junko loves being lusted after ---------- being craved &* adored &* hated. so long as attention remained on her , she didn't care how it came across. love or hate ; pain or pleasure ! none of it matters --------- it tickles the part of her brain that keeps her from offing herself out of boredom. draws her to seek out new stimuli -----

like this. her current scars are self inflicted , but that grew boring to her rather quickly. there was no surprise in where they'd be placed or how deep they would go ! but when the knife is in nagito's hand , she can't stop the excitement creeping up in her stomach.

perhaps she takes from his experience in that she doesn't react poorly when he makes the first few cuts. she just smiles , eyes glazing over as she watches the blood bubble up. when she does make a sound , it's a gasp of pleasure. causes her fingers to grip at his shoulder , red nails digging into his shoulder. she presses herself down against his lap , eager to roll but not wanting to mess him up. ❛   fuck --------- ❜ she laughs breathily &* rubs her hand over the lettering , smearing blood down her thigh before pressing her palm against his chest &* dragging it down to the hem of his pants. ❛   blood looks good on you. ❜

she leans over &* kisses him deeply , her hands moving to deftly undo his belt so that she can pull it free &* toss it aside. she unfastens his pants , then slides her hand in , fingers seeking out his cock without hesitation. her hand smears his precum &* the rest of the blood on her down his length. ❛   &* you're still so hard. are you a sadist , you weirdo ? ❜

she smirks &* slides off his lap so that she can sit on her knees in front of him. she bats wide eyes at him &* puts on her best innocent look. her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she slides his pants down &* off , as well as his briefs , shoes , &* socks. once he's totally bare , she lets her eyes roam over him , amused smirk curving her lips. ❛   all those people never got to see this ? ❜ she pouts at him as she reaches over &* wraps her fingers around his cock to give a firm stroke , then a few quick , eager strokes as she keeps her eyes on him. ❛   how unlucky for them ! ❜

she turns her attention towards the knife he holds , gaze focusing in on it. ❛   where do you want my name ? i could do the same you did . . . or go a little more . . . intimate. ❜ she drags her thumb nail along the underside of his cock with a playful smirk , the sharp edge of her claw tracing the vein running down his length -- not enough to hurt , but certainly a tender sensation.

                     he doesn't look away from her for a second — staring unapologetically. perhaps if it were someone else he may feel a little bashful at the sight, but he just can't bring himself to feel that way towards her. so, he watches, taking in the sight and committing it to memory. it's almost funny, the contrast between the two. komaeda's lanky form, his sickly, pale skin covered in a large variety of scars and blemishes. and her, the pinnacle of beauty — perfect in every way.

                     well... almost. ——— as she moves to straddle him once more he studies her thigh, looking to the scars there. almost delicately, he runs his fingers along them. he'll be among those imperfections soon. but even in labeling them that, he can't help but find them attractive. it was impossible not to find junko enoshima attractive.

                     he adjusts his grip on the knife, holding it properly so that he can get to the carving. a slow breath is inhaled, attempting to calm himself — the exhilaration of such an idea was causing a small tremor in his hand. his handwriting was horrid, but he still wanted to do his best to make it readable.

                     the first stroke is made, drawing blood. his smile becomes more crazed at the sight, and in turn his movements are more confident. he continues drawing out the necessary strokes — putting focus into making sure it was legible. and it's not long until 狛枝 凪斗 is written on her thigh in stunning, bright red ink. the fingers that had brushed against her older scars come now to brush over these fresh ones. the blood smears, staining his fingers. junko enoshima's blood... on his very own hand no less! just the sight of it makes him dizzy with glee.

                     ‶  ah — if you're going to return the favor...  ″ he looks up from his red-stained fingers.  ‶  could i get my pants off first?  ″ it was hardly fair she got to be so undressed while he felt so confined.

he might laugh , would the effort not cost too much care &* energy. instead he just sighs &* leans back in his chair , head tilting back to look up at the ceiling. ❛ i eat in the woods. my canines are better suited than these anyway.   ❜ liar. he hasn't eaten in . . . honestly , he's lost track. doesn't care. ❛ why are you here , rhys ? you're not welcome.   ❜

tendrils of smoke & night linger throughout, not a shred of sympathy weighing rhysand down from where he leans in the doorway. only a feigned expression of hurt, as palm slides over his beating heart. " when have i ever been known to kick a male while he's already down? " gaze flickers over the other, arms crossing over his chest as he inspects him. " my, tamlin. you've seen better days. are you unable to cook for yourself? "

fizz goes still in the others arms. it's hard to rewire his thoughts -- to try &* think of that night as anything but the life changing trauma it had been. it had been the worst day of his life --- he'd wished it had been the last so many times. to know that it could have been the best had things not gone to shit ----------------- it rips open a chasm in his chest that he's not sure he could ever close. his swallow is rough &* gets stuck on the urge to sob -- to plead with whatever higher being was absolutely fucking with him. he was no sinner ------------- he was born here. was he destined to be just as tortured as those sent here for their sins ? what cosmic being had he pissed off in a past life to deserve all of this ?

