GORE AND LOVE

dylan nods without a single thought behind his eyes. he does his best to take off his shirt with only using one hand but then he struggles a bit when it comes to his pants.

"erm - can you just unbutton them. i'm sorry i just- not used to the one hand thing yet. actually no i think i got it."

dylan manages to unbutton his jeans and slide them down with his good hand. he looks up and sees that nick is drinking in his physique. he grabs nick by the back of his neck and he kisses him even deeper this time. dylan does not give a single fuck about what is happening to any of them at the moment. he needed nick and he knew nick needed him.

"okay. it's your turn now."

#tw: nsfw #v: please don't stop the music #rp: dylan lenivy #lycaonthropy

dylan looks down to feel the slight breeze and he doesn't care anymore. they were skin to skin now. he quickly pulls nick to one of the beds. he doesn't care which. he just needs more. he needs something to be inside of something. he just needs. him.

he gets to the edge of the bed and pulls nick on top of them. surely they'll figure out positions at some point. dylan just doesn't care anymore. he just needs closer. he doesn't know how much closer they can get before they are tearing open more skin and getting inside of one another. he feels the sting from where nick had broken skin, but he just. needs him.

"nick. are you absolutely sure this is what you want? if yes, please do whatever you want to me."

dylan kisses him deeper and can feel his own erection getting more and more prominent. feeling nick's against his was driving him absolutely insane. more needed to be done. and he knew nick would do whatever he wanted to him.

mousegirlheart

how 2 flirt w me

#rp: adryan valle #she would use a raccoon as a trap

dylan tries to push nick away for just a moment before just giving in. nick was right, he did want this. he wanted it so bad. this was finally their chance to finally make this summer worth it. who cares if nick isn't acting right? who cares if other people are watching?

dylan gives into his deepest desires, his mouth clashing against nick's. he genuinely did not care if anyone saw. he didn't care if there was a literal dead body in front of them. he wanted this. he needed this.

"i'm sure there are cabins available. i'm certain we can just bust a door down. you're right. after the day i had today, i need this more than anything."

he said while pulling away from nick. he studied him again and god. dylan was stuck between finding this extremely hot and extremely disturbing. but once again, he didn't give a shit, he just wanted this.

it takes longer than it should to jerk back, separate himself from dylan's mouth long enough to take him in, pupils blown and black and hungry. the grin comes slow and cruel, a flash of canines as his tongue darts across the points of his teeth ( are they sharper than before ? must be a trick of the light — ) and fingers curling into dylan's shoulders, nails biting with the edge of too - tight.

and then he's moving, grip firm around him, dragging him along for a moment before his impatience gets the better of him — and then dylan is being swept into his arms, any potential romance in the gesture promptly discarded by the unceremonious toss over one shoulder he receives, because he doesn't have time to wait for him to match his pace. he offers no explanation to the others, doesn't so much as glance in their direction ; if dylan cares, he can apologise himself later, but nick is hoping they'll be too distracted by all the girls with guns this camp has running around to pay them much mind.

he doesn't bother venturing beyond the first building they come to, the poolhouse door careening almost off its hinges as he forces it open with strength that shouldn't be his — but, really, he's being considerate enough not doing this out in the open in the first place, because it's not like he much cares where they are, not when dylan is offering himself up, not when nick's whole world is narrowed to the two of them and the burning beneath his skin.

he drops him, stands there for a moment like he's not sure what to do with himself ; he's jittery, eyes darting over dylan without resting in any one place, fingers twitching —

( god, why does he hurt ? )

he collects himself long enough to bite out a warning, brief and strained.

⠀ ⠀❛⠀ ⠀you need to — clothes off. if i do it, i'll rip 'em.⠀ ⠀❜

#lycaonthropy #rp: dylan lenivy #v: please don't stop the music

dylan nods without a single thought behind his eyes. he does his best to take off his shirt with only using one hand but then he struggles a bit when it comes to his pants.

"erm - can you just unbutton them. i'm sorry i just- not used to the one hand thing yet. actually no i think i got it."

dylan manages to unbutton his jeans and slide them down with his good hand. he looks up and sees that nick is drinking in his physique. he grabs nick by the back of his neck and he kisses him even deeper this time. dylan does not give a single fuck about what is happening to any of them at the moment. he needed nick and he knew nick needed him.

"okay. it's your turn now."

dylan's eyes blink a couple of times and studies nick's face for a moment. it's like he can see all the veins in his face turning black. the dark circles under his eyes had intensified. he looked... sick. his eyes... oh god his eyes. dylan stumbles backwards after hearing a growl.... almost animal...

"what was t-that about?"

dylan manages to speak finally. he just couldn't find the words for his shock. how long had nick been waiting to do that. why did he do that? so many questions but no answers.

"what is up with you? not that i don't like you. i just don't know why you needed to kiss me"

his grin is too wide, canines flashing in the dim illumination of the pool lights.

