#most significant though

[princsstwilightsparkl]

very funny to me that links fursona got exposed in 2006 with twilight princess and then last year with tears of the kingdom we finally got zeldas fursona to match<3

[flickering-nightfall]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

No Sharing.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[camzverse]

rereading ggy so i can type tony, holy SHIT all this boy thinks about is stories and journalism

[ressioo]

There's not much thats worse than finally getting free of your cage and realising that you feel even more lonely that before

That nothing has changed except that the touch you yearn for is now painfully within reach, yet you cannot have it

Basically Peepaw discovers that life off the string isn't like he thought it would be

And some fun on the string sig doodles, he's fucking miserable 👍

[the-silver-chronicles]

Siblings Q&A | Silva & Elsa Omar ONESHOT

Tagged by @raresbaby and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @voidika @icecutioner @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @strafethesesinners @rhettsabbott @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @deputy-morgan-malone @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @sleepyconfusedpotato @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries and @nightwingshero + anyone else who wants to join. Taglist here.

Hey guys, SimpleGenius here! Decided to turn this short Q&A into a legitimate Oneshot for The Silver Chronicles, involving two OCs of mine; Silva and her younger half-sister, Elsa, set in a time in Hope County where Silva had no knowledge of Eden's Gate and the Omar's experienced a time of normalcy. There should be nothing but fluff, yes-siree. Oneshot below the cut:

The buzz of the worn-out camcorder complimented the numbing visuals of the frozen static, but swiftly the unused device booted up.

The specter on the screen was both haunting and ethereal, a memory from a time so much simpler. A normality so sparse in time.

With her trusty camcorder in hand, Elsa admired herself in the mirror. Hair twisted in many small blonde braids, wearing a white sundress laced with magenta patterns that looked like flowers.

The camcorder fizzled, the screen going blank for a moment. She gave it a good whack, faded red paint dusting her black gloves, and the camcorder proceeded to work like normal.

Elsa carried the camcorder away from the mirror, passing through into a lounge. Her hermana, dressed in a yellow flannel and black jeans, her dark hair flowing past her shoulders, seated on their couch having a cup of coffee.

"You ready, Sylvie?" Elsa asked, shuffling cards out of frame. Sylvester placed her cup onto the coffee table, laced gloves fixing creases on a dress she's not wearing. Realizing this, she stops the action and awkwardly cups her knees.

"Si, uh, seguro," Sylvester muttered out, clearing her throat, "How does this work?"

"Essentially, from what Rae-Rae told me, this is a fun little game where siblings answer questions for that net-work mambo-jumbo," Elsa explained, and again shuffled the flash cards she prepared.

"And since we're both sane enough to not invite people to put their noses into where they don't belong, I thought maybe, instead of doing this for strangers, we do it for Persephone," Elsa elaborates further.

Sylvester blinks, grey eyes staring at her younger hermana like a doe caught in headlights. She tilts her head, her right cheek sunk in, chewing her inner cheek.

"Elsa, she's una," Sylvester points out.

"Yeah, I know that," Elsa sighs, understanding but exasperated, "But she won't be for long. When she's older, we can show her this. Let her get to know her mamá and tía some more."

Sylvester's lips didn't quite frown, but she wasn't unconvinced either. "Derecha," she nodded, still wrapping her head around the camcorder's functions.

Elsa was likely grinning behind the camcorder, "Exactly! Now, to make this a bit more fun, I shuffled the questions out of order. Now let's begin."

Elsa showed the flash cards, the shuffle complete, and flipped over the first one.

"Question 19: Who has the worst ideas?" Elsa asked aloud.

Sylvester snorted, uncharacteristic of the person she's supposed to be, a small teasing smile on her healing chapped lips, "Well we both know who that is."

Elsa let out an exaggerated gasp, feigned offense, "Why Sylvie, I am but a respectable, humble and pious shopkeeper. Do you insinuate that I am anything but?"

"Bold words coming from the local daredevil who likes to worry her hermana to near-death," Sylvester retorts, arms crossed.

"...I'm guessing Rae-Rae snitched about my escapes on her roof?"

Sylvester had no need to answer, though Elsa must have seen that she had nothing to worry over, as Sylvester's smile held only amusement.

