#these notes are absolutely fucking batshit

[the-kipsabian]

i will legitimately be thinking about this game for years to come

[widowshill]

one of the interesting little nuances of r/v especially the first hundred or so episodes is like. he’s not really her employer! he has certainly has some authority over her, to order her around and to manage her relationship with David/David’s education, but Liz is her actual boss and Vicki never lets him forget that. he doesn’t have the authority to get rid of her ( try though he might! through multiple means! ) or to punish her, and Elizabeth’s word is final on any orders, even those relating to David. Rog has about as much actual authority over V as Carolyn does, which I think drives him absolutely insane.

[lemintee]

Setting my alarm to the second death note theme

[astromechs]

time to owe it to my 2014 self and liveblog the teen wolf movie, who's ready

[rinsoap]

THEM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!

includes : ken ryuguji and baji keisuke. they are in their late teens/early 20s.

note : UR WELCOME TO THE FOURTEEN REQS IN MY INBOX BEGGING FOR BAJI CONTENT! i was gonna write mitsuya and mikey but i got tired lol

ken ryuguji as your boyfriend.

he loves taking you out on his bike. he likes how you hold him so tightly, and he likes the feeling of your cheek pressed against his back. when you first asked him, he was a little wary at first because he was kind of scared you might get hurt, but who was he to say no to his girl?

the girls at the brothel fucking love you. you exchange makeup tips and self care remedies, they pinch your cheek and tell you how cute you are. "hi love, what are you doing here looking so pretty!? ain't she pretty, kenny? yeahh he thinks so, look at him, he's blushing" "'course i think she's pretty, i'm the one dating her" oh and they love to give you life advice too; men, money, independance, all of it. draken is embarassed by how they act, but you think it's sweet.

he hates being posted to your socials. he's cool with it if his face isn't in the picture, but he values his privacy. his own social media presence is practically nonexistent, other than one highlight with one story from your birthday of you holding flowers he got you. the song he posted to you is my girl by the temptations.

though he likes his privacy, he does like pda. not intense pda, it's not like y'all have your tongues down each other's throats in public or anything, but he likes a lil kiss here n there. his arm around your waist, or your fingers intertwined with his. a kiss on your shoulder, and always one on your lips before you part. and while he doesn’t typically like to make a scene, when he misses you its a whole different story. he loves when you run to him when you see him after being away from each other for far too long, throwing your arms around his shoulders and his wrap around your waist to spin you around, peppering the side of your face with kisses as you tell him how much you missed him through giggles. "missed you too, angel," a kiss on your jaw. "i'm sorry i've been so busy lately," a kiss on your cheek "'m gonna make it up to you though, i promise." a kiss on your lips. yeah, it's that kind of pda.

he will call you so many pet names, it's not even funny. they're out of his mouth before he even realizes it. it's not like he hides his loving side exactly, it's just that with you, he gets to be a whole other type of gushy. his friends make fun of him whenever they get a glimpse of his softer side when he speaks to you, but he does not care!!! he'll never stop calling you his pretty princess or kissing your cheek or holding all your bags when you go shopping just because his friends think he's whipped. he would happily admit that they're right!!

baji keisuke as your boyfriend.

he may come across as cold, but make no mistake, physical touch is his love language. he always finds himself gravitating to touching you, even in public. whether he's holding your hand or resting his head on your shoulder or tracing hearts and stars into the skin of your thigh, he just wants to touch you!!! in private, it is so much more egregious. he'll be on top of you, attacking you with kisses, hands roaming over your skin. he loves when you sleep over because then he can extend his time to cuddle with you. he likes little spoon and big spoon equally, he just wants SOMEONE to be held!!!

he has and will fight someone for you, absolutely no question. he doesn't exactly get jealous, you express how much you love him enough for him to have interalized it, but he does let a threat or two slip out when a man's flirting with you right in front of him. when someone is being creepy to you, yes, he has been known to throw a couple punches. he'll stop when you ask!! its not like he's batshit!!!! when he's finished, you tend to his wounds. muttering about how stupid he is but giving him a kiss to his temple.

he knows how obsessed you are with his hair. he watches you from the corner of his eye, staring lip tucked between your teeth as he puts it up. he complains, but he secretly loves it. "man you treat me like some slut" "true i'm just using you for your hair. one day you'll wake up bald and i'll be half way across the country with a ziploc bag full of your beautiful hair" "i hate you" he loves lying on top of you, cheek pressed against your chest as you run your fingers through your hair. he always ends up mumbling how much he loves you when your fingers find their way into his hair. he also lets you play around with different hairstyles too! his favourite will always be a half up half down moment :p

he calls you bro more than actual pet names tbh. generally, he doesn't use a lot of pet names because he'd rather call you by your name, but when he's being extra sweet or when he's tired, he'll use them. you love how cute he is when he's about to fall asleep, he starts going on and on about how much he loves his pretty girl. "soo sweet to me, love you soo much... my lovely girl... my love" he'll whisper into your neck, not even knowing exactly what he's saying himself as his eyes slowly flutter shut. when he's in a good mood he'll greet you with a lil "hey baby" or "hello perfect beautiful girlfriend" bc he's annoying like that 😞

he can ALWAYS tell when something is wrong. a clench of your jaw or a slight falter in your eyes, he immediately knows. he'll ask about it as soon as he picks up on it. he's surprisingly very good at comforting. he'll listen as long as you need him to, he'll give you a temple kiss, a gesture that quickly became a sign of love and understanding in your relationship. he'll kiss you on one, then the other, and add "to ease your mind." and you laugh because it's corny, and he rolls his eyes and claims he's never doing a nice thing for you again, but he grabs your hand to take you out to eat because he knows food is the best comfort.

[magdaluxe]

the hatchetfield tumblr landscape must be absolutely batshit

2 notes

🖨️ paul23 Follow

i hate my job get me out of here :/

1 note

💚 slauterh0used Follow

do NOT fucking interact if you support that damn dog im dead serious get the fuck off my page

20 notes

💝 jesus-is-lord1234567890 Follow

I won’t be on tumblr for a few weeks, summer camp’s got a no phones policy #blessed #summer #bible

0 notes

☕️ perkysbuds Follow

this edible aint shit lmao

298 notes

🟨 teddybear69420-deactivated-20200612

PLEASE donate to my k*fi :( spare change for the homeless so i can afford to buy myself something this christmas

-1 notes

❤️ foxbodied Follow

be honest would you still love me if i was a car

3 notes

☕️ perkysbuds Follow

this edible aint shit lmao

☕️ perkysbuds Follow

I Smell Spiders

298 notes

🟦 paul23-deactivated2020918

WHEN I SAID GET ME OUT OF HERE THIS ISNT WHAT I FUCKING MEANT

8 notes

💁🏼‍♀️ drowsytown Follow

whats that noise

[qqueenofhades]

AAAAHHHHHHHH It's TIM! 1000% strong MN girl here and boy it's been real fun to watch Tim (and Peggy! Our amazing lieutenant governor) take a small small Democratic majority and do incredible things. My kid ate two meals at school every day for free. DELIGHTED that he's the VP pick. LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Listen, I am just ECSTATIC. Ever since I seriously became tuned into the veepstakes, he was my number one pick (I mean, I was not immune to the brief flirtation everyone had with Beshear/Buttigieg/etc), but yes. Walz was my top pick and I was trying desperately not to get my heart too set on him in case it fell through, but he was the obvious best choice of the contenders by a country mile. He has an almost absurdly Midwestern pro-America background (military veteran, public school teacher, football coach from a small rural town, etc) AND he has managed to enact a long list of progressive policies in Minnesota with a very narrow majority in the state legislature. Also, you're going to be seeing a lot of this video, for good reason:

Also.... let's be real, Shapiro would have been an incredible distraction/drag on the ticket, unfortunately. We don't need to deal with his retrograde views on Gaza and his other baggage, and while he is a very popular governor in Pennsylvania, it's less certain that his appeal would translate to other states. We can argue (or you know, let's not and move on) about whether or not that was fair, but this is just not the year to try to win the most critical high-stakes election ever by pissing off young voters. Shapiro has done plenty of good things and has time to develop his career further, but he would have been a BAD pick for 2024 and I was alarmed at how many Respected Pundits (tm) were pulling for him. Reuters even claimed that picking him would "defang Republican attempts to make Israel-Gaza a wedge issue for Democrats," which is such a mind-bogglingly stupid statement that it makes you wonder how anyone writing it actually got paid for their political insight, but it also explains a lot about mainstream media these days. Picking Shapiro would have been an absolute gift to the Republicans and bad-faith actors and others (plus like, I don't want to have to spend time winning back the young voters who are actually once more engaged in the process!) and would have led to the media eagerly jumping into the feeding frenzy (because they're desperate to have a reason not to cover Trump's increasingly crazy-ass shit) and other Democratic-on-Democratic infighting. And it goes without saying that WE CANNOT AFFORD THAT.

As well, picking Shapiro just because you need to win PA this election cycle is yet another example of why the Electoral College sucks, and the polling averages in PA have been moving solidly blue anyway. You can just park Shapiro there and have him campaign in the state as the sitting popular governor, rather than expose him to the liability of a nationwide campaign where, as noted, all the other stuff would be a drag. If it's true that the establishment was pushing Harris to pick Shapiro and she picked Walz instead, a) GOOD! and b) if anything, this election cycle needs to fucking teach us that we have got to stop going with the Conventional Wisdom Tee Em. Walz was already out there, he was already popular with the public/energizing the grassroots, AND he was the guy who coined the "Weird" attack line that is actually effective and organically popular against the Republicans and drives them batshit. So for Kamala to lean into that and take him as her running mate is... zomgz... smart, and I am not used to the Democrats playing smart and aggressive and not just passive-defensive. I don't understand. Wow.

Anyway, now watch the New York Times (and the others, lbr, but especially the NYT) desperately try to dig up scandalous stories about that time Walz didn't stop at the 4H booth at the county fair, or walked past someone without saying "Ope just gonna sneak by ya first" or some other terrible Midwestern sin, but fuck those guys. I am EXCITED I am ENERGIZED I am THRILLED. This is a GREAT new ticket that came together at incredibly short notice and completely changed the dynamics everywhere, Walz is gonna make JD Vance cry (unsure whether I want to see Harris demolish Trumpster or Midwestern Dad to turn the cranks on Weird Couchfucking Fascist Skidmark more, but both, both, both is good). LET'S GO GET THOSE WEIRD MOTHERFUCKERS, Y'ALL!!

HARRIS/WALZ 2024!

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair. 

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder. 

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking. 

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs. 

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk. 

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers. 

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself. 

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.” 

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims. 

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers. 

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper. 

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid. 

“What?” You whip your head around to her. 

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.” 

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.” 

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?” 

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it. 

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.  

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.” 

“Or gambling.” Emily adds. 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.” 

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles. 

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk. 

“I do not!” 

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans. 

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly.  “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity. 

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly. 

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?” 

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own. 

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought. 

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared. 

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.” 

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –” 

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward. 

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?” 

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.” 

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you. 

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?” 

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.” 

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?” 

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.” 

“Of course, Doctor Reid.” 

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.” 

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked. 

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.” 

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?” 

“No, we just –” 

“Hooked up.” You finish for him. 

“For a couple months, yeah.” 

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?” 

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.” 

“What did you call her?” 

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs. 

“Wow, who knew.” 

“What?” 

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders. 

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away. 

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile. 

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?” 

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over. 

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –” 

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily. 

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek. 

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back. 

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away. 

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss. 

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip. 

“What for?” You blink. 

“Kissing you.” 

“I kissed you.” 

“I kissed you back.” 

“And you should do it again.” 

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer. 

“It’s inappropriate.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“There’s paperwork.” 

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.” 

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest. 

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?” 

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects. 

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket. 

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot. 

“It’s kismet.” 

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.” 

“It is.” You say earnestly. 

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?” 

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second. 

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.” 

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?” 

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.” 

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.” 

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing. 

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you. 

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck. 

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core. 

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin. 

“I want you.” 

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.” 

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.” 

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?” 

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly. 

“I’ll take care of you.” 

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own. 

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment. 

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?” 

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie. 

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.” 

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately.  “I don’t wanna go slow.” 

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.” 

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.” 

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?” 

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager. 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?” 

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?” 

“Spencer,” you plead. 

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.” 

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more. 

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece. 

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips. 

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.” 

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more. 

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more. 

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him. 

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom. 

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands. 

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?” 

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw. 

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.” 

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember. 

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him. 

“I thought of you too.” You confess. 

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.” 

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.” 

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts. 

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him. 

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.  

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest. 

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed. 

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you. 

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back. 

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?” 

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action. 

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained. 

“You can. I want you to.” 

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word. 

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place. 

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.” 

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles. 

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit. 

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes. 

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap. 

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.” 

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…” 

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”  

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” 

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him. 

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.” 

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters. 

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you. 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle. 

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it. 

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs. 

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.” 

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.” 

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.” 

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head. 

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.” 

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match. 

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.” 

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan. 

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm. 

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters. 

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you. 

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face. 

“Are you okay?” He inquires. 

“I’m perfect.” 

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.” 

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window. 

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases. 

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?” 

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently. 

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.” 

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.” 

“Boo!” Emily exclaims. 

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!” 

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you. 

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns. 

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 2.5 of the major bracket

Propaganda:

For Eddie Brock and Venom:

I'm pretty sure its Canon in the comics and like, Canon adjacent in the 2nd movie??? Idk I just watched the first one sooo, anyways, this isn't propaganda i just couldn't remember if you said they needed to be Canon so I put what I rembered about that here, idk I'm proboboly just gonna send the propaganda in the ask box at a later date 

They eat people:) venom is an alien symbiote and Eddie is the host and they have melded together into one being. They care for and protect each other and are so intimately intwined they are only ever separated by force. Also they’re both absolute disasters and they periodically bite and eat the heads off their enemies. 

They eat people <3 

For Will and Hannibal:

Ive previously only heard the term "murder husbands" refer to hannigram so it feels flitting. The whole series culminated with a murder they did together bathing in blood. 

The show and ship that coined murder husbands. It’s in the text in s3 from a journalist side character. They do Many murders either together or as a message to each other. Usually this involves turning the dead body into an art piece. The show ends with them killing a guy together in a slo mo scene backed by porno music.

They're both batshit and manipulative.

ALRIGHT so they're not canonically together but it is HEAVILY implied and they have some sort of fucked up psychosexual obsession with each other. in the later parts of the show they start committing murder and cannibalism together and they're soooo unhinged but it's awesome

kill people for each other. maim each other. kill people together. most batshit insane metaphors. send each other to jail. ruin everyone’s lives. someone can probably say this better than me but these gay people are insane

Literally THE murder husbands. They kill for each other. They've tried to kill each other. They're canon in all but name, like the homoeroticism between these two is the driving force of the show.

one time hannibal folded a guy into an origami human heart

They are in love and they kill and eat people. They are called Murder Husbands in canon.