( maybe he's being punished for being too soft for hell. maybe this was all retribution for being kind &* seeking joy as a kid. really , how dare he. he was a pride demon ! he was not born of lust or gluttony or anything that necessitated joy &* happiness. he'd created that himself ; offered something to this place that they hadn't had before. &* yet ------- life had not been good to him in return. )

❛   you love me . . . ? you mean that ? ❜ his voice is small &* scared as his arms tighten a bit ---- ever mindful to not be too rough ; his strength can get out of hand. he leans back , arms stretching out to make it so that he doesn't have to release him at all. his eyes are soft &* vulnerable &* terrified. the truth comes barreling out now that his defenses have been broken down , crack by crack. his eyes burn &* his throat squeezes , but he can't stop himself from blurting out ------

❛   I LOVE YOU , TOO ! i wanted to tell you for . . . for as long as i've known you , you jackass. i was so fucking in love with you that it hurt. i thought . . . i thought if i told you , it would ruin everything &* you never felt the same &* ------ ❜ a huff &* his brows are knitting. ❛   why did you run away ? i would've ----- we could've ----- ! i---- i mean , everything would have been ------ ❜

a downright petulant whine leaves him before he's drawing the other back in for another kiss. this one is almost angry ------------ frantic &* frustrated &* clearly eager to make up for lost time. he mutters little frustrated curses in between each kiss as he clings to him. he doesn't stop himself from crawling over him , desperate to stay close. like if he's not attached to him , he'll slip through his fingers &* he'll never get him back.

It's complete instinct - when Fizz presses his hand against Blitz's face, Blitz leans into the contact with a kind of yearning that starts in his bones and screams up through his blood, his muscles, his skin. His body is wailing and thrashing against the walls that Blitz has caged it in, and it's all he can do not to entirely nuzzle his face against Fizz's palm. - And maybe there's something to be said for the fact that it's a different palm, beautifully and expertly crafted prosthetic, glowing in delicate blue, but it's also not different at all.

It's Fizz. It's Fizz, it's still Fizz.

When Fizz moves, Blitz moves with him, inherently aligning himself even though the kiss that comes next catches him completely and entirely off guard. Something explodes behind his eyes, like so many fireworks crackling to life, dragging colors across the sky - colors that pulse with life instead of death.

Fizz is kissing him. Here, now, in this reality.

you tried the solo act - it didn't work out so well !

He's heard Fizz's voice - pure, warped, pitched to every single octave, echoing, whispered - in his dreams, in his nightmares, for a long, long time. And every time he's always frustratingly fucking right - he tells Blitz that he's going to be alone, that he never wanted to be alone, and whose fault is that, the hilariously fucked up tragedy that is his life ? He'd always known that it would be better for everyone around him if he were far away, where he couldn't ruin them.

But, fuck, Fizz was right - he never wanted to be alone.

It feels so selfish - so completely undeserved, but as soon as Blitz's mind clicks into gear and he's done processing the shock of it, he's returning the kiss tenfold - decades of longing and love in every desperate movement. And when Blitz pulls him close and buries his face against his shoulder, Blitz's hand comes up to press against his back - protective and frantic to know that this moment won't simply vanish into thin air.

I'm not your fucking friend, Blitz.

There's an option where Blitz willfully misunderstands Fizz - finds those walls, throws them back up, runs. Fuck, it'd probably be better for Fizz in the long run. But they're too far into this, unraveled and honest and Blitz thinks he might actually fucking die if he tries to bury this again.

❝ That night - ❞ His throat is aching and raw around a truth he has never, not once in his life, said out loud. ❝ - Right before ... everything. I was going to - I was gonna give you a note - I was gonna tell you - ❞ His face is still burning, his eyes stinging, but this might be one of the most important things he's ever admitted; he has to be brave.

❝ I ran, like a fucking coward, and I'm so sorry, Fizz. I'm so sorry for that - for everything that happened because of that. But all I wanted to tell you that night was that I - I love you. ❞

for a moment too long , fizz feels the world go absolutely still &* silent ----- blitzø isn't saying anything ; fizz fucked up. SAID TOO MUCH. he always says too much. he never did anything right &* now he's said too much &* ruined this already fragile thing &* he's going to lose blitzø again &* this is exactly why he never said this shit when they were kids &*&*&*&*&*&*&* --------------

&* then blitzø is hugging him.

a beat passes as he can't will his body to move. as he feels the way his heart skips a beat &* feels like he might burst apart at the seams. blitzø is there , holding him. telling him he missed him. squeezing fizz like he's the one who might slip away. he can't make his brain catch up until blitzø has pulled away &* he's talking but fizz can't hear a damn word he's saying. can't focus on anything except the profound ache that accompanies no longer being held by this stupid imp that crumbled his heart once. this man who didn't know how desperately he was loved.

the only thing he can bring himself to do is reach over &* cup blitzø's face , then lean over quickly to capture his lips in a kiss. he can't contain how needy it is ---- how repressed feelings spill out into it like the container holding them in had absolutely shattered. it's a flood of emotion that makes the jester shudder &* let out a pained little noise -- not physical pain ; the kind that only comes with bottling something up for so long that it fills every part of his body , only for that wholeness to rush out of him. he doesn't even give blitzø time to react , really. he just wraps him up in his arms this time &* hides his face in the other's shoulder. now he really couldn't take it back.

