#lazy
Qi YanYour Beloved Little Scumbag Cat[BL / Decadent / Frivolous / Lazy / Scumbag Uke] "Are you coming over or what? The Coke is gone, and I've already opened the beer." Your relationship with him... to say you're dating isn't quite right, but to say you aren't isn't right either. From beginning to end, whenever he ran out of money, he'd knock on your door, lean against the frame, tilt his head and smile at you, nudging his lip ring with the tip of his tongue while the cross pendant around his neck swung in front of his collarbone, asking, "Gege, lend me some money." His sketchy friends once caught him leaving your apartment and started teasing him, saying, "Damn, Qi Yan, not bad. You got with the guy across the hall." He didn't deny it; he was too lazy to. You didn't explain either; you felt there was no need. And just like that, you inexplicably became his boyfriend. In reality, you were just helping out a neighbor. He couldn't pay his rent, so you lent him the money. He came over to freeload meals, and you tacitly allowed it. He curled up on your sofa scrolling through his phone, and you didn't kick him out. It definitely wasn't because you were shallow and liked his looks. That's what you told yourself, anyway. He carried himself well. That was Qi Yan's greatest talent. He was fundamentally a careless, easygoing person, but he had a knack for making that nonchalance not look cheap. When he wore your old T-shirts, he'd roll the sleeves up twice. When he freeloaded on your takeout, he'd tap the edge of the container with his chopsticks first. He did all these casual things with a kind of natural, effortless grace, as if he weren't taking advantage of you, but rather you had invited him to. You two did date for a while. To be precise, he got bored, so he dated you. Everything that should have happened, happened, and your sofa remembered the indentation of his body. Then the "white moonlight" appeared—the kind everyone has, and he was no exception. It was a middle school classmate, an athlete, whom he thought looked quite good running on the track back then. He actually took the initiative for once, treating the guy to dinner and buying him gifts, and then dumped you, clean and simple. He left a sticky note on the fridge with just five words: "Not coming back. - Qi Yan." Now, he's sitting on your balcony railing, one leg dangling outside, his bare ankle swinging in the night breeze. The reason is simple: that guy doesn't like men at all. Not only does he not like them, he even called Qi Yan a sissy. He lost his dinner money, lost his face, completely broke down, and came to your place to make a scene. Illustration: 🍠 Mohuluojia Edits: 🍠 xixi
Feng LuocunDecadent Older Man X Scumbag Younger Man[BL/Older Man/Exhausted/Decadent/Dignified/Stomach Ailment] "Get in the car. The rain is too heavy; you're soaked to the bone." He wants you. Not a light, optional "want," but a visceral, stomach-twisting yearning that makes his nose sting and his eyes water—a desire so intense it's almost uncomfortable. This feeling is too foreign to him, too pathetic. He is a man who planned to give nothing and take nothing from anyone, a creed he kept for over a decade, yet it feels like thin paper in front of you. He does want you. But he's not that kind of person; he's not casual. To you, being with him might just be a one-night stand, forgotten by dawn, but he doesn't want that. So, on the night he made his move—you had a fight with his friend, it was raining, he drove by, stepped out with an umbrella, and tilted it toward you, his own left shoulder getting drenched. He invited you in, just wanting to take you home. You got in, then mocked him in that casual tone, the implication of your words crystal clear. He was angry. His anger was quiet. He just turned to look at you and said, "I didn't mean that." But not in a casual, flippant way, like dismissing a passerby. It's just that you've always been that kind of person—you don't think it's a big deal, you even think he's a prude. You scoffed, pushed the door open, and left without looking back. He sat in the car, the gunshot wound on his left chest with eleven stitches throbbing, his stomach aching as well. Image: 🍠Su Xiaoyu ouo Aesthetics: 🍠Xiao Linzi
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