The original murder husbands (literally, that's not just their ship name, they get called that in canon)

The show begins with Will working for the FBI and trying to catch Hannibal, but because Hannibal is so intrigued by the way Will is able to see the world and the motives behind the killings so easily, it becomes a game of Hannibal isolating Will even more from the people around and seducing him to try and kill. By the time Will starts embracing the side of him that Hannibal sees, he starts oulling back and trying to distance himself so that when the time comes for Will to fully embrace himself and Hannibal, no one really suspects what they have planned. 

hannibal literally does murder as courtship and it works bc will is also a fucked up little guy

I'm actually quite offended they aren't included by default (joke). They are THE murder husbands!!!!!! (mod note: they should have been, but I wanted to see how many submissions they'd get. They got 19, making them a little more than 6% of total submission count).

do i have to say it. they literally get called murder husbands IN THE SHOW

There are 3201 works for Hannibal on ao3 tagged Murder Husbands. They are the ogs, they are the pioneers we owe it all to them.

THEE murder couple. You know it. I know it. They commit crimes at each other as courting and then commit crimes together and then fall off a cliff to wash up somewhere and live on to serve cunt. Get referred to as 'murder husbands' in canon. What more do you need

Hannigram were literally called Murder Husbands in canon, they are the og, they are THE blueprint. They were gay as hell and comitted so much murder so many crimes. THEY RAN OFF TO EUROPE TOGETHER.

[dimepdf]

★  𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝟓𝟎𝟓. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. jealousy is a terrible disease, and you and Eren are both suffering from a severe case of it.

✧. ┊    notes. back on the eren d rider train I need more fics of him BAD like there is a shortage of bad bitches that write for eren on my feed and I need that to be fixed real soon. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

✧. ┊    word count. 3.2k (23 min read).

✧. ┊    genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | slight eren/mikasa in the beginning | (fr)enemies | established relationship | hurt/comfort | miscommunication | misunderstandings | sexual tension | jealousy | post-break up | make up sex | porn with feelings | grinding | fingering | unprotected sex | cowgirl | riding | hair pulling | we ignore typos here | title inspired by this song.

EREN WAS CONVINCED you were batshit crazy, that would be the only reason why your brain would always find some new reason to push him away enough to have him chase after you like you had a pretty pink leash around his neck hooked to a collar with his name on it. 

You would always manage to push his buttons just enough to tip him off, and in return, you weren’t the type to just sit back and let some man yell at you cause he certainly was not your father nor your mother.

The arguments you two would be involved in usually led to very amazing angry sex, clearing out a grace period enough to last until the next time you chose to push his buttons.

Well, this time it was different—at least that was your claimed reasoning for telling your friends why you and Eren were on another one of your famous relationship breaks. 

This one happened so fast that Eren wasn’t even sure what the hell he was talking about until you stormed out of his apartment and blocked his number for an entire week, holding onto the smallest things that reminded him of your existence. 

Wincing every time he would see your post on your Instagram story all dressed up and going out with your friends looking so unfazed. Maybe this time it actually was different, and the thought of that scared the absolute shit out of Eren. The heavy feeling of the thought of you losing you left with him a constantly collapsing moping pit forming in his stomach.

It was settled between his friends that they wouldn't let him mope around his place alone any longer, tired of hearing and depressed, mentioning your name on his lips, convincing him enough to coax him out of his apartment littered with reminders of you to hang out at some house party.

What those said friends failed to mention was that you would be there as well, with about seventy people scattered from the front yard to the pool in the back with music raging so loud he could feel the vibration from where he sat lounging watching you from his seat on the back porch.

He was supposed to be having a good time, getting messed up enough to not remember your name. Yet there he was, sitting slouched a few feet away from you, his heart on his sleeve. 

A blunt caught between his lips, minding his business as best as he possibly could, but it was just so hard to believe that he could hear the familiar pitch of your laughter filtered through the music.

"Dude," Connie sighs, interrupting Eren’s growing annoyance, his attention yanking away from where you stood, hugging up a little too closely for comfort to the smirking Armin. 

Eren hands the blunt over with a groan, his legs spreading comfortably and shifting back to lean with his back against the patio chair.

With his head resting on the headrest pillow, he closes his eyes tightly, praying for his high to hit him like a truck so fucking soon, wishing for just one night where he wouldn't have to deal with his annoying emotions for you. "Shit, my bad man, I didn't even know that she would be here." 

Connie rests his hand on Eren’s shoulder, helping ground him back down to earth. "But hey, are you gonna be alright?" The question lingered in the stale air before Eren could process the rigid tone behind it, his eyes fluttering open to Connie eyeing down someone from across the yard with a knowing horny spark in his eye, knowing that his friend was a natural-born player and that it would be just so unfair to hold him back from his natural element.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead, man, I’ll be here." forcing a tight grin from his lips, Eren’s hand waving away his friend with a coaxing hand. "All alone.." he sighed under his breath once Connie had finally stalked away, leaving the dark-haired brunette to sit with his own flooding thoughts.

The sight in front of him making him feel as if he was witnessing a kamikaze from just a few steps away from how hard his heart was throbbing watching you completely ignore his existence as if you weren't just sprouting I love yous and kissing all over each other not even a few weeks ago.

He needs to move to get you out of his sight before the swallowing feeling can take up his entire mood and ruin his high. Stumbling around the large crowd of people, he parted through the crowd, finding the unknown kitchen counter that was decorated with enticingly labeled cheap liquor bottles and mixers that were calling his name. 

He hadn't even managed to get one cup down before the slush of his drink was met with the white of his graphic t-shirt, a curse hidden under his breath turning ready to spit the first insult on his mind he could spout from the large cloud of frustration festering from his annoyance only to be cut off. 

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, dude." His attacker was a very apologetic and cute woman, with short dark hair, warm olive skin, and a very bold red bra peeking through the white cropped cami she wore, catching his attention embarrassingly quick enough for him to forget that it was better to actually make eye contact when speaking to another person.

His first initial words were punched back into his throat, a lazy smile taking their place instead. "It's already, uh, the drink tasted like shit anyways." He nervously chuckled, like he couldn't really help the nervousness that waved over him standing in the presence of a pretty girl who had introduced herself quite cheerily as Mikasa. 

If you had told him a few hours ago when he first arrived that he would actually be having fun, let alone sitting with some random girl in his lap, Eren would have called you crazy, yet there he was genuinely grinning ear to ear face to face with Mikasa, who had made it her personal mission to make Eren have a much better night than he was. 

The two getting awfully close in such a short span of time, sitting down clinging onto each other, sprouting out about absolutely nothing important but the genuine want to talk to each other, not to mention that It helps that Eren absolutely finds her stunning, their bodies sharing warmth sitting so close, it was only natural for the flushed feeling to take over with the rake of her nails tangling in his shaggy mullet.

He couldn't even use drinking as an excuse, babysitting the same drink she had remade for him as an apology for spilling the last one. There was really no real reason why he had suddenly leaned in and caught his lips against hers so hungrily. 

It doesn't help that Mikasa kisses him back with the same amount of eager roughness, practically straddling him on top of his lap at this point, the two heavily making out in the open.