❛   i'm not your fucking friend , blitzø. ❜ he finally speaks , but it's quiet &* tired. it's clear to tell by his tone that he doesn't mean he thinks of them as less than that ----- no , he's frustrated that they're not more. that all of this conspired &* neither of them could get their shit together for this long. even now , he's only hiding his face because he anticipates rejection.

There used to be a time when he could just - read Fizz. Know him. Anticipate what was coming, when. They were never perfect - they'd fought, they'd annoyed the fuck out of each other, but they were perfectly them. Pieces that fit together just the right way, worn in complementary spots. Through the rocky times, the good ones, they moved together in a way that Blitz depended on.

Now, he's sitting there, tail twitching, no idea if he's said the right thing - if this is just another way to hurt Fizz, if he's doing more harm than good. Every decision for the last fifteen years has been dogged by doubt, by the occasional, remembered smell of smoke, of the kind of self loathing that sticks to the backs of his ribs and lives in the hollow of his spine. It's ancient and sticky, and he doesn't remember what it feels like to not worry that he's fucking everything up again.

Then Fizz laughs - like full on fuckin' laughs - and Blitz just ... blinks at him.

You're a fuckin idiot, you know that?

Blitz is extremely aware that he is, and he doesn't begrudge Fizz if he needs to say it, needs to lash out - but he doesn't actually sound pissed and Blitz can't help but lean in, hope flaring stubbornly in his chest despite knowing that he doesn't deserve it, that he's still earning it.

Though - it's a really good thing that Fizz keeps going because Blitz is stunned by what he comes out with -

don't you know i care about what you have to say more than anyone else ?

He can barely keep up, can barely process what Fizz is admitting, but at least he has the time it takes him to get through his speech to try. Everything hits - spending so much time alone, wanting to be seen by Fizz - wanting to pick up that stupid phone and call and just hear his voice - even if he hated him. I just wanted you to like me, and fuck doesn't that ring every bell in his goddamn body ? Doesn't that fit right into the space Blitz had carved out for Fizz when they were kids and his heart was bursting with all the like-like, the love, that Fizz brought into his life ?

His face his burning, his throat is burning, and something icy and bitter is cracking apart inside of him, letting a small, soft thing, neglected for years, emerge. Even after Fizz finishes, Blitz is silent for a few, long moments, just staring at him - eyes wide, like he's seeing something spectacular.

( he is. )

And then without thinking, all at once, Blitz throws himself forward and wraps his arms around Fizz, and Fizz is suddenly not the only one tearing up. Blitz can't worry anymore if this is wrong or right, if he's awful or okay - all he can do is cling to the person who's been most important in his life for so damn long.

❝ - I really missed you. ❞ His throat is aching, and his voice is more watery than he'd prefer, but Blitz clings to Fizz for a while - relearned the feel of him, the way his weight is a little different - the prosthetics that he had never been close to, now he can understand the feel of them as he wraps his arms around Fizz like he'll disappear the moment he lets go.

Thank fuck he doesn't. Blitz pulls back, scrubbing a hand across his eyes, his smile lighter, fuller - more real.

❝ What I think is that you're a pain in the ass when you want to be, and you know you're funny which makes you dangerous. You're a slippery fuck, you always have a fucking quip ready - and you're also probably the kindest and most dedicated person I've ever met. Any kid would be lucky to have you as a hero. - Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. ❞

he's glad they can still be light with each other -- the gentle laughter &* playfulness that belongs to friends. there's nothing awkward here , which is a blessing -- all things considered. so as bucky mocks his choice of words , he can only grumble &* roll his eyes as a flush touches his cheeks -- but he's smiling , knowing there's no harm meant.

something stirs in his chest when bucky shows signs of jealousy -- not overtly , but he didn't agree with what steve said. seemed to want him to shut up by dragging him into such a needy kiss. so he does just that -- shuts up &* kisses him. gladly meets the same possessiveness that bleeds in to the kiss.

❛ 'm not a captain anymore.   ❜ he smirks a bit , pecking the others lips once more before he forces himself to get up. ❛   c'mon. i never use that damn bed. might as well wear it in. ❜ he walks backwards for a beat , then turns &* heads towards his bathroom ------- the hair at the back of his neck stands up , feeling bucky's gaze. he knows he's a sight like this , but bucky had always kept his eyes on him before the serum , too.

in his bedroom , there's a pillow &* folded blanket sitting atop each other on the floor. his bed is perfectly made &* tucked up like military bedding , but it's clear he sleeps on the ground. it's been so long since the war , but he hasn't shaken the habit. there's a desk in there with a hundred sketches pinned to the wall above it ------ mostly buildings &* animals &* vehicles , but there's also some of his friends. the most detailed are definitely of bucky.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀&&⠀@maimedaffair

⠀It's Bucky's turn to feel a sense of satisfaction at the whimpers leaving the other man's lips, continuously pressing tentative kisses to his warm skin while he fists Steve's cock slow and lazy, squeezing him on every second stroke just so he can wring out more of those sounds—an insatiable hunger he can't seem to fulfil. The way the other grinds down on him only amplifies it, his cock twitching under him.

