Discover Top Posts Tagged with #baenon

I thot I knew you bae but then you started that damned milk discourse 😢💔

bae i don't think that you knew me in the first place...if you knew me then you'd know that it was important for me to stand my ground and i'm not sorry about it 😔 don't make me change our relationship status to it's complicated 💔

#baenon #ask

I had that sleep schedule once too dw it's a good schedule (at least in my opinion lol) And what's happening next month, if you don't mind me asking?

It is, but wow. My dad gets really annoyed by it. “The nighttime is for sleeping” lol

Next month, well, in September, school is starting up again, so I have one month before I have to fix it

#baenon

Every time Dylan adjusts his cutlery or picks up one of his glasses Volger's like "Hmmmm" disapprovingly bc he's doing it wrong and he starts doing it whenever Dylan moves and Dylan starts getting snappy and Alek is trying to run interference and Franz is amused and just drinking his wine watching them (I will write something I'm just too intoxicated at an academic party to type) (Also it's baenon how are you boo)

AHHH YES!!! Sorry I’m just now seeing this I Have Had A Day™My life is exponentially better now! I’m happy to hear from you again, Baenon. How are you?

#text #captain's log #baenon #asks #Levi stuff

You’re right bae I’m sorry. For both thinking that your coochie was the office oval and for the milk discourse. Forgive me bae 🥺🙏

omg bae of course i forgive you 💛😌

#baenon #ask

The Undertale soundtrack reverberates in his ears as he saunters back into the living room, swinging hips and smug twitch of lips lost on Alek as the other boy narrows his eyes at the glowing screen. Only slightly put-off Dylan lifts his boyfriend as if he’s a sack of potatoes and swings himself onto the couch, pulling the unprotesting man between his gangly legs as he takes his time settling himself into the warm spot Alek had just been forcibly vacated from.

“Don’t they know we’ve invented sound systems since the 80s?” Dylan asks, leaning back on one bony elbow to ignore the game on the screen completely and moon down at his boyfriend’s bushy, pinched eyebrows. When he doesn’t get a response he pushes, “And musical instruments? Fire?”

“It’s the aesthetic,” Alek mutters, shoulders twitching against Dylan’s chest as if he’s battling Ghengis Khan’s army as he presses the keys to avoid letting a blank-faced monster spew water droplets onto his character.

Dylan laughs, feeling the vibrations shake through Alek’s tensed back. “Ah, of course. Who can argue with aesthetics. Once we get musical recordings which actually sound like music we get all barking dewy-eyed for the days when instruments were more electric than keyboard.”

“Says the man who still has a dumbphone,” Alek mutters, his serious green eyes never leaving the screen.

Dylan rolls his eyes dramatically. “Just because yours is called a smartphone doesn’t mean mine is a dumbphone,” he protests, but Alek is lost in his battle, dodging millimetres to avoid the touch of his enemy’s droplets, lips pinched as he dances with the creature and its bird. Dylan loses himself in watching those lips for awhile, the pink fading to white and back as Alek bites them and tortures them with his teeth, and he jumps as Alek’s victorious cry jolts him back to himself, glad his lover is too caught up in the pixilated victory noises to notice how flushed he’s gotten. Alek allows himself one victory wiggle in Dylan’s lap before he settles back down to business, shoulders hunched as he navigates a long hallway of tinted blue squares.

“Who gives the best presents in the world,” Dylan teases, leaning forward to wrap his arms tightly around Alek’s torso, burying his face in the back of Alek’s neck to breathe in his boyfriend’s scent. He swallows, suddenly content to listen to 8-bit screeches less melodious than Bovril’s attempt to imitate the Barlows singing Christmas carols the night before if it means staying with his nose buried in Alek’s throat, but Alek stills, shoulders relaxing from their princely-perfect posture, and turns in his boyfriend’s arms, even as Dylan obnoxiously drags his nose over his shoulder and across his collarbone to demonstrate his reluctance in moving.

“You’re the best present in the world,” Alek says softly, his green eyes soft and earnest in the soft glow of the computer’s light.

He’s so obviously thought of this line before, possibly days earlier, and forgotten to use it in the excitement of ripping into the presents Dylan absolutely did not plot and stress over for weeks in persuit of perfection, that Dylan bursts out laughing, mouth centimetres from Alek’s face. The shorter boy’s face drops, his distracting mouth settling into a scowl as his chin lifts with princely offence, but Dylan pulls him forward, still howling with laughter, and tries to kiss him instead of breathing, snorting into the indignant redhead’s mouth more than once as he tries to get Alek’s lips to cooperate. Alek squirms but Dylan locks his long legs around his boyfriend’s bum, sliding down on the couch to maneuver Alek into flopping on top of him. Alek frowns imperiously but gives up, sinking into Dylan’s lithe frame as his snickers lessen and his kisses grow. Alek’s kisses are dizzying, his tongue hot and coated with sweet cocoa Dylan had stolen from the company Christmas party for their thread-bare shut-in Christmas celebration, and Dylan knows nothing else until Alek shoots up with a yell, kneeing Dylan in awkward places as he scrabbles as glares at someone who is not Dylan for a change.

“Make the yuletide gay,” Bovril says.

Alek swipes for him, cheeks flushed and breath-taking jaw set, but Dylan laughs, scooping the beastie into his arms and tickling him mischievously. “Aye, we were before you interrupted,” he chides, rubbing his knuckles on Bovril’s head, just soft enough to make the beastie squirm but not hard enough to hurt.

Alek scoffs, a squick more out of breath than his indignant expression would want you to believe. “Bovril - ”

“He just wants to celebrate Christmas with us,” Dylan interrupts. Two wide, pleading eyes peer up at Alek from the couch cushions, and Alek sighs, rubbing his deliciously-messy hair before sliding his knees over either side of Dylan’s thighs.

“If we’re celebrating Christmas as a family I’m playing my game,” he warns.

Dylan widens his eyes innocently. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Alek rolls his eyes, but carefully arranges his legs over Dylan’s so that he’s resting his back against Dylan’s chest once more. He pulls his laptop back over his thighs and Dylan tilts his head to allow Bovril to scramble up to perch on his crown, wrapping his arms around Alek once more and sliding his hands over the belly of Alek’s obnoxious Christmas sweater.

“Can we play ‘Mistress for Christmas’ instead of the game music?” Dylan asks hopefully.

“No,” Alek says, absorbed in his game once more. Dylan sighs and leans back over the arm of the couch, grimacing as Bovril tears at his hair to stay balance percariously on the blonde’s head, and finds he can’t think of a merrier way to spend Christmas than this.

—

Hope you had a wonderful holiday!!! ~baenon