With hands wandering, Eren reaches out a hold around her hips, his mind betraying him just a bit, not being able to fully push away the comparison to your figure. The thought makes him react with a wince, parting from the kiss with his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

Mikasa leans back, pushing his hair from his face while letting out a breathy fit of giggles, not discovering the hidden uncomfortable shift in Eren’s behavior. It wasn't her fault, he couldn't blame the girl for him being so caught up with his ex to the point where even when he was kissing other women, he couldn't help but get his mind off of you.

"If you want, we could go upstairs." Mikasa whispers in his ear, leading a shiver up his spine with a flash of sexual excitement. He is pleased at the end of her offer, locked in with the peck of her lips against his jawline.

The offer is absolutely knee-jerking, and if it were any other situation, Eren probably would have let this really pretty girl he just met jump his bone, but all the confidence that had been built up from the night had instantly drained the second he had caught your gaze from across the room. 

Both staring at each other pointedly, Eren’s lashes fluttered under your unflinched, hard glare as Mikasa continued to litter kisses with the promises of hickeys around his collarbone.

He wanted to feel so smug, wanted to use the new attention as a way to finally get back at you for making him feel the way that he felt watching you dance with Armin, but the revenge just didn't feel right, and his mood soured further at the thought of using some poor innocent girl to get back at you.

The intense eye contact is cut off by Mikasa bringing her face closer to his, seeking out another kiss. Eren squeezes his eyes closed, wanting nothing more but to get the looping image of you and Armin out of his damned head.

"What do you say?" being reminded in a soft whisper of the intimate question still in the air from earlier, the creep of her fingers dawning down his chest and rubbing with intention at the crotch of his jeans, Eren grabbing her wandering hand before it could do any more active damage.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn’t right now," Eren sheepishly responds, his eyes searching for any ounce of rejection on her features,trying to shake the sight of you from his attention.

Mikasa doesn't seem all that hurt, if anything, she nods her head in understanding, taking no for an answer without another word, pulling her hands away and wrapping them around his shoulders instead, her head turning enough to show that she knows his attention is entirely too spent on someone else.

"What a player," she chuckles knowingly, not quite catching a glance at you, yet her eyes still scan around the room. "Something tells me I should go get another drink before whoever you're looking for comes and bites off my head." And just like that, Eren's perfect distraction slips through his fingers, and he's left alone once more, kicked back with the same emotions he had coming into the party.

His attention is rudely pulled back towards you as you appear in front of him. It was like you were hunting, searching for the perfect moment when he had his guard down to strike.

You placed your hand on your hips as he dared to stare up at you through his lashes, his body too at ease with the disappointed expression twisted on your face. "Are you fucking drunk right now?"

"Well, is this not a party?" Eren replies almost too easily, his tone has deepened enough to get a shifted, sneering reaction from you at the snappy comeback. Watching your movements a bit too intensely as your arms crossed over your chest, Eren didn't bother to look away from how plump your breasts looked in the pretty little crop top you managed to squeeze them into.

"I was going to ask if you wanted a ride home since I saw Connie dip with someone, but excuse me, I see that you're too busy tongue-fucking any random slut willing to give it out tonight, huh?" Your insults dig deep, even with the drooling sight of your tight-skirted figure dancing right in front of him. Eren sucked in a breath at the acknowledgement.

"You broke up with me." He spoke straight to your thighs, his tongue tracing over the bottom of his lip now that he could see just how good you looked tonight. All dressed up with your makeup done, his heart didn't want to imagine what you were hoping to get into if his presence wasn't there to ruin the mood. "Remember?"

"Fine, walk your ass home." Rolling your eyes and storming away, knowing that he was in the right, Eren let out a sigh before sleazily trailing behind your grumbling every step.

Watching the sway of your hips as you walk in front of him all the way to your car, slumping into the passenger side without any word even as you continued to have a one-sided conversation about how much of an asshole he was for not saying bye to his little girlfriend he was kissing on even though Eren was pretty sure Mikasa would be more understanding than what you were giving her credit for. 

The drive home is tense, the soft pitter of rain hitting the windshield wipers as the streetlights leech orange and white colors through your tinted windows. The radio played lowly, not loud enough to recognize the soft melody of something playing but not quite low enough to have you both sitting in complete silence.

"Are you guys talking?" Eren’s voice is still deep, almost cushioning from how gently he posed the question, almost as if he were so loud that he would be afraid to scare you away.

Your fingers clench around the leather of the wheel, eyes glancing away from the road for just a split second to give him a knitted-brow look. "What, who are you talking about?"

Eren feels like he’s back in middle school again, fidgeting with the bottom hem of his shirt, all nervous around you. "You and Armin, you guys looked pretty close at the party." He could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue, his head leaning back on the headrest, looking how desperate he had to look, practically pining over you with his broken-hearted expression.

"I should ask the same for you then." You ignore him, reaching to dial the music just a bit louder, not wanting to sit in silence if it meant opening up a question and answer panel between just him and you. 

The statement hurts, both physically and emotionally. Eren gets reminded of the pit still forming in his stomach.

The frowning emotion threatening a knot in his throat, having to swallow down the absolute word vomit of apologizes and begging he has threatened to spill from his throat in your honor, "Well, I’ve missed you." Was all that he could manage before he had to physically turn himself away from you, using the pressing cold glass to help aid the burning firepit of emotions he had covering the rest of his reasonability in dark, thick sud.

You didn't react, at least not in line of sight, even if you heard him, you hadn’t shown any acknowledgement of his heartbreaking confession. Not even when you pulled into his driveway had you bothered to give him a glance other than the action of you sliding off your seatbelt and letting him sit in the car for a breath before he was trialing after you once more.

Trudging through his apartment, even with you inside the home walls, you still felt a sense of lonesomeness. "Ren…" 

"Do you wanna come to bed?" Your voice sounds through the halls, following back to his bedroom, the door left ajar enough to see you lying in the place right where he had thought you belonged, blankets lifted open, enticing him to lie down next to you with a sobering small smile.

Crawling under the blankets right next to you without another word, cuddling against your chest, wrapping his arms around the front of your torso, and hugging close enough for you to lean with your back resting against the mattress as his face rubbed against the plush of your falling and rising cushioning breast.

"I’ve…missed you too." You lowly admit, using your acrylics to softly comb through the back of his hair, easing back his tension farther with a small kiss pecked on the top of his forehead.

The sound of the blanket shifting as it carries with Eren’s movements, his arms ankling at both sides of your head, holding himself up from pressing you with his entire body weight as he slots himself between your part legs.

Your fingers twining tighter into his scalp as he leans down for a kiss, the muffle of his moan pressing against your seeking lips, letting you slip your tongue inside of his mouth, adding to the rising heated makeout session.

The pace never lets up, growing with more eagerness. Eren frees one of his arms, letting his hands wander down, squeezing your thigh part by the bend of the knee, and having your skirt ride up unwearable to your waist.

Knuckling aside the lace of your panties away from your pussy, he used the pad of his thumb to tease at your clit only adding sinking two digits into the equation. Your cunt welcomed them with a greedy buck at the buck of your hips against his touch, kicking off his jeans awkwardly.

Eren is already sweating from the grouling press of his hard cock miserably untouched against your thigh, grinding shamelessly against your leg while his fingers pistoned with a lewd wet squelch from your coated arousal inside of you.

Pausing only when your fist tugs with a knot full of his hair tangled between your knuckles, your other hands push him away by the press of your palm against his chest.

Switching positions with Eren almost a little too obentaintly with you sitting straddled on his lap in an all too familiar position, you look angelic on top of him with your hair dawning over your face knocking out of his daze with a hiss at the slow teasing feeling of your fingers wrapping around the length of his cock and pressing his tip at the folds of your entrance. 