⠀ ⠀❛ nothing's up with me. ❜

there's a part of him, locked in the back of his mind, that's screaming, knows it's a lie even as he says it, knows something is so very wrong — and yet he can't force himself to care, swatting the thought aside as soon as it makes itself known.

⠀ ⠀❛ nothing's up with me. ❜

it's firmer this time, more certain, his fingers curling around dylan's neck and hovering just over his pulse point ; touch feather - light but laden with promise, the weight of his hand there to remind them both that he could, if he wanted. could tighten his grip, hold dylan's very breath hostage.

⠀ ⠀❛ you've wanted this. we both have. it's been so. fucking. frustrating. the flirting, the teasing. i'm just finally making a move. ❜

he ducks his head again, presses his nose back into the warmth of dylan's jaw, inhales like he can't get enough. he can see the others over dylan's shoulder, dark eyes settling on them one by one, scanning their faces, and he doesn't bother to suppress the satisfied curl of his lips as he takes in their hesitation to approach, the faint undertone of fear scenting their confusion.

he doesn't divert his attention from them, pins them in place with his gaze as he murmurs into dylan's neck — won't give them the opportunity to distract him from nick, break the moment.

⠀ ⠀❛ let me. let me take you somewhere. gonna make you feel so good. ❜

#rp: dylan lenivy #lycaonthropy #v: please don't stop the music

dylan tries to push nick away for just a moment before just giving in. nick was right, he did want this. he wanted it so bad. this was finally their chance to finally make this summer worth it. who cares if nick isn't acting right? who cares if other people are watching?

dylan gives into his deepest desires, his mouth clashing against nick's. he genuinely did not care if anyone saw. he didn't care if there was a literal dead body in front of them. he wanted this. he needed this.

"i'm sure there are cabins available. i'm certain we can just bust a door down. you're right. after the day i had today, i need this more than anything."

he said while pulling away from nick. he studied him again and god. dylan was stuck between finding this extremely hot and extremely disturbing. but once again, he didn't give a shit, he just wanted this.

memepocalypse

Something's Wrong With You (senses)

Eyes

"Can you focus on me?"

"Hey... I'm over here?"

"What are you looking at?"

"Whoa, hey - sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm - I'm right in front of you."

"Can you... can you not see?"

"When did you lose your vision?"

"Hey, it's okay - it's okay. Let me take your hand and lead you."

"Don't be scared - it'll be okay. We'll fix it."

"Don't flinch - I'm going to touch you."

Ears

"Hello? Hellloooo?"

"Are you ignoring me?"

"God, you never pay attention -"

"I'm talking to you!"

"Why aren't you listening?"

"Pay attention!"

"Listen!"

"Can you not hear me or something?"

"Why are you looking at me like that..?"

"What - wait... you can't hear? Why am I saying this you can't hear it."

Mouth

"Why are you making that face? I spent ages cooking that."

"Why are you adding salt to that?"

"Whoa, you're drooling like crazy."

"Are you choking?"

"Bland? How can it be bland?"

"I can't taste anything."

"My mouth just tastes like blood."

"Everything tastes of nothing."

"My tongue's gone numb."

"Bleh."

Nose

"Eugh, can't you smell that?"

"Oh, that smells hideous."

"It reeks in here!"

"You stink."

"I think I broke my nose."

"I can't smell anything?"

"I think I've gone nose-blind."

"Should I... be able to smell anything?"

"I think I burnt my nostril hairs out."

"Everything just smells like smoke."

Feeling

"I think I just burnt my fingerprints off."

"My hands have gone numb."

"I can't - I can't feel anything. At all."

"Are you touching me? I can't tell -"

"Your hands are shaking."

"Okay - if you're going to keep dropping things you need to put them down."

"Can you feel this?"

"I'm going to run my fingers through your hair."

"I'm taking your hand."

"It's okay - it's okay. Just take a breath. The feeling will come back."

@cruortype ➤ kiss meme ➤ accepting ↳ for nick from dylan / 20. a rough kiss

he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

mere moments ago, he was trembling, musculature locked and mind oscillating wildly between terror and confusion — couldn’t stop thinking about it, about his hand around the hunter’s throat, the strength, the anger —

and now … he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but his body is still and eerily calm. mostly, the only thing he can focus on is hunger.

the surface of the pool glints in the overhead lights, stark face of the full moon gazing back at them, and it would almost be beautiful if not for the startling scarlet of blood staining the waters and blanketing the corpse that floats atop them.

dylan had lurched backward when they’d seen her, crashed directly into nick’s chest and clutched at him like a lifeline, and at first he’d opened his arms, drawn him in, wanted to protect — but now all that’s in his mind is how good he smells.

he ducks his head low, presses his nose into dylan’s neck and inhales. something in him hums in contentment, his grip tightening around dylan’s torso, and he nuzzles nearer, pulls him into his space until they can’t get any closer — and yet it’s not enough.