"Next question," Elsa declared, moving on, "Number 7: Most stable romantic life?"

Both wondered briefly, and Elsa states, "I gotta give this one to you Sylvie. You managed one relationship with Irene far longer than any ones I've had in our time here."

Sylvester narrows her eyes at Elsa, raising a quizzical brow, "Is that so? You and Ezekiel were like two peas in a pod every time you both talked with each other."

"That was brief, and we weren't official. Just some one-upping through flirtation. And he had been a real jerk at first, remember? At least you and Irene had a better start," Elsa deflects, waving a hand onscreen as she desperately denied her hermana's accusations.

Sylvester merely nods her head in feigned agreement as Elsa brings out the next question.

"Question 12: Best memory together?"

Sylvester leaned back on the couch, looking up for a moment. With Sylvester pondering which memory she liked the most, Elsa already found one.

"I'd say buying this residence," Elsa admits, "A place we can forever call our home. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sylvester looked to Elsa, and gave a short nod, "Si, it is up there. But... I'd say my favorite would be when it first rained. Just... playing and dancing like kids do... like we should have been allowed to do."

Elsa must have sensed the solemness in her voice, and replied, "At least we got to do it."

Sylvester hummed, appreciative of that fact.

"Question 15: Would you rather not being able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?"

Sylvester was immediate in her response, "Not shower for a month, obviously. We can just bathe in baths instead."

Elsa laughed, cheerful and loud, "Never thought you'd be the one to take advantage of a loophole Sylvie."

Sylvester smile wholeheartedly, grey eyes sincere as she admitted, "I learned the best from my crafty little hermana."

"Aww," Elsa lightheartedly cooed, and proceeded forward, "Question 5: Who sleeps the most?"

Sylvester raised her hand, "Mother of one very curious and fussy niñita, right here."

"No arguments there," Elsa replied, "Question 14: Dream trip together?"

In a moment of synchronized thought between hermanas, they both state, "Spain."

"Question 16: Who's the older one?"

Sylvester raised her hand once again. Elsa flipped to the next flash card, "Question 10: Who had a weird phase?"

Both pondered for a moment, trying to think of any moment in their lives of such a phase.

"I don't think we were ever given a chance to do so," Elsa states. Sylvester hummed in agreement, shaking her head in confirmation.

"Alright then! Question 6..."

Elsa paused, reading the flash card: 'Who's Mom and Dad's favorite? (If there is one?)'

Sylvester waits, worry building in her gut, and asks, "What's the question?"

Elsa hesitated, but responded, "Who's.... mo- ahem, father's favorite..."

Sylvester briefly gaped, but recovered, stating, "Well, we both know the answer to that question is neither of us."

Elsa hummed, throwing the card away as she proceeded with the next one, "Question 18: Role Model? Mine's you, of course. But who's yours Sylvie?"

"I'd have to say Paul," Sylvester mustered out, clearing her throat, "He saved me after all. Raised me. Gave me something that we were denied."

"I wish I got to meet him," Elsa admits, "From what you told me, he was funny and dramatic."

Sylvester smiled at Elsa's words, "You two would have adored each other."

Allowing Sylvester a moment to keep herself together, Elsa proceeded to the next card, "Question 3: Who eats the most?"

She raised her hand this time, the various rings displayed for the camcorder to catch, "That'd be me! Speaking of which..."

Sylvester cringed, swiftly adding, "I had a sandwich earlier."

But Elsa was not deterred, "While that's good, you skipped breakfast nor have you had any fruits or snacks prior to lunch."

"I'll have something later," Sylvester flimsily promised. Elsa, not satisfied, retorts, "I'll hold you to that."

"Question 8: Worst habit of each one?"

Sylvester sighed, "Well, you already know mine. Though your recklessness is concerning considering your condition Elsa."

"I'm not made of glass, Sylvie."

"Elsa, your bones are brittle and break easily."

"...Okay I'm a little like glass, but I'm not stupid. I can take care of myself. I know what I'm doing when I climb a tree, or go bungee jumping or help Rae-Rae around her farm," Elsa defends. Her hermana replies, "I... I know that Elsa, but even so, you've been seeking out riskier and riskier thrills lately, and I can't... help but worry."

"I appreciate it," Elsa assures, and adds, "But you worry way too often."