"I’ve missed you." The soft brush of your coo fans against his face from how close you were, and with your noses brushing, you both react breathlessly to the feeling of you lowering yourself down on his cock. The thrusting clench of his hips living up from the mattress and intruding deeper inside of you left him whimpering under your touch. "I’ve missed you so, so much, Ren."

The pace of your bouncing hips is relentless, starting at your own brutal pace and grounding yourself with heavy palms pressed against his chest.

Eren couldn't do anything but lie back and whine against your mouth, as you used him for your own release from the mental war he had to not end the fun for which he had been craving all week. Whimpering at the amazing feeling he missed so badly at your pussy squeezing against him so snuggly as if your body had just been made for him so perfectly. 

Eren’s hands help guide the grind of your hips as your muscles tense and tremble on top of him suddenly, your body going rigid, hugging your collapsed body against his hold, begging a string of nonsense as your cunt continues to milk him until his very last drop.

His hips don't bother halting, switch positions as he lays on top to help with his lazy, slow strokes, listening to your soft whines as you hug him closer to you, wrapping your trembling legs against his hips and pulling him as deep as you possibly could.

“I missed you too baby.”

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[yogerbopen]

I had to talk about this at some point because I'm so deeply in love with it- anyone who's into shuake, please PLEASEE go read "you have a beautiful smile underneath that mask" by saposaki on ao3 it drives me batshit insane how good it is and the characterization of both akira and akechi just GETS ME. and in the authors notes saposaki expresses it's their first fic EVER and like what the absolute fuck it's so good!!

[annoyinglandmagazine]

‘more dangerous and less wise’ I’m sorry WHAT!? Is Tolkien seriously trying to tell us that the freaking Sindar are the feral ones out of all the Elven races? After the entire First Age? As for more dangerous, Galadriel is still here. You know, Feanor 2.0 the only one that actually survived. Using the Elven metric for being batshit insane yes, Mirkwood is weird, but not swearing blood oaths, setting everything on fire, murdering everyone in sight, telling the gods to go fuck themselves, challenging gods to one on one combat insane.

The line of Oropher isn’t even Thingol levels of mental. They’ve never even touched a silmaril or a ring of power! They’re downright sensible by first age standards! They’re arrogant sure, they have low self preservation instincts and seem pretty xenophobic (dwarf stuff). Also depending on your point of view there might be colonist undertones. All of which is just toned down versions of the First Age Sindar. They probably have developed weird customs from living in the murder forest so long and being pretty isolated but there’s nothing to indicate they’re all that bad. I mean they’re still alive and they’re holding on to their kings at a relatively steady rate.

I absolutely agree with takes going around that this is some sort of deliberate protection technique they have to ward off trespassers and that Thranduil is sitting there in his cave coming up with rumours to spread about all the messed up things they do to people. Because in the book they seem kind of chill? And this becomes a million times more funny to me if he bases the rumours off stuff he heard about from Elrond.

As in ‘Yeah we totally eat giant spider meat, that’s definitely a thing we do,’ and everyone’s reacting as horrified and scared or not falling for it while Elrond’s believing every word and just looks sympathetic, ‘Aww you guys have food shortages? I hear you, supplies were pretty shit during all that destruction of an entire continent in the War of Wrath. You know if you wanted more options I wouldn’t recommend raw orc meat before you build up a tolerance but I can defo show you how to butcher them properly!’ Thranduil just staring back at him like ‘Fuck you. I was trying to make up some story to scare children at night with, you guys actually did this shit? How hard is it to come up with something you fucking Noldor haven’t done already?!’

And also: Thranduil proceeds to take out a notepad, ‘Ok so tell me again about what the kinslayers did to interrogate those prisoners?’ And Elrond replies, ‘Oh, that wasn’t Maglor and Maedhros, that was a story about Gil Galad’s army in the War of Wrath.’ Thranduil ‘I’m sorry WHAT the actual fuck.’ Elrond nodding understandingly ‘Too much for the Third Age?’ Thranduil rapidly taking notes ‘No it’s perfect keep it coming.’

[inklore]

pretty when you cry.

— stepbro!patrick zweig x f!reader

premise: you hate him. hate how messed up the both of you are. can't stand how the two of you have been weened off of spoonfuls of poison force fed to you by your parents and the only antidote you've ever been able to stomach has been each other.

contents: messed up step sibling with benefits dynamic, p in v, plot and backstory heavy a lil, abusive parents, oral, marking, blood mention, dirty talk, degradation, dacryphilia | wc: 1.4k+

note: the demons i have inside of me when i think of this man are absolutely batshit and i should seek help. enjoy!

“What’re you gonna do?” The look on his face is aggravating. Obscene in the way it makes something burn beneath your rib cage and singe its way down between your thighs.

Your eyes ache from your efforts to not let the tears that have gathered at your ducts fall onto your cheeks. To roll down only for him to mock—lick away with the tongue that peaks out from his lips as he smirks. 

“You’re going to cry? Really? I thought you were better than that.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You can see the puff of air that ghosts through the cold night air as he laughs under his breath. Pulling out a cigarette, inhaling twice before it’s lit, and releasing the smoke from his lungs into your face. 

“No more tough girl act, huh?” 

“No more ass kissing for money, huh?” 

This time, his laugh is deeper. The look of arrogance on his face more menacing with the way the street light is beating down on the two of you. 

Family dinner. 

What a fucking joke. 

It barely took five minutes before Patrick was getting into it with his father, and your mother had a mouthful of words to berate you. You hadn’t known why they even invited you, let alone Patrick, to this wannabe Partridge family shitshow. 

Patrick’s father, having washed his hands with his son long ago, finding zero use in someone who wasn’t making him money. 

And your mother barely able to look at you without disappointment written all over her face because she can’t live vicariously through you anymore. The day your athletic career ended, so did her pretending that she actually cared about you.

“Shitty parents build character,” someone once told you. Had patted you on the back and gave you that tight lipped smile people always did when they didn’t want to pity you, but also had no idea what to say to the shit end of the stick you were dealt. 

A smile you’d love more than to smash your fist into. Over and over and over. 

It’s really no surprise the way you and Patrick turned out. No surprise, the two of you have been at each other's throats since day one. Your parents turned the two of you into their own little competitive rivals they could bet against, give love and money to when the other came out on top. When one was knocked down and the other was spitting blood with their fingers curled in the asphalt. 

Which is why it was also no surprise when Patrick found his way into your room one night. No surprise when your face was pushed into your pillow, his mouth at the back of your ear daring you to scream his name loud enough for your parents to hear. 

“Let them know who’s winning, baby.” 

And it’s no surprise how the nightly visits turned into rough encounters in the kitchen with you bent over the counter, your mother within earshot in the other room, or the countless hookups in his father's car. 

If you had good parents, maybe they would have noticed. 

Maybe your mother would have questioned you more about why your knees were all skinned up. And you would have to tell her some lie about tripping during practice when, in reality, Patrick had you on your knees in the gravel, gagging on his cock, before he fucked you against the chain link fence when he visited you at university one night. 

But instead, your mother grabbed a handful of your hair and told you not to lose her money. 

And while, yeah, you did hate Patrick. Have always hated Patrick—maybe even a stronger word that portrays the burning sensation you get in your chest and the urge you have to pick and chew at your own skin, or his—when he’s around.

There’s still a part of you that’s almost grateful that he ruined your tennis career. 

Fucked it up for you only for him to become a waste himself. 