his teeth bare, sharp and feral, because it’s so frustrating. what is it his instincts are urging him to do ? ( possess - take - hunt - keep - mine— ) what does he need ? it’s like he wants to bite him, sink canines into the heat of his throat, but that can’t be right, can’t be —

⠀ ⠀❛ god, i — i want … ❜

for an instant, something that feels like clarity hits him as if a bolt of lightning. they’ve been dancing around each other all summer, he and dylan, flirtatious jokes just on the edge of playful, casual touches one could brush off as friendly if not for their frequency, always a little too close but never crossing the line — and why ? why had they never just gone for it ? why had he waited, never taken the initiative ?

he doesn’t remember. can’t think of a single reason he shouldn’t just do what they both want him to do.

a growl rumbles low in his chest and he moves, fingers sliding from dylan’s back up to his shoulders, neck, into his hair and twining tight, yanking his head back — and then their lips are crashing together.

it’s rough and possessive, nick’s other hand still pressed into the small of dylan’s back, holding him to him as he parts his mouth with his, tongue darting to swipe along dylan’s bottom lip and promptly followed by the nip of teeth.

he doesn’t care that the others are watching, tunes them out, only cares about dylan, his smell, his taste, his warmth, the thrum of his blood —

he tears himself away, pupils blown and dark, something in the tilt of his head distinctly animalistic.

⠀ ⠀❛ i’m so sick of waiting. ❜

#lycaonthropy #rp: dylan lenivy #v: please don't stop the music

dylan's eyes blink a couple of times and studies nick's face for a moment. it's like he can see all the veins in his face turning black. the dark circles under his eyes had intensified. he looked... sick. his eyes... oh god his eyes. dylan stumbles backwards after hearing a growl.... almost animal...

"what was t-that about?"

dylan manages to speak finally. he just couldn't find the words for his shock. how long had nick been waiting to do that. why did he do that? so many questions but no answers.

"what is up with you? not that i don't like you. i just don't know why you needed to kiss me"

@cruortype ➤ plotted starter ➤ dylan & nick

when dylan finally elbows open the door to his cabin, it's to the sight of nick scuffing the toes of his sneakers into the deck outside, a haphazard sheaf of papers gathered in his arms and a decidedly bashful slope to the hunch of his shoulders.

⠀ ⠀❛ hey, d'you mind if i come in for a bit ? ❜

⠀ ⠀❛ i mean, only if i'm not interrupting anything. i was working on the meal plan for next week, but jacob brought emma over and now they're, um. busy. ❜

he gestures with the sheets he's holding with an air of apology, as if to underline the point, to prove he hasn't turned up on dylan's doorstep without cause. he's doing his best not to feel irritated — their little summer fling is harmless, mostly, and he's happy for jacob, really, he is — but he's prepared to say he's pretty fair in his indignance over being unceremoniously ousted from his own cabin. is this an accepted downside of sharing with a roommate ? part of him regularly mourns the fact that he's not the type to snitch to mr. h. — at times like this, it almost seems worth it.

#lycaonthropy #v: please don't stop the music #rp: dylan lenivy

dylan eyes nick up and down for a moment before opening the door a bit wider.

"yes of course, come in."

he proudly shows nick the very messy desk in the corner of the room before he quickly realizes his mistake and rushes over to clean the papers off.

"sorry i wasn't entirely expecting anyone else to use my desk. but i promise you're free to use it whenever you need. i know the whole jacob and emma thing puts a hindrance on all of us if i'm being honest"

as nick sits down at the desk, dylan sits on the bed.

iknowitwontwork

FUCK THIS COUNTRY

musingxmemes

Sᴇɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜsᴇ “Hᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ (...)”s. Tʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴏɴʟʏ ʀᴇᴘʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ‘ʏᴇs’ ᴏʀ ‘ɴᴏ’.

@cruortype ➤ plotted starter ➤ kaitlyn & dylan

it's three - fifteen in the morning and he still can't sleep. instead, he's hunched over in his bedroom, knees bent to his chest, one arm curled tight around his legs while the other is held before him, frozen gaze affixed to the brutal stump below its elbow.

not his favourite thing to be staring at, exactly, but it's preferable to the alternative, because he knows if he looks up he'll stare at the window instead, and he can't — the blinds are firmly lowered, he has two different lamps fending off the dark, and yet he still feels like he can see it, can see the shape of the full moon staring at him through the glass, waiting —

he's shaking again. awesome. great. he's doing so fucking well at this. he scrubs at his face, a burst of frustration lighting him up from the inside out, and then he's groping blindly at the bedsheets, grabbing his phone where it lies beside him, unassuming.

he pauses at kaitlyn's contact for a second too long, wavering — will she be asleep ? he really hopes she isn't. that probably makes him a bad friend.

but she's never asleep. not on nights like this.

hey, he types, barely waits a moment before following up : u doing any better than i am ?

#rp: kaitlyn ka #v: what doesn't kill you #lycaonthropy

kaitlyn had been feverishly writing in her notebook