⠀The thought to perhaps pause his stroking motion on Steve's length crosses his mind, but he finds too much gratification in every hitch of his breath and the falter of his words. It elicits his own grin pressed against Steve's neck as he listens intently to his options.⠀⠀❛⠀Don't underestimate me⠀❜⠀⠀he chastises, nothing serious to his words as the top of his nose traces the edge of Steve's jaw. Then fingers are gripping his hair and pulling him into a sensual kiss, a low noise muffled between them as he reciprocates the kiss, leaning into the blunt nails scraping against his scalp. He could happily continue kissing him until their lips were swollen, and he knew Steve would to an extent, oblige.

⠀Steve's choice of words elicits a scoff that fans his lips, quickly recognising the terminology from baseball.⠀⠀❛⠀Glad you thought that was a poor choice of wording, too⠀❜⠀⠀he quips, his metallic hand stroking now Steve's spine, dull, blue eyes momentarily admiring him. Bucky knows with certainty that he wants everything with him;⠀wants to taste him on his tongue, wants to watch him make a mess of his hand. He wants to feel him clenching around his cock when he reaches his orgasm. He wants Steve in every way possible—wants to make up for the lost time stolen from them by everyone who had kept them separated.

⠀❛⠀Let's not get ahead of ourselves⠀❜⠀⠀he murmurs, his metal hand resting on the back of his neck and pulling him in to capture his lips, something eager and fervent. The thought of finding someone else who knew nothing about him left him feeling unsettled—it was the last thing he envisioned for himself, and he always thought it was because no one could want someone with a heinous past like his. Now he's thinking it's because there's something more than that. The thought of Steve wanting someone else, dating and doing... this with someone else, it has ugly jealousy and possessiveness surging within him.

⠀Bucky's quick to change the subject then.⠀⠀❛⠀I want to keep going⠀❜⠀⠀he does his best to conceal the eagerness in his voice when he hears it.⠀⠀❛⠀I want...⠀to do this the right way. Surely the captain has a bed?⠀❜

AYYO does anyone on here do like ,,, really edited promos and headers and stuff ? like the kind with gifs and layers and boom bam u know. i cannot be bothered. obv i will pay lmao

steve is patient &* gentle as he sits there , simply pressing kisses against his skin while he comes back to reality. a wry grin tugs at his lips as a feeling of pride runs up his spine --- he made bucky feel good ; really good. gave him a genuinely good experience for the first time in a very , very long history of bad. no one else can say that. it puts to rest some of those old jealous thoughts that plagued his youth -- the ones that left him crying at home whenever bucky went out on a date with some pretty girl.

then bucky's touching him again &* all steve can do for a second is whimper as he's reminded of just how achingly sensitive he's become. he instinctively grinds against his lap to get some friction , where he's met with bucky's half hardened length beneath him. a shiver of excitement passes through him as he slides one hand into bucky's hair. bucky was not the only one who wanted more.

❛ we have some options , then ------- whichever you're comfortable with is --- ah ... --- fine with me.   ❜ he swallows thickly &* laughs breathily. ❛ you can just use your hand , or use your mouth like i did. or i can run off to the shower if you're tapped out. or ---------- we could . . . keep going.   it's been a long time since we last went all the way , so we'd have to take it slow , but ------ ❜ he bites his lip slightly before leaning over &* catching his lips in a slow , hungry kiss. ❛   you were real good at not treating me like i'd break in half if you went rough. ❜ it's whispered , as if someone might overhear even now. his fingernails scratch the others scalp gently. ❛   you were really good at teaching any way of doing it. the soft &* slow was nice 'cause you'd hold me close. i always did the girl role ----- you know , bein' the ... uh , catcher. ❜ he laughs softly &* scrunches his nose. baseball terms were definitely sexy. ❛ i can guide you through it. just so you ------- i mean , get out the rest of that tension. &* if you find a date sometime , you'll be prepared.   ❜ even now , he can't grasp it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀&&⠀@maimedaffair

⠀It takes a long moment for Bucky to come back to the present, the aftermath of his orgasm eventually settling and leaving his muscles feeling at ease. Steve's words and his laughter elicits a playful huff from him, craving his touch as now both hands move, settling on the other man's hips when he returns to his rightful place on his lap.⠀⠀❛⠀I'll take your word for it⠀❜⠀⠀he muses, eyes closing when Steve's kisses drift across his face. So tentative, it makes his chest tight.

⠀❛⠀How do you think I feel?⠀❜⠀⠀his hands stroking along the other man's side, delicately tracing over his ribcage, reciprocating those gentle touches. Bucky leans forward then, pressing a kiss to his muscled shoulder, and then another.⠀⠀❛⠀Better than I have felt in a long time⠀❜⠀⠀he responds a second later, and he means it. His hand of flesh trails back down Steve's stomach, his thumb now teasing the velvety head of his cock while he kisses his neck.⠀⠀❛⠀But we've still got this to deal with⠀❜⠀⠀he points out, emphasising his words with a languid stroke of his hand down his length, smearing his pre-cum with the motion.

⠀Bucky can feel his own cock stirring, the serum having affected his stamina in more ways than one. He wants more—more than wandering hands and mouths on each other, but he doesn't ask for it. Not unless Steve wants that, too.

oops its 6am.