You’ll never tell him that, though. 

Especially not with the sickening look he keeps giving you now. 

The end of his cigarette put out against the brick wall his shoulder leans against. You can smell the nicotine when he steps closer to you. Your nostrils filled with the cheap cologne you hate actually works for him. 

The tip of his nose ghosts against your cheek when he whispers in your ears, “if you want a real reason to cry, just ask, baby.” 

You hate him. 

You hate how causally cruel he can be. How it’s easier for him to bite you in bitterness and animosity than it was for him to pretend he isn’t repulsed by wanting you—just as you are him. 

Except your bites sting and mark up his pride until he’s half way across the country trying to prove himself, if only to make you bite him harder. 

But what you hate most of all is how good it feels. 

How his words make goosebumps prick your bare legs. How when he pulls back to look at you, his mouth centimeters from your parted lips, he’s blurry from the tears that have yet to fall. The tears that your mother caused. Tears that would taste so much sweeter if they were coming from him. 

Because of him. 

Your cheeks stained way too many nights with tears and come from Patrick. 

There’s a silent communication that happens when your scowl wavers and his eyes flash to your mouth. A confirmation not needing words when you feel his fingers run up the side of your thigh, getting just below your skirt before he’s gripping the back of it to pull your thighs apart. The indent of his fingers hard and throbbing when he’s let go and pushed his palm around and up to cup you through your panties. 

The nicotine on his tongue pushing its way through your open mouth as his lips feather yours as he speaks, a hitch of your breath when his index finger runs along the wet patch on your underwear, makes his mouth pull up. 

“God, why are you so fucking pathetic?” The pad of his finger pushes against your clothed clit. Your mouth twitching open in a moan you refuse to let slip out. “I bet you’ve been wet all night, trying not to rub your greedy pussy against your seat in hopes I’d let you have a taste of my cock tonight.” He smirks, “no wonder mommy’s disappointed in you.” 

His mouth finally presses to yours just as the tears left in your eyes fall. When his words make your body collide into his like a moth to the flame that’s going to burn it alive. Kill it. Relieve them of a bitter, shitty life. 

Your underwear is ruined by the time Patrick has it pulled down your thighs. Torn and stretched out, marking bruises and rashes into your skin that remind you of the nights he purposely made your skin bleed just to lick his tongue over it and smirk when your mother yelled at you the next morning for not looking like her perfect show pony. 

Only for the two of you to meet in the hall wet, hard, fucking against the wall that displayed your seemingly perfect family photos. 

Your nails dig into the brick wall. Bring dirt under them and skin the beds of them when you wrap them around Patrick’s hand against your throat. 

The sound of his hips slapping against your ass as he fucks you hard and fast fills the alleyway. The pain of your pussy never having the opportunity to truly accommodate his size—to prepare for it—is exhilarating. Your inner thighs coated in your own slick. Your own shame. Your own pain that Patrick pulls out of you, causes you, eases into you, and adores you for just as much as he hates you for. 

“I hate you.” You choke out, swallow your moan, and hold it in until tears run down your cheeks. 

He groans against your cheek, “yeah? Fuck, say it again. Tell me how much you hate me. How much you hate how you can’t finger this little cunt without thinking of me even after all these years.” You can feel your knees grind against the brick; you know you’ll have scraps. You know you’ll press your finger into them for days, weeks, while they heal, and you think of Patrick. Fuck yourself from how wet the thought of him always makes you. 

Cry into your pillow in pleasure at how much you hate him. Hate yourself. Hate how fucked up the two of you are—how the two of you need this fucked up mess in order to live, breathe, come. 

Fuck, you’ve missed him. 

You clench your eyes shut as a hoarse cry is strangled from your lungs by his hands, cock, mouth against your jaw. 

“No one cries as pretty as you do, baby.” 

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Kiss-eki: Dear to Me

*Kicks open door*

SURPRISE BITCHES! I am several days late and hundreds of dollars short, but I did finally *finally* decide to watch Kiseki: Dear to Me in an attempt to add one more show to the Completed Watchlist for 2023. This was a show I was planning on watching a bit earlier, probably closer to the time it was actually airing, because I'd heard it was ridiculous and thought it would be a good show to have on in the background during work. But @ginnymoonbeam had my best interests at heart and told me that I Absolutely Could Not Do That because There Was Body Language Dammit!

If I have not made it clear, THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME, GINNY!

Kiseki was absolutely wild and completely insane if you try to describe a single aspect of the plot whatsoever, but I would have given it a ten off sheer entertainment value if it wasn't for those back to back fake outs with Chen Yi being shot and Fan Ze Riyu being stabbed. But, I digress. I have only seen three things from Taiwan at this point, but those three shows have provided quite a lot of evidence to the claim that Taiwan is nearly unparalleled in their ability to portray domesticity and physical chemistry. I have also heard that Taiwan has a tendency to create content on more taboo subjects, and Kiseki was my first forray in to that side of Taiwan considering Ai Di and Chen Yi are brothers and Bai Zong Yi is a minor when he starts his relationship with Fan Ze Riu. I think both of these subjects were very smartly handled in their set up and their structure. I normally hate the like, adoptive siblings falling in love thing, cause like...that's your sibling, but they don't give us a lot if any flashback to these boys growing up together, and they don't share last names, or really call their adoptive father Dad, so there are quite a number of abstractions in that dynamic that means this is the first time I didn't have a squick about it. And having Fan Ze Riu trying so desperately not to succumb to his feelings for Bai Zong Yi and to put that distance between them, to have Bai Zong Yi be living alone and also be 17 so he's pretty close to legal age, and then to have Bai Zong Yi be the pursuer in their relationship both serve extremely well in making that relationship feel responsibly handled.

I have not been in the tags, so forgive me if this has already been done, but I have not stopped thinking about the first kiss between Ai Di and Chen Yi or the first kiss between Bai Zong Yi and Fan Ze Riu since I saw them and I simply *must* do a scene/body language breakdown about both of them. God, it's good to be back!

[side note: I was going to split this up with funny titles like Cat Boy and Mr. Sulky, but I realized that actually could apply to both couples...]

Ai Di and Chen Yi

Okay FIRST OF ALL, I just want to say that I love Ai Di, I love how ruthless and blood thirsty he is and how incredibly dangerous and scary he could be...if he wasn't so easy to pick up and carry around like a football, or like...a feral, hissing kitten. I am going to focus mostly on the first kiss that Chen Yi initiates with Ai Di because holy shit was there so much complex emotion and reaction packed in to that pretty small moment, but before I do that I am contractually obligated to acknowledge how fucking brilliant it is to show how much/how well Ai Di and Chen Yi know each other, by having Ai Di torture Chen Yi for information by threatening to feed Chen Yi incredibly spicy baby corn AND TO HAVE THAT TACTIC WORK. And to show how much Chen Yi tolerates by having him easily get out of the restraints and tie Ai Di up when he gets bored. Fucking incredible character choice to show how absolutely batshit Ai Di is, fucking incredible relationship choice to show how well Ai Di knows Chen Yi, and fucking incredible choice to use for a call back later. Also, fuck this show for that birthday cake scene! Brutal.