Sylvester doesn't argue, and Elsa takes advantage of the momentary silence, "Question 4: Who has been on the weirdest situations?"

Neither hermana could think of either one being in a "weird" situation. Sylvester opted to gesture to Elsa, "Well, given your escapades so far, I vote you."

Elsa huffed, "Seeking thrill is not the same as getting stuck in chance and strange situations."

"And how likely am I going to be in such situations?"

Elsa mumbles, indistinctly playful, and moves on, "Question 20: A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?"

Sylvester raises a brow, "Whoever finds it first."

"Pfft, a bug ain't that scary," Elsa comments, "Question 17: Describe each other in three words."

Elsa and Sylvester held gaze for a moment blurted out their answer.

"My badass worrywart-hermana." "Daring little hermana."

There was a silent beat before both responded to such descriptions.

"Surely that is four words, Elsa," Sylvester argued, but Elsa interrupted with her pointer finger as she replied, "Ah, but you forget my lovely older hermana, the power a hyphen holds."

Sylvester shook her head in disbelief, but did not debate further as Elsa brought forth the next question, "Question 1: Who looks the... ah mierda, another one?"

'Who looks the most like dad?' the question read.

"Is it another relating to... him?" Sylvester tested, her lips pursed in a thin line, her voice softer and quieter than normal. Her grey eyes dulled, hands clenched into her jeans.

Elsa sighs, a hand going out of the camcorder's view, probably to play with her blonde locks, and most likely undo a braid in the process.

"I... Do you mind if we skip this one?" Elsa asks, and Sylvester eagerly nods, much to Elsa's relief, "Question 11: Best cook of the family?"

Elsa answers before Sylvester could have a chance, "Yeah, I can't cook for shit, that's you right there, Sylvie."

Sylvester closes mouth, making no comment on Elsa's lack of culinary skill. Elsa flips the next flash card, "Question 9: Who's the most dramatic?! Why that would be me!"

Sylvester nodded with absolute certainty.

"Question 8: Worst habit of each one?"

Sylvester beat Elsa to the tea, "I got this. I'm a nagging worrywart who forgets her own needs sometimes, and you, mi querida hermana, are a crafty daredevil with a big ego that often gets you into trouble."

"Hah! Wow, you know me so well," Elsa said, flipping to the next flash card, but mentions, "However, you're wrong in your description; you're not a nagger."

Sylvester doesn't visibly react to this, but she seems to be stuck in a forlorn gaze. However, the next question snaps her out of this odd pause, and Sylvester listens attentively.

"Question 13... uh, worst memory together?"

Sylvester and Elsa pondered together, brainstorming.

"Our entire childhood was jodido and never the best," Elsa mentions. Sylvester frowns, and points out, "Si, but the run for the docks weren't any better."

Elsa couldn't not hum in agreement, and she moves on, "Last Question. Number 2: Who looks the most like mom...?"

Sylvester looks baffled as Elsa blows a raspberry, "Irrelevant. We've never met nor did we have the same mother."

Elsa throws away that flashcard out of the camcorder's view, much to Sylvester's visible annoyance.

"And... that's it. We finished the game. Yay!" Elsa lightly cheered, her camcorder focusing on Sylvester, "So... food for thought?"

Silva watched herself, younger and with so much more innocence, more hope, than she had now. The camcorder in her gloved hands was running hot, the flashing sunset-red indicating a coming end, but she could care less, holding onto the memory in her hands for as long as she could.

Sylvester chewed her inner cheek and said, "Besides two nosy ones, I'd say it was... nice?"

Elsa's mock offended gasp was as exaggerated as the younger hermana's mannerisms had always been, "Just 'nice'? This is a memorial moment for the both of us. It is evidence for Persephone to watch and rewatch for years to come."

Elsa placed the camcorder on the coffee table, and sat down next to Sylvester on the couch, a big grin spread out, pearly teeth shown. She grabs a hold of Sylvester's laced gloved hands, despite the latter's exasperation over the former's words.

"Wasn't it you who emphasized the importance of this? To immortalize ourselves through memories our family can visit decades after we're gone? Whether it be through ink, our voices or our image? You have to agree that this is quite a viable way to do that," Elsa assures Sylvester, who's doubt dissipated the longer she thought.