Why does Danganronpa always have the sickest burns or the most random dialogue

she watches the thoughts cross his mind ; takes note of what seems to peak his interest more or less. at the command , though , she scoffs. ❛   i said TRUST ME , not boss me around. stupid. ❜ a smirk tugs at her lips , signaling she's at least playing with him. ❛   i have to wear this skirt out of here , so. ❜

she sighs heavily as she gets up &* takes a few steps back. she smirks a bit wider before turning around so that when she slides the skirt down , she's bent over with her butt facing him. her panties are the same lacey material as her bra , but they're actually more of a thong than anything else. her butt is just as pretty as her chest. she straightens back up &* groans as she stretches her arms high above her head to arch &* pop her back. every inch of her is perfectly hairless &* smooth ; her skin is soft &* supple --- truly the picture of an idol who loves how she looks &* uses it.

she spites him in not taking off her underwear. she settles back onto his lap , thighs straddling his legs. her fingers trace absent little patterns against his abdomen &* chest. ❛ go on , then. mark me up , you kinky weirdo.   ❜

                     he didn't expect her to go along with his little jest, but the fact she's humoring him only gets him more excited. his name on her body — permanently scarred there. that would be so humiliating! the name of such a loathsome person permanently etched onto the ultimate fashionista... his hand trembles slightly from the thrill of it all.

                     ‶  hmm...  ″ he glances over the options he's been given. for a moment his eyes rest on her left wrist.  ‶  your wrist is tempting...  ″ it would probably bleed more, too. it'd be easy to cut a vein.  ‶  but your thigh is much more intimate!  ″ and if she were to say, have sex with someone else after this... they'd know he was there. that she slept with such trash.

                     he can't feel bad for her — but he notes the vulnerability in admitting such a thing. even if he did care for her without any complications, scars were nothing special to komaeda. a mark of survival, maybe. he had plenty — and he's sure he'd get plenty more. his body has endured a lot throughout his life.

                     ‶  take your skirt off.  ″ giving orders now; maybe the knife gave him some form of confidence. or maybe he just finally has something to demand.  ‶  ... or i can take it off for you.  ″ the tip of the knife at the waistband, little care for what likely had an enormous price tag. either result was satisfying for him; slicing it off her was equally as attractive as the idea of her listening to his demands.

like a hawk , her gaze follows his movements ; pays attention as he picks up the knife -- the way he holds it away in a non-hostile manner. idiot ! she'd have stabbed him already in his position. but , it does mean something good towards her new goal. he valued her life a tick more. the idea he brings up sounds crazy , but it draws that chaotic grin to her face.

she squints her eyes , then hums &* moves her hand to his wrist to angle the knife. ❛ where ?   ❜ she hums , guiding his arm to point the knife at her bicep. ❛ here ? or ...   ❜ she slides the tip of the blade down her arm to her wrist. ❛ here maybe ? orrrrrrrr ....   ❜ she leads him down to bring the knife back between them , this time using the tip of it to raise the edge of her skirt. ❛ on my thigh , maybe ? only you would know it was there. there's already scars there anyway.   ❜ another subtle vulnerability. harming herself brought a great deal of despair , but also just the overwhelming amount of despair she felt in general sometimes called for a release.

                     how... did he get here? it's a question that burns in his mind as she claims she'll try too — one that burns hotter as he returns the kiss with similar need. strange, strange, strange... this was strange. this odd attempt at mutual romantic feelings between the two of them. he recognizes it as weird, yet it felt so natural getting here. she was like a vortex drawing him in. or maybe like an eclipse; blinding him — and he refused to look away for one second.

                     on the topic of trust — he could never trust her. the very fact she proposes the idea signals potential insincerity to him. but he doesn't think she'll do anything here. not now. not anymore. not unless she gets bored.

                     finally his shirt can fully fall to the floor. he rolls his wrist once more, thankful for the mobility. as she takes the beat he finds himself catching his breath, recovering from their prior fervid kissing. he'll be fine. even if his poor constitution resulted in him running out of breath easily, komaeda was never someone opposed to pushing his own limits when motivated. and god, was he ever.

                     the knife is up for grabs, his eyes darting between it and the woman on top of him — her incredible chest. he could take it. stab her, cut her, make this room a violent bloody mess and take the quick road to her demise. all he has to do is take it. take it — take it — take it —

                     his hand remains on her hip. his newly freed hand, however, holds the knife. it's slightly loose in his grip, his wrist is limp, tilting the blade away from both of them. a contemplative look on his face, the sound of static humming in his ears. but it's only a very brief moment before a rather cheerful smile bursts onto his features, excitement glimmering in his eyes. the mania of someone who has the power to do just about anything right now.

                     ‶  hey, enoshima-san —  ″ he seems to study her face, gauging her reaction. his voice carries a very light quality to it. nothing menacing, no underlying malice. carefree. typical of him, although this may be the most carefree he's sounded throughout this interaction. like a switch has flipped somewhere —  ‶  maybe we should carve our names into each other! haha, that would be romantic, wouldn't it?  ″

                     he's joking.

                     probably. it's kind of hard to tell with him.

it's his favorite part ----------- steve can't take his eyes off of him as he watches bucky come completely undone. steve shows off a bit -- swallows easily , eager whimpers leaving him as he enjoys the sensation. when he has to , he slides off of him , though his hand takes his place to lazily stroke him , making sure he's completely out. the last bit of cum that leaks out is swiftly swept away by his thumb , then said thumb is popped into his mouth to clean it off with a satisfied smirk as he sits back.