Okay. That said:

You know Ai Di has not for one second stopped loving Chen Yi, and now he is being met with some actual interest from Chen Yi. Chen Yi is full reciprocating what Ai Di has wanted for so long and if this were a typical BL with more simplestic characterization, we would have gotten the moment where Ai Di just melts in to it, fully lets himself have it. Accepts that Chen Yi has woken up, gotten with the program, and is ready to be in a relationship with him. And to be honest, that is what I was expecting. Ai Di has been such a loud and obvious simp for Chen Yi that I thought for a moment he would be the kind of person to let himself have it. To not question it too hard, especially because he is young and impulsive. So imagine my surprise when I got this reaction from him instead:

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Ai Di likes to challenge, likes to push buttons, likes to press. And he starts this scene doing just that. He is on his way to tucking Chen Yi in to bed (folding the edge of the bed spread over him because Chen Yi is drunk off his ass and too heavy for Ai Di to manhandle under the covers. But the second that Chen Yi starts simping over his Boss again, Ai Di stops performing any level of care for Chen Yi, and you can see this little change in his face where he gets annoyed and actually undoes his little moment of care and pulls the bedspread back off of Chen Yi and then he postures and he’s trying to act tough, and he’s needling intentionally, and all of these things where he is trying to be antagonistic to Chen Yi because that is the only way that Ai Di really knows how to express his emotions and he’s butt hurt about Chen Yi once against obsessing over someone Ai Di knows he can’t have when he is right there. 

Now, Ai Di gets manhandled a lot by Chen Yi and while he isn’t able to break out of it, he does very often struggle/fight back to get out of Chen Yi’s grip when he’s been baby carried away from a scene like a sack of potatoes. Which is why I do think Ai Di is giving in to his own feelings a bit here because he…doesn’t do that. He lets Chen Yi pull him closer, he lets Chen Yi push him up against the wall. And he’s still needling but it’s all bark, no bite. When he starts calling Chen Yi impotent his face softens looking up at him. 

And then Chen Yi goes in for the kiss and Ai Di’s eyes go wide, you can see an entire internal monologue running through his head. I am fairly confident there are some what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck’s going through his head when Chen Yi first kisses him. 

gif by @khaotungsfirst

There is a moment, just a moment so quick where Ai Di kisses back, where his heart gets the better of his judgment and he lets himself *have it* for *just* a second, and then his brain snaps back almost immediately and he bites Chen Yi and pushes him away. 

And honestly, I do not understand how actors work, because Ai Di’s face twitches. How the fuck does Louis do that?! He’s out of breath, and his mouth is agape, and he looks horrified, and heartbroken, and confused, but maybe a little hopeful. Like he won’t let himself believe that Chen Yi would actually do this. Like he is thinking Chen Yi is doing this out of pity, or just to shut him up, or mess with him. Because Ai Di messes with Chen Yi all the time.  This is what Ai Di wants. He wants Chen Yi, but now that he is face to face with the possibility he does not have the ability to believe in it. 

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

And in a very rare occurrence he listens to Chen Yi when Chen Yi tells him to get out of his room. The gears are definitely turning, but he simply cannot believe it, and it is so fascinating to me thinking about all these little microexpressive moments we get from Ai Di later on in the show that he really does not believe that Chen Yi kissing him in Episode 6 was Chen Yi actually admitting feelings, because every time that Ai Di tries something like torturing Chen Yi with spicy baby corn, or flirting to try to get Chen Yi to be uncomfortable or to back off, he reacts with genuine confusion when Chen Yi flirts back. 

Case in point: 

gif by @25shadesoffebruary

gif by @shijiujun

Bai Zong Yi and Fan Ze Riu First Kiss

It’s really interesting for me to compare this kiss to the Ai Di and Chen Yi kiss because they feel like completely mirrored (read: reversed) reactions. Where Ai Di leans in to his kiss for a moment for a moment and then forces himself to push away, preventing further intimacy, Fan Ze Rui forces himself to push away for a moment and then leans in to it, allowing the intimacy to proceed.

gif by @alejunsu

The set up is incredible, and in my opinion, foreshadows the fake amnesia plot in that Ze Rui is absolutely laser focused on his task (treating Zong Yi’s wounds) and intentionally ignoring everything else because he knows that it is irresponsible for him to initiate a relationship with a seventeen year old. Zong Yi is the first to lean in and go for a kiss, and he lingers at a distance that is respectful but with obvious intent for as long as it takes Ze Rui to look up and notice. There is a split second where Ze Rui’s eyes flit down to Zong Yi’s lips, and then he puts himself right back on task. Zong Yi is not to be dissuaded and goes in for the kiss again. Ze Rui notices, and grabs at Zong Yi’s shoulder to stop him, furrowing his brow in what I would consider confusion and focus, but once again his eyes betray him and he looks back at Zong Yi’s lips. This time without looking away, so Zong Yi continues, leaning in slowly and Ze Rui is drawn in at this point, he is frozen there, he isn’t trying to disengage from the inevitable anymore, unable to rebel against his own desire. 

gif by @alejunsu

Their lips meet, and to me it looks like Ze Rui is shocked, like his brain has short circuited and he doesn’t know where to go from here. It’s like his body is just reacting and reacting before his brain can catch up with the responsibility. He kisses back before his brain has really processed what is happening, and then he knows he shouldn’t be doing this so he tries to push away in the most half-hearteded attempt to be responsible, and a second later he’s abandoned the effort and started engaging more enthusiastically in the kiss. 

I do not fucking know how Hsu Kai does it because I swear to god Fan Riyu was cycling through about a hundred different emotions in this one moment and they were all acting against his physical reaction to the kiss. The way his arm goes out to Bai Zong Yi's shoulder to try to keep physical distance between the two of them, while he is having a full out internal war with himself? Holy fucking shit. It’s really like his brain is going “is this actually happening? Shit yes it is I have to- fuck it” 

gif by @maxescheibechlinichacheli

And at the start of his active participation in the kiss he is still not letting himself have it. I think he is still stuck on the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, and as a result he pushes Zong Yi back so he can see his face, study it. All it takes is for Bai Zong Yi to go back in yet again to continue their kiss, and then it’s all over for Fan Ze Rui. He’s all in. His hand goes to Zong Yi’s face, to his neck, and before we know it he is pulling himself in to Zong Yi’s lap from the floor so  smoothly. 

Reunion Sex 

I initially was only going to focus on the Ep 6 Ai Di x Chen Yi and the Episode 7 Zong Yi x Ze Rui moments in this post, but I am so in love with the structure of the reunion sex scene that I absolutely had to talk about it. 

Again, I do not understand how actors work because Hsu Kai just knocks it out of the motherfucking park. I love that when Fan Ze Rui rouses from sleep and starts muttering under his breath and engagin with Zong Yi, you don’t need any visual confirmation from the story whatsoever to understand that Ze Rui definitely has actual dreams of reuniting with Bai Zong Yi. And you don’t need that additional confirmation because of how Hsu Kai sells the talking in his sleep moment here when he’s riding on the pills and alcohol. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He blinks through heavy lids and reaches out toward Zong Yi instantly, his smile is absent and dreamy, and unrestrained in a way that genuinely impresses me because I feel like it is hard to pull off acting the kind of drowsy you are when you’re still trapped in the limbo between wake and sleep when you’re not actually experiencing it. Ze Rui’s touches are unrestrained, his eyes are barely opened under their own weight, and he’s loose and droopy still when Bai Zong Yi lifts him in to the hug. Ze Rui’s bones look heavy and his muscles look loose, and he’s not really able to maintain his own structure as a result. Settling back flat pretty quickly have Zong Yi has released him from his embrace. 

