theerakit kian lee: i have finally acquired the grip 🫡
also theerakit kian lee: celebrates a four months three months and thirty three days wedding anniversary, agrees to cut short a six months (!!) honeymoon vacation period because his husband craves work, proceeds to cry in the shower about it, researches how to survive a long distance relationship (estimated separation time: eight hours), calls said husband in the middle of his workday because he absolutely doesn't miss him and just needs to show off an art their daughter made at school and makes his children and sister in law join him in sitting on their mansion's stairs for hours until his husband returns from war work
a big thing abt the nature of ryan and naim's intimacy that i would love to see more people writing/talking about is the fact that ryan has the ability to just . switch off naim's brain. there's hints of it in their mill kisses but it's so clear in the bus scene and it makes me want to scream bc !!!!! i know we all bully naim for how much noise he was making but it's actually such an important marker of what naim gets out of intimacy with ryan—a chance to give up control, let his mind go blank, and just feel pleasure. naim is so quiet elsewhere in the film. he's a mostly silent crier, goes non-verbal when he's frightened, spends most of his time picking at his nails in too-big clothes with his head down hoping nobody notices him. joe described naim as an observer, someone who watches on from the sidelines, paralysed by anxiety, shame, and an endless stream of what ifs. but when he's with ryan we see naim teasing, laughing, talking more than he feels he should and getting embarrassed about it. and when ryan's touching him, we see naim pause for a moment, teetering on the edge of uncertainty, but all it takes is soft look, a gentle "it's okay" from ryan, and naim is able to let go. in the bus scene, for once naim isn't worried about what he looks or sounds like, totally lost in the feeling that ryan's giving him. and through that we get to see that for naim sex with ryan isn't just about getting off, it's one of the only times he can let go of all his anxiety and think abt nothing else. nothing else except ryan, and how good he's making him feel.
i love how every australian has realised they have the lovisa snake ring from leviticus . i too have it cause i bought it on sale at like 12 and now it's like this beautiful powerful reference
idk if im allowed to send 2 for the prompt thing but omg a broken water heater & the purple of fresh bruises pls feed me domestic ryanaim
“I think the hot water is broken,” Ryan says as he flops onto the bed beside Naim, crawling over to close the gap between them and laying his head on Naim’s thigh. The water from his hair seeps right through Naim’s sweats, cold and unpleasant against Naim's skin beneath.
Naim puts his phone down and looks at Ryan with an exasperated shake to his head, “Exactly what I told you yesterday, by the way.”
“I didn’t forget,” Ryan grins, catching Naim’s now free hand with his own and holding it against his chest.
Naim spreads his fingers against Ryan’s still damp skin, finding the loose purple edges of a bruise just under his ribs. Could have been from anything, really. Ryan’s job was rough, it wasn’t unusual for him to come home with assorted scrapes and bruises.
“Where’d you get that?” Naim asks him, concern about their supply of hot water suddenly shelved.
“Hm?” Ryan lifts his head to look down at his chest, shrugging as he sinks back into Naim, tucking his face in against Naim’s stomach, “Work I reckon.”
Of course, just like Naim thought. His eyes stick to the bruise, and Naim imagines the impact that caused it, hard and painful enough to make Ryan’s skin do that, and yet he couldn’t even recall when it happened.
“Naimm,” Ryan says, voice sing songy in the way he does when he tries to distract him, pulls their hands in the space between them and kisses Naim’s finger tips.
It works. Naim pulls his attention away from the bruise, back to the soft press of his lips, and the warm puffs of his breath, the heat of Ryan's body seeping through the wet fabric of Naim's pants.
“I’ll figure out the water tomorrow,” Ryan promises.
Naim runs his fingers through Ryan’s wet hair, watches the bright blues of his eyes, “Sounds good.”
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