The camcorder began to buffer, the orange-red blinking faster, but Silva continued to watch, wanting to savoir this for as long as she could.

Sylvester's grey eyes looked to Elsa, softly asking, "Okay. But I have to ask; are you sure?"

Elsa laughed, her dimples caught by the camcorder's lens, as she says-

Nothing.

The camcorder's screen was blank, only reflecting Silva. The blinking light gone, the heat prevalent, and despite desperately pushing the power button repeatedly, Silva knew she wouldn't get those reassuring words she needed to hear. Not now. Nor ever again.

Silva's shoulders slumped, still sat down on the old wooden floor in the decrepit corpse of her home. The home she had taken care of for almost a decade. Even after her hermana's death, despite the ache for her visits. Even after Persephone's passing, though the yearning for her hija's laughter echoing in the halls hurt more and more with their absence.

And now... her residence, her home, was nothing more than a burned and decrepit husk full of dust and debris. All the memories that mattered, all the memories she held close to her, the journals, the photos, the shrines they rested under, were all tattered and ripped and frayed and singed and gone. Just gone.

And now... with exception to Silva's own visage of Elsa... the last thing of her hermana that she could have shown to her familia, could no longer function. The Collapse had reduced the resources required to charge such a small device to ash. Even if something survived, the camcorder was aged, and had some bugs.

Silva flipped the lid screen closed, clutching the little camcorder in her gloved hands, pushing it against her chest as she let out a shaky breath. The foliage that claimed her house rustled as a breeze swept past.

She shook where she sat, holding onto the pain, the knowledge that change has come and another chance away from her before she could appreciate it.

The wood creaked, and Silva didn't want to look at her amor's beautiful face, didn't want to shoulder her with more of her own pain and grief. But a dainty hand cupped her face, and Silva couldn't resist, relenting to her beloved's request.

Her tearful grey eyes connected with the warm green of Faith's. Her beloved, her esposa, her amor. Her Faith.

I am hers. And she is mine. As we both vowed.

And Silva wouldn't hide herself away from her. Couldn't. Even if she tried. How could she? They both knew the best and worst of each other. Intimately.

There was no judgement pitting them against one another anymore. Like now, there was only understanding. The grief for a present that they could no longer return to.

Silva did not resist the tears that fell across her cheeks. Nor did she push away Faith when she wrapped her arms around her. An embrace that held a strength that others underestimated about her. Both possessive and a comfort. All to tell Silva, I'm here.

Silva felt two more pairs of arms hold around her. The first was of her inventive Azriel, her grip unyielding as she buried herself into Silva's shoulder, just like she had done when she found her at age nine.

And the second came from her youngest. Her Mercy, clutching onto her with small hands, light-brown hair nuzzling into her body, perhaps not quite knowing why her madre was sad now that they were out of the bunker, but doing her best to lighten the load with her presence.

Silva placed down the old camcorder, and did her best to compensate in the embrace by wrapping her arms around her Faith and precious hijas. Her familia.

The grief was ever present, but this time, Silva would not be lost to it.

[A/n] I lied, the fluff was merely a front, there's only angst here. Well, mostly at least. Set before Old Dusk (the New Dawn WIP), with only a camcorder showing pre-Silva's Hope stuff. They probably only recently left Silva's bunker and well, Silva's obviously gonna be depressed about the state of everything. At least she has her family to keep her grounded? Also I haven't written in a while, so if it was repetitive or tone death, my bad, I've been trying to get my motivation back. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this lovely (and angsty) oneshot, and see y'all in the next one!

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

not only did I start consistently writing again after months of not but I'm way more okay with my body this is what getting really into a band does to a girl

[bingus35]

A lot of people have pointed out this might be foreshadowing for future cross guild lineup. Seems like the theme here is “people with crushed dreams/people who grew stagnant rediscover their dreams once again”

Crocodile and Moria are classic examples for people with crushed dreams. Crocodile had somewhat rediscovered his dream in Marineford, but judging from the newest chapter he still hasn’t abandoned his old Utopia plan (lame)

Buggy gave up on his dream 20 years ago, and just now regained it and said it out loud while also calling Crocodile and Mihawk’s way of doing things lame (goated)

Mihawk is still unclear, but one clear thing is he used to be way more of a threat than he is now. Who was once called Marine hunter is now basically a perpetually bored grandpa who just wants to a quiet place to drink and sleep -> He grew stagnant

Doflamingo, despite being active in the underworld and keep saying shit about the new era, doesn’t really do anything to change it -> which is why Law rubbed it in his face with the “I broke the gear” speech

[dalandan012]

Kinda weird how i haven't seen any hanahaki au fics on the scollace tag. Like CMON the scott pilgrim universe has shit like the space subways and vegan powers are you telling me getting the hanahaki disease is too farfetched. cmon somebody should start working on it!!!!

