill your family? Why was he so hellbent on getting you to switch the room? Why would he shoot down your every single, rightful attempt to escape? If it was so simple, why couldn’t he do it? What was he really hiding from you?

“Jackson, this is fucking insane,” you hiss. “Sooner or later I was eventually going to have to go to the bathroom, it’s an eight hour flight for Christ sake.”

He holds up an empty water bottle. “Best I can do.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” You let out a soft chuckle, laced with annoyance. “You think you’re fucking funny? You’re not funny, Jackson.”

“Look, if you just made-”

“No, no, what would be funny, was if you let me piss myself, making a scene on this fucking plane, which I’m sure you wouldn’t want, right?”

Jackson sits there silently as you continue to go on your whispered tirade.

“And if I get taken away, you’ll never get that call.”

“Your family will die.”

“How bad do you want it, Jackson? Fucking try me. You want me to make that call? Then please, let me go.”

Jackson stares at you for a moment, completely dumbfounded. His icy eyes soon narrow into an amused gaze. He lets out an entertained sigh, and gets up from his seat.

You cock your head, confused. At first you think it’s some sort of trick until he motions for you to go. As you make your way down the aisle, you feel a tight grip on your wrist, holding you back.

“Don’t get cute.”

He lets you go, and you find yourself in the cramped space. After locking the door, you make the attempt to collect yourself, taking in a deep breath and exhaling a groan of pure rage. You curse yourself at the situation you found yourself in. You curse yourself for the possible danger you’ve landed your family and possibly innocent people in. You stare at yourself in the mirror, angry that you even let yourself fall for him back at the bar before all this even happened. At this point, you would like for nothing more than to punch the mirror, cracking and shattering it into shards.

Wait. The mirror?

Glancing at the soap dispenser, you frantically pump out some of the soap, forming suds on your hands. By the time you’re finished writing your message, you let out a laugh of relief. Cleaning off the evidence, satisfied with your plan to escape, the pride suddenly drops into the pits of your stomach as you find Jackson, waiting outside the door.

Before either of you can get a word out, you feel his hand covering your mouth. The back of your head hits the wall as he slams the bathroom door shut. You feel woozy, from the quick motion quickly halting to a stop. You can hardly pick up what he’s saying until you find your consciousness has faded back into place.

“If that little, by-the-book stewardess saw that, the plane would be safely landed, I wouldn’t be able to relay my command to the man outside your house, and your family will be dead.” His hand grips the sides of your cheeks, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes, glacial, look at you fixedly. “It would be wise of you to stop gambling with their lives.”

Due to the cramped space you two currently find yourselves in, you feel his body on top of yours, impossibly close. The room starts to grow heated. Breathing heavily, adrenaline flows through you, ready to escape by any means necessary. Without thinking, you press your lips to his.

He opens his mouth slightly, allowing you to feel one another’s tongues in your mouth. He nips at your lip as he pulls away, eliciting a soft mewl to escape your lips. You gaze into each other’s eyes, deeply, before diving back into one another.

The kisses grow more heated. You can feel him gripping at every curve and crevice of your body. Your hands make their way up to his head, fingers raking through his hair, giving it a soft tug. You note that this seems to spur him on, as he grinds himself against you. Feeling the sudden friction to your groan, you let out a hushed moan.

You soon find yourself being propped up on the sink. The sound of heavy breathing and Jackson unzipping his pants fills the cramped cubicle of a room. You can feel a growing dampness from within you sex. Arousal spikes within you, once Jackson’s throbbing cock is whipped out from his pants.

A hand drops in between your sex. You bite back a moan as Jackson gathers your pooling arousal, swiping over the spots that make you squirm. He lets out a smooth chuckle, pleased with himself. Positioning himself with your entrance, you feel his cock slide into you roughly. His other hand warps into your scalp, yanking you closer to him as he fucks into you.

His pace is slow, but exponentially rough. You can feel him splitting you open deliciously, fighting the urge to let out whimpers of pleasure escape, which would compromise both your position. It’s when he speeds up his pace, which has you getting more vocal as you beg for your release.

“Jackson, please,” you pant. Your back hits the wall with each thrust, feeling yourself come more and more undone.

“N-not until, fuck, you make, the call,” he grunts, pounding into you.

“Mmm, you know, I-I can’t do that.”