And then the light changes and the setting gets dreamier despite the fact that Ze Riu is actually starting to wake up, being reminded this is real, Zong Yi is real with grounded touches that we see in close up. And I am so sad we don’t get to see Ze Rui’s face at the exact moment of the scene when it clicks for him that this is real, because it happens during the close up of the hands (which I am also fine with :D). But when we pull back out into the wider shot, Ze Rui is already sobbing against Bai Zong Yi’s cheek. And Ze Rui tries his damndest to be his normal jokey, smiley self once he knows what is happening is real, because that’s who Zong Yi loves, and that’s who Zong Yi deserves after all the pain he’s suffered for Ze Rui but instead he just…breaks. Y’all I lost it at the way all the strength just falls away from Ze Rui’s voice when he says “kiddo”. How small he sounds when he says he’s sorry. The meekness in his voice during his own apology speaks volumes for how important it is, how much weight it carries. Because Ze Rui knows what happened to Zong Yi over the past four years. He knows all of it. He knows that Zong Yi went to prison to protect him, he knows that Zong Yi got attacked there, he knows that Zong Yi has memory problems now because of it. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He has all of this guilt that is driving the way he interacts with Bai Zong Yi in their interlude here. By the way: “It’s been 1,573 days. Did it hurt?” is joining my list of Incredibly Devastating Lines. And it’s not just because of the line itself, it’s not just because of the way Bai Zong Yi shakes his head no. It’s especially devastating to me because right before Ze Rui asks the question, he slides his hand up to the back of Bai Zong Yi’s head and massages it a little bit with his thumb, like he’s trying to rub at an ache in hopes of getting rid of the pain. It is in no way the focus of the scene, and the action is mostly cut off and regailed to the edge of the screen, but jesus fucking christ it did wonders for me in terms of selling the scene. 

Anyway, Ginny was right, the body language was incredible, and I’m glad I didn’t watch this live or else I’d have gotten zero sleep writing essays every day of the week about some of these scenes

[madelee]

How I like to imagine the ZaDr dynamic. How they sift from enemies to something more. And what I fucking love about ZaDr.

Some thoughts.

Zim and Dib, two emotionally neglected kids. Having little to no friends or any emotional support system… They became the primary attachment figures for each other: Based on them being enemies this relationship/development… it’s bound to be very complicated and messy.

There are various emotions mixed up in their dynamic. The initial hatred, frustration, and antagonism because they literally are enemies… but also the feelings of bonding, caring, appreciation, respect, and understanding. Then when getting older, also attraction, passion, and all those fuzzy feelings get mixed in.

But essentially, all the positive emotions that one develops and gets to experience with a close person like love, adoration, connection, tenderness, compassion, or simply joy… all those also get mixed up with the ‘negative’ ones.

The brain quite literally connects feelings of affection and connection with violence, aggression, cruelty, abuse, and brutality. This is trauma bonding, reward-based learning, and positive conditioning.

Them being obsessive and excessive as a fundamental part of their core personality only adds as a multiplier.

When this happens in a critical life phase (being young and in adolescence), having nearly no other positive influences in life and being neglected (emotionally especially), this connection the brain made will get so deeply internalized and won’t ever truly go away.

It could also connect to your sexuality and all that.

(There are real-life equivalencies)

What I’m getting at is, all this makes just so much sense!

This dynamic and their relationship is super complex and nuanced because of this.

Their relationship is incredibly intense and yes totally toxic but also compassionate.

Them fluctuating between high psychological distress/tension (hating, fighting, obsessing, loving, being in denial about your existence, generally trauma responses e.g., through neglect, loneliness, abandonment) and then them experiencing the sweet release through the aspects of their dynamic (connection, closeness, intimacy) as mentioned.

This stuff becomes quite simply addictive to someone.

This is why they can get crazy shit feral/hardcore with each other and also feel pleasure while doing so.

Like cutting each other up (or open), taunting, fighting, beating each other...

But because I’m a sucker for ambivalence and stark contrast, I like to imagine them being very, very cute with each other as well (occasionally even without showing the bad stuff while being cute), still toxic, still abusing and batshit crazy but absolutely meaning everything to each other and deeply caring.

Fluffy but in an obsessive and excessive way.

They will always somewhat be mean to each other and never shy to argue, even if just in a teasing and more lighthearted manner.

This is their love language after all.

This is how they show they care, and it’s what they know.

Also, this is just how they are personality-wise: thick-headed, intense people with strong opinions and even stronger egos.

And let’s not forget about stupidness, dorkyness, and comedy sprinkled in.

ZaDr is a fantastic way to deep dive into complex inner psychological human workings and I love exploring this.

(I love love love intense emotions.)

It’s even comforting in a way, if you ask me.

Hate and love are so close for a reason.

It’s the most intense we can feel.

And I mean, I guess we all (or many of us) can somehow relate to not liking or even hating a close one (even if only sometimes). But when a real deep bond is established with someone and when affection is also part of your connection (even if only sometimes), this stuff just doesn’t go away. Toxic relationships are messy and certainly not easy nor black and white. You just understand this emotion… of how complicated you can feel about someone, and what complexity this can bring with it.

Note that, this is how I like to imagine it. One can have a totally different perspective on it and this is valid as well!

Also this is romanticized, fiction and reality operate differently. Cognitive dissonance baby.

[sn4pe]

absolute WORST severus snape takes you've seen?

gonna organize these from Batshit Horrible to Mildly Irksome

- “James Potter wrote the notes in the HBP potions textbook and Snape stole it”. saw it in a youtube comment and. what

- “Snape is an incel” does he blame all women for his problems? does he hold misogynistic views? does he do misogynistic things? no. just because he had weird history with a woman doesn’t make him a fucking incel bye ppl r so weird for this take.

- Louis Garrel as a faceclaim. who coined this, i just wanna talk. don’t mind the gun in my hand. i just wanna talk i just wanna talk. no cuz this shit has done IRREPARABLE damage to my pinterest i can’t find good snape fcs without being bombarded with louis garrel images (i’m being so dramatic but i HATE HIM) HE DOES NOT LOOK LIKE SEVERUS SNAPE AT ALL

- That he and the marauders’ thing was a “rivalry”. A 4 against 1 is not a rivalry. Just admit your faves are bullies it is 1000% okay to like antagonists.

- that he “deserved” what happened in the SWM chapter. idc what awful shit he believed at the time, he was FIFTEEN. he was a CHILD and anyone who doesn’t understand that is likely a child themselves

- that he’s “greasy because of the potions fumes” no bc then everyone would be greasy after potions class and it would be mentioned. severus was a severely neglected child. he never got into the habit of properly bathing himself and that carried on into adulthood.

- when people snatch his entire character and personality and everything and push it onto regulus, then claim to hate snape but loveee regulus black. like bro you just gave him snape’s entire arc word for word but now suddenly bc it’s regulus it’s a good redemption arc? bffr

- every single time he’s ever been mentioned in that rlly popular fanfiction All The Young Dudes. actually every single take in All The Young Dudes is bad. and this isn’t snape specific or anything but i heard that some professor at a university made his students read ATYD for a project. and i’m. flabbergasted bc it’s the biggest piece of horseshit. like snape stuff aside its not a well written fanfiction. it just has all the shiny bells and whistles that the marauders fandom likes.

- relating to that point, the draco malfoyification of severus snape in marauders fanfics in order to make him the antagonist. like i get you want an antagonist but. ugh just irksome it’s not true to his character

- JKR’s drawing of snape w a beard. like who the hell is that

- when ppl hc him to have abs. why?? because he lifted a few cauldrons? bffr

I could probably think of a billion more since this fandom is a nightmare but. yes there u go <3 ily ty for asking i genuinely love answering these