[ichthyorelationships]

an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....

the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc

[presbierue]

19 year old Kylo Ren: Oh gee, another Death Star? Very original. You going to invent blasters next? How about a wheel?

20 year old Hux: I am pioneering improvements in design. Which I suppose you would be unfamiliar with, given how you are a downgrade of every single member of your bloodline.

Kylo, internally: Oh he is finally flirting back!

Hux, internally: This fucking bitch dies tonight.

[beldaroot]

remember what they took from you....

[fromtheseventhhell]

I’ve seen a lot of people theorizing that Arya’s ending could be that she becomes Lady of Harrenhal. I like that theory, but do you think that Arya would willingly go back to a place where she suffered so much trauma?

Hmmmmmm I haven't really seen a lot of people theorizing this but I do think it has a basis in the books. I don't personally see it as an endgame position for her, although she does have plot connections to Harrenhal. As for her willingly returning there, that could either be a decision she's forced to make or something she chooses to bear for the " greater good". If Arya is in a position where she believes she is able to do some good in that role, I can see her prioritizing that over her own trauma. Either way, I think she will return to Harrenhal/the Riverlands at some point so it will be interesting to see how that plays out.

[tennessoui]

omg time traveler ahsoka au! she gets obi-wan to leave the order for satine in the hopes that he’d be weird with someone else but anakin gets sent on a mission to mandalore and wow there’s this handsome duke he has to look after. what a shame he’s married and definitely wouldn’t leave his wife for this jedi he feels immediately weird about

hmmmmmmm this is one of Ahsoka’s closest attempts because obi-wan’s personal sense of loyalty wouldn’t let him cheat on his wife, and he’s spent so long building a family and a life on Mandalore that he would never toss it aside to be romantically involved with a kid (read: 22yo) that he doesn’t even know even though he feels a very strong pull towards him….obi-wan is adept at lying to himself

It gets easier to lie to himself when he realizes that Skywalker is also married, though secretly…..it offends part of Kenobi, but that’s just because Skywalker is making a mockery of the Jedi order with his secret marriage!! Kenobi is no longer a Jedi of course but he still has great respect for the Order!!!

That’s the only reason he feels so strange when he thinks of Skywalker’s marriage even long after Skywalker and the senator he was guarding as she came to a celebratory feast on Mandalore leave again.

(Ahsoka tenses on her reset button as anakin makes his way back to mandalore a few months later, but they’re being….normal…this anakin requests to study ancient mandalorian and Jedi texts that are housed in the capital city and it’s weird because he’s never really cared about history but he’s being very…respectful….and master obi-wan is also being very respectful if a little stand offish….he accompanied him down to read the texts and they spend hours down there together but as far as Ahsoka can tell there is nothing inappropriate happening —she has gotten very good at telling when something inappropriate is happening between her old masters—they really are just…talking and reading and they’re being…sort of weird…but sort of normal….it’s the closest they’ve come to the original timeline in fact…Ahsoka relaxes on her reset button)

War breaks out anyway of course and obi-wan lasts only a month or so after anakin is pulled to the front lines before donning an old beat up and anonymous suit of mandalorian armor and flying to fight with him. The Duchess of Mandalore offers no comment. The official story is that her husband is sick in bed from a nasty case of Flafu flu. No one knows that it’s the Duke of mandalore in the red armor, supporting Skywalker’s troops.

Ahsoka wonders if Anakin knows, up until the moment some droid gets a lucky shot in and obi-wan goes down on the battlefield and anakin levels an entire field of droids to get to him looking half out of his mind with worry and rage….then she knows he knows and maybe that he’s always known

She’s tensed up over the reset button again, but after obi-wan’s been seen to by the medic, anakin sends him back to his wife on mandalore and, miraculously, after 2 years fighting to be by anakin’s side, obi-wan…stays, but he looks so beaten down over it, so without half his heart, like he’s suddenly aged 20 years and lived in a desert for all of them. But he stays.