❛ you look so good right now. that's not fair. ❜ he laughs softly , hands smoothing along the others knees &* thighs soothingly. he leans down , pressing soft kisses along the others abdomen &* up his chest to his neck. he crawls back into his lap , allowing him to kiss bucky's jaw &* cheek &* temple &* forehead. what gentle affection for a man just practicing with a friend. ❛ how do you feel ?   ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀&&⠀@maimedaffair

⠀A part of him doesn't want to hurt him, yet while another reminds him that he wasn't the same frail, skeletal man that Steve once was—he could take whatever he gave him, and barely budge. His words yank relentlessly on his self-restraint, and Bucky's gaze meets his just as he parts his lips to resume his ministrations. Who was he to deny him, anyway? Especially when he groans around him, pushing him further and further, closer to the edge.

⠀The return of his warm mouth is utter bliss. Bucky experimentally rocks his hips in the slightest, the head of his cock brushing the back of his throat causing a guttural sound to leave his own. The building pressure causes his core muscles to tighten, fingers clutching Steve's hair when it amplifies with every bob of his mouth and swirl of his tongue.⠀⠀❛⠀Steve⠀❜⠀⠀he moans what is meant to be a precaution out, his expression twisting with pleasure.

⠀When his throat constricts around his aching cock for a second time, the tether in him snaps.⠀⠀❛⠀I'm- fuck⠀❜⠀⠀his hips rock once, twice, and his back arches as the intensity of his orgasm slams into him. A shameless moan is pulled out of him, trembling fingers holding the other man in place as he spills down Steve's throat, his cock twitching as he feels his throat milk his length. For a moment, he can only pant and try to catch his breath, trying to focus his mind back to the present, and not the movement of his throat around him.

there ----- the edge is just behind his feet. one little push &* he'd be hers. mind &* body &* soul. there's excitement building in her core ------------- what if she truly did fall in love with him ? truly gave him a chance ? it would devastate her when he inevitably died. she'd be a mess ! a beautiful , despair filled mess. it came with quite a task --- wear a mask around him ; he won't love her if she's up to no good all of the time. perhaps one of those science nerds could figure out how to just erase his memories of everything except his love &* lust for her. that would be so much easier. but she's used to acting normal &* lovable in public. convincing him she's turning a corner enough for him to hope for her love to be enough ? that shouldn't be too hard.

step one : trust.

❛   i'll try if you will. ❜ she slides a hand up into his hair to tangle it there &* tug him back up so she can pull him into a needier kiss. she melts into it , pressing her body as close to him as she can. when she needs to breathe , she parts from the kiss to lean back &* give him a hesitant , almost vulnerable look. ❛   that starts with trust , doesn't it ? ❜ she bites her lip &* leans over to her other boot , sliding another knife from it. she reaches behind komaeda &* makes childs-play of slicing through the ziptie holding his arm.

she sits back up straight , eyes him for a beat , then hums &* sets the knife between them on their laps. her hands move to the clasp on the front of her bra to pop it open so that she can slide it off , revealing full , bare breasts to him.

she tilts her head as she regards him , her expression somewhere between worry &* stubborn pride. ( inside , her blood is pulsing. heart is racing. EXCITING ! tiptoeing between dying &* making the first few steps towards someone's ultimate despair. )

                     could he really call this lust love? did he even know the difference? was he capable of separating the two at this point in his life? it's possible that she's right — that he's already begun sliding down that slippery slope. he's tempted to release his hand; deny the allegations and claim it was ridiculous. but the stakes were raising now ——— this was no longer a game about trying to resist her despair. rather, it was becoming a challenge to kill her with nothing but his hope.

                     ‶  real love?  ″ he echos, now watching her lips as she speaks. as if hooked on every word — paying rapt attention. he isn't sure if it matters if the love is reciprocated or not. but it'd be better to play it safe. on top of that... giving her something no one else ever has... that appeals to him in a way he can't identify. perhaps it's a desire to haunt her thoughts; the degradation that comes with obsessing over some one so far bellow her.  ‶  ... i'm not sure.  ″

                     the idea of someone falling in love with him is a baffling one. as the days go by it feels more and more unlikely, but regardless it's still something he's craved. now more than ever. he's been alone his whole life, naturally, but the last two years... those were the loneliest by far. like a hole had opened up in his chest ——— and now, finally, he has a way he might be able to fill it. with junk — the most disgusting trash he could find — but it would still do the job.

                     his hand massages her breast idly, his eyes trailing down from her lips to her neck and collarbone.  ‶  i could try.  ″ that's all he could do. he lacks her confidence in that area. but there's one area he doesn't lack confidence in; not when it comes to his actions, at least. mentally he doubts and doubts and puts himself down, but when it comes to doing things he needs to do, he performs remarkably. observant, adaptable, a fast learner...

