part viii writing snippets!
all text may be subject to change, but i’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out so far <:
(transcription below the cut!)
[Image ID: Two separate screenshots depicting several paragraphs of continuous plain text, taken from an ao3 chapter draft.
The first image reads:
“The light was dim, but his tentative headache intensified. He winced, turning his head to the side.
He was faced with... stuff?”
(The text then continues into the next screenshot.)
“Welter pressed in on him, piles and piles of clutter arranged in precarious stacks. Bookshelves, boxes, dressers, pushed up against the walls, accumulating in a labyrinthine slew of corridors.
An incohesive sundry, laid out in rows and columns.”
The text concludes. /End ID]
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We joke about how Travis “showed up to Eras with a friendship bracelet and a dream” manifested his pop star-but-actually-biggest-cheerleader girlfriend, but how about Taylor “I've been on my knees, change the prophecy, don't want money, just someone who wants my company” manifesting her glued-to-the-hip-never-not-making-her laugh-football-player boyfriend????
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thoughts on ps!dbf!bucky and thigh riding 👀
Stop it, this is one of my favourites, thigh riding is so simple but SO underrated 🙈
Because I think if there's anyone who understands just how good thigh riding can feel for his partner, it's ps!dbf!bucky. That man knows every trick in the book. He wrote the damn book. He laminated the pages of the book so they won't get wet. You get the idea.
And I love the thought of just a really slow, hazy, intimate afternoon with him that only speeds up out of need, rather than necessity. Just a lazy afternoon in bed, enjoying each other's company and no need to rush. There are no distractions other than your soft groans mingling with his and the faint sound of cars driving through the light rain that's falling outside.
It's cosy and familiar and there's a real comfort that comes with being so entirely wrapped up in him. His hands trail over your body, working their way under the t-shirt you're wearing, seeking out the warmth of your skin. His lips are firm and insistent, sliding against your own with a kind of ease that only comes from practice.
This feels so different to the scenes he films. Lust seeps into your movements so slowly, it reminds him none of this is orchestrated. You're touching him the way you want to touch him; you're not following a script and in return, he has the same freedom to just enjoy the moment.
"Baby..." He whispers, low and gravelly and you don't need to see him to know his eyes are closed. You take advantage of the chance to catch your breath, curling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer again after a second.
Instead of returning his lips to yours, they find their way to your neck, not that you have any issue with the open mouthed kisses he's now trailing down your skin. This is what he wants and you're more than happy to give it to him.
He allows himself a few seconds between kisses to just get entirely lost in you. He almost forgets the task at hand, he's so entirely consumed by the familiarity of the moment. The smell of your perfume, the heat of your body, the way you sound when you groan his name; everything screams 'home' to him. There's a gentle tenderness behind every touch and he doesn't want that to be forgotten.
But in the time he's spent inside his own head, he realises he's neglected your need a little more than he intended to. You're now gripping his thigh that had previously been just resting between both of yours, pressing your core down against it and oh, he didn't realise just how desperate you'd got until that point.
Your thin panties do nothing to hide your arousal, not that it was ever any secret given the way you're pressing his mouth to your neck and whimpering.
"Does that feel nice?" He teases quietly, pulling away from your neck so he can watch your face as you nod. "Good. I'm glad."
One of his hands holds your hip, guiding you back and forth over his thigh, making sure that you reach your full range of motion with each drag. "That's it, good girl. Nice and slow." A strange sort of pride blooms in his chest at the tiny sob of frustration he tears from your lips.
Your panties are entirely soaked through. Not that it ever takes very long but he's almost impressed by how little he's had to touch you to get you into this state.
"You're gonna make a mess, sweetheart." He sounds amused and ever so slightly condescending and it's just beautiful. "That's okay. You can go a little stupid if you want to. Hump my thigh if that's what you need." It sounds truly pathetic when he says it like that but at the same time, it feels so perfect you don't really have it in you to stop.
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