The war ends eventually and the Jedi triumph. Ten years later, leia runs through Anakin’s study with an old red helmet over her head as Luke runs after her, playing war. anakin gently takes it off her and sets her on the ground. He cradles the helmet though in battle worn hands, but thankfully before either of them can ask, padmes speeder arrives and they shoot off to go welcome their mom home - anakin stays for a second longer, just staring at the helmet with such a naked expression of wistfulness longing heartbreak and acceptance that Ahsoka almost wants to turn away. Before she does she sees anakin touch his forehead to the helmet’s once before rising and putting it away, turning instead to go greet his wife

and it leaves Ahsoka with such a WEIRD feeling in her own heart that she’s pressing the reset button before she can think it through because she wants them to be apart and she wants the Jedi to win the war and everyone to get their happy endings but…but not like this…not if they’re not happy….she gets 1 reset where she gets to be selfish ok she’s gone through thousands now probably.

[becca-e-barnes]

I can't bring myself to think of anything except a submissive dbf Bucky on his knees, shirtless and just short of begging to be allowed to touch you. (Probably inspired by this tiktok that I've watched SO many times)

Even his very first kiss is frantic. He usually starts off gentle; almost tentative but within minutes he's holding the back of your head, keeping you close and it's such an indulgent kiss, it makes your head swim.

"Fuck." His mouth latches onto your neck, groaning quietly when he realises you already have the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone. He's already lost any desire he might have had to take this slowly.

You pull him back up to kiss your lips with a hand gently cradling the back of his neck. He doesn't voice any objections, following your lead and letting his warm lips slide over yours until your tongue teases his.

He's practically melting already and it's so rewarding to watch how easily he crumbles. Your lips don't part from his while he shrugs his shirt off and as soon as his neck is free of the collar, your hand replaces it.

His eyes open when you start to apply pressure to the outside of his throat, careful to avoid pressing on any of the more delicate structures. "Harder." He needs this. You have no problem indulging him.

"You're so good for me." He's flushed already but you swear the praise makes his cheeks blaze even hotter. His lips are pink and slick and he's long since forgotten his need to kiss you. Up until you use your grip on his neck to direct him to kneel on the carpet.

You let go of his throat, the release of pressure gives him a head rush and it's written all over his face. He's looking up at you expectantly, desperate to know what's coming next. Are you going to tease him about being so submissive? Slap his face a little? Spit in his mouth maybe? A little part of him isn't sure what he'd prefer more.

You do none of the above though. Instead, you perch on the edge of the bed while you play with his hair, letting the seconds tick past, not saying a word.

He almost feels deprived of touch, going from so much to so little in a short space of time. Your knees are pressed tightly together but he kisses up one of your bare legs regardless, worshipping every inch of skin he can press his mouth to.

"Spread your legs." It's only a quiet murmur but his tone is off. He's not in a position to be making any demands.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" It's almost funny that he thinks he'll get what he wants by addressing you like that.

"Spread your legs please." The emphasis seems genuine. He engaged his mouth before he engaged his brain. It happens and you forgive him, parting your thighs and letting him shift the skirt of your dress out of the way.

You hadn't bothered to wear underwear. It only gets in the way and Bucky seemed appreciative that he didn't have to waste any time taking it off you.

"You're so wet already." This wasn't news to you. Even just the thought of him on his knees for you is enough to get you worked up, never mind the reality.

One of your hands instinctively settles on the back of his head and you feel him start to glide his tongue over your slick sex. He kisses your body like he did your lips earlier. The pressure and intensity feels indulgent, long strokes of his tongue that allow him to taste you the way he's been dreaming of.

The slick sounds are obscene. His quiet moans are filthy. He sinks two thick fingers into your body, curling them while his tongue laps at your clit and you can't help the way your legs shake.

The pointed tip of your shoe presses gently to the front of his trousers and he gratefully grinds against the sole. His pleasure can't and won't be forgotten, although it seems like that wasn't a concern of his anyway.