                     lips find their way to her neck this time, taking initiative. any and all pretenses of him wishing to deny his interest are cast aside in this moment. he's so very interested in her. in all of her — how frustratingly charismatic and beautiful and lovable despite how messed up in the head she was. her demented love of despair made him sick to his stomach; but he has always lived surrounded by despair. if she was willing to be his next tragedy, he would happily accept. he would find hope here. he knows he will.

                     wet, somewhat sloppy kisses are placed against her perfect skin. he's taken in this experience — watched her, felt her. with this new knowledge obtained it feels obvious to him how he should act. it was pretty simple... easily something he, of all people, could pick up on. ——— his hand slides down her abdomen and around her side, locking itself on her hip and tugging her closer to him. it'd be a much smoother motion with both hands available, but he does his best with what he has available to him. he wants to remove any space between the two of them; get as close to her as possible. he wants to choke on her despair — envelope himself in it — drown in her. his own hips lift sightly to meet hers, pushing his concealed hardness against her. the pants really need to go sometime soon; it's almost painful, how badly he wants direct contact.

he watches bucky with rapt attention , barely blinking in fear that he'll miss something. it's been too long since he saw this ; he's not missing a second. so he smiles lazy &* happy up at his friend as he strokes him. ❛ you can move your hips when i'm using my mouth. i can take it.   ❜ his thumb smears some of the pre-cum down his length just before he takes a breath &* gets back to work , mouth wrapping back around his cock.

he groans in that pretty , needy way. gives the base of bucky's length a squeeze , then slips his hand down so that he can massage one of his balls as he takes his length farther down again , bobbing his head &* swirling his tongue. he repeats his earlier trick -- getting him in , swallowing , &* this time , staying there to let him savor the feeling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀&&⠀@maimedaffair

⠀Familiar emotions and sensations rush back to him, heating his skin and clouding his mind more with need and desperation. Bucky was never out of cryostasis long enough to indulge in this—never had an urge to cave into his repressed desires. Maybe he didn't want to;⠀his subconscious stopping him from seeking anyone else that wasn't the man before him. It made sense, he didn't want anyone else. God, couldn't have anyone else after this. Bucky's breathing turns laboured, his fingers tightening in the mess of blond hair as his needy whine vibrates around his weeping cock. The growing pleasure builds in his stomach.

⠀His hands move, and for a fraction of a second, he thinks he's done something. The ex-soldier tilts his head, returning his hazy gaze back to Steve in time to see said hands latch onto his hips and—

⠀Oh, fuck. Bucky swears he hears the fabric of the sofa tear under his firm grip, but that's the least of his concerns, eyes rolling back when Steve takes his entire length down his throat, and swallows. The fluttering vice squeezes delectably around his cock, stealing the breath out of his aching lungs and it takes every fibre in him not to cum there and there. Any longer, and he could have, much to his embarrassment.

⠀A grunt leaves him when the warmth of his friend's mouth pulls away entirely from his cock, giving him bittersweet reprieve. Only for a hand to begin stroking him, more pre-cum pooling at the velvety head, dripping with every stroke of his hand. This time, his hips rock into his palm, seeking out the needed friction.

he wonders how long it has been since bucky had this or anything similar to it. had he ever indulged as the winter soldier ? he clearly hasn't hooked up with anyone in the present day. or was this the first since their last time together ? god , he hopes it is. wants to know he's the only person who's touched this man. the only one to bring out these sounds --- the kind that make steve's cock leak desperately. he finds himself grinding forward against the cushions , a needy whine leaving him.

then his hands have moved away to rest on bucky's hips as he dares to test his muscle memory ---------- he bobs his head until he can sink farther &* farther down his length. it takes a moment of concentration , but soon enough , he's succeeded ------ the bulge in his throat is evidence of that. his eyes roll closed with the pleasure of the success , then he dares to swallow , tightening his mouth &* throat around the others cock more. he pulls back off of him completely to give himself time for some deep breaths , but one of his hands as returned to the others length to stroke him eagerly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀&&⠀@maimedaffair

⠀Bucky's body is never not taut with tension;⠀muscles constantly seized up and unrelenting. Even now when Steve's hands roam his scarred skin, though he does seem to ease into his touch. A small voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this was not a touch meant to harm. His eyes fixate him on the man who kneels before him, the hunger and admiration in his gaze taking the breath out of him, and fuelling his own aroused state. He couldn't say he was at all disappointed by the switch of positions.

⠀Only for a moment does his eyes close to savour the trail of kisses, a soft, pleased sigh leaving his parted lips. Bucky's almost afraid of getting used to this—terrified that it could be taken away from him in a heartbeat and he'd be useless in getting him back. His hand moves, threading his fingers through blond strands as Steve ghosts past his aching cock, and a low moan surpasses his lips as his tongue skims his abdomen. Steve's groan only makes him leak more, desperate to be acknowledged and touched.

⠀He forces his eyes to open, glancing down at the sight before him. Memories of this spring to mind;⠀having to bite down on something to keep himself quiet while his friend's lips and tongue worked in tandem, bringing him over the edge. Moments like those became sloppy and quick when they were in the war, but that seemed only to give a thrill to Bucky back then.

⠀❛⠀Fuck, Steve...⠀❜⠀⠀his cock's incessant throbbing amplifies tenfold when Steve's finger teases his length, forcing his hips not to chase after that spark of pleasure. His mechanical hand digs into the cushions once more as a means to ground himself, but it all fails when Steve's lips wrap around the leaking head of his cock. A rush of ecstasy pulses through him and Bucky can't hold back his responding groan.

⠀Fingers fists his hair, his cock twitching under the warm glide of his mouth, the rough stroke of his tongue against him. Bucky was meant to be taking mental notes, but when his gaze soaks in the way Steve's lips stretch around his cock, and the hand stroking the half of him he couldn't fit, his brain does anything but.⠀⠀❛⠀Fuck, you feel so good⠀❜⠀⠀his voice is breathy, eyebrows furrowed together as he tries his damn hardest to not rock into Steve's mouth.

⠀But hell, is it hard. not to mention the way Steve looks isn't helping the clench of his stomach muscles, arousal only pushing him. Bucky has to tilt his head back against the sofa, willing himself not to spill down his throat then and there.

a cat &* a mouse , trapped in a delicate game. the cat has the advantage with fangs &* claws &* size , but the mouse is not without hope. it comes with an infectious bite that spreads disease through the cat --------------- metaphorically , hope. these two were capable of killing each other rather easily. that was not a fun or interesting concept. just a fact.

but the new level of bet is different ------ what if they did fall in love ? she'd still rise as the ultimate despair -- her own despair growing as he feels her true betrayal &* ultimately falls into agony with the atrocities he will commit. she'd feel agony when he died. the sweetest , most thrilling despair. a stupid game to play , but she's known to be quite a good actor. ( until she gets bored , obviously ! )

❛ i know i can. men are weak the second you let them see your tits. example a. ❜ a smirk as she glances down to his groping hand. ❛   can you ? make me love you ?   ❜ she softens her voice , like she's bridging a gap she hasn't dared speak of with anyone. ❛ it's the one thing i don't have . . . real love. you'd give me something no one ever has.   ❜

                     these day the despair that came from losing those he cared for only lasted for the briefest of moments ——— although it rarely happened anymore. he's distanced himself, kept himself away from personal attachments and investments. and in addition: he fooled his mind. weak hope vs strong hope; if the luck of someone so piteous could kill you... did you deserve to live in the first place? were you not already destined for failure at that point?

                     further betraying himself, komaeda melts into the tenderness. how can he possibly resist the first real affection he's had in years... it just wasn't something possible for him. even if she threatens to slit his throat — even if she actually goes through with it... maybe he'll get lucky and survive regardless. for some reason his accursed talent was dead-set on keeping him alive despite everything saying he shouldn't be. he wants to believe that's because there's something he has to accomplish — that there's some rhyme or reason for his tumultuous existence.

                     ‶  hahah — it's such a shame you don't have any lovable qualities!  ″ his hand moves to cup one of her breasts, feeling her through her bra. a slow squeeze, as if testing the waters. he's less hesitant and more curious — despite a distinct lack of experience he shows no signs of nervousness or apprehension.  ‶  that would make things much easier — i wouldn't even have to get my hands dirty!  ″

                     an interesting idea, really ——— something that he's quick to start considering. his luck was abstract, though, hardly ever something he could predict or control unless it was something smaller and more contained. even then, it was based more in belief than anything else. a blind faith that things would work out; that they had to work out. otherwise there'd be no reason for him to have received that ultimate title.

                     with their lips still so close, he brings them back together once more. simultaneously he gives her chest a proper squeeze, taking the moment to appreciate the almost surprising softness of her body. — huh? appreciate? what a bothersome thought.

                     ‶  do you think you could do it...?  ″ he parts to speak, keeping his face only mere inches apart from hers. his eyes look to meet hers — almost desperate to lock gazes.  ‶  could you make me fall in love with you? just to see what would happen.  ″

❛ i haven't lost a bit of interest , angel darling. i simply want you to enjoy being here ----- i can't imagine you are if you're in pain. i won't mention a word of it to val -- he's always been just a moth drawn to shiny things. &* you , sweet , are a diamond.   ❜ a smile as he gently tips up the spiderlings chin. ❛   val is not the scariest thing in pride. did you know i can petrify anyone just by looking at them ? summon the cosmos at my fingertips ? &* yet i use my powers to touch you kindly. so believe me , angel , if you have trouble with that overgrown gnat , just remember that owls eat moths. ❜

he feels it's working, not that he's surprised - his body was made for distracting others ( made to be fucked val always said ). a hand moved to stroke the side of the princes head, fingers brushing lightly against the feathers that rested there.

the mention of valentino has his hand stilling. well, that was a mood killer. ❛ i mean...yeah, course. ❜ his head tilted to the side, the smallest of frowns creasing his features. surely he wasn't the first of val's 'girls' stolas had paid for - he would know of the overlords contract with his soul. his body tenses, internal panic building as stolas continued his questioning. ❛ val's just gets....real passionate when clients...lose interest ❜ the lump forming in his throat was making it difficult to speak, hands pressing into the prince in a silent need to steady himself. ❛ if...that's what you really want. ❜ his voice had lowered, uncertainty seeping into his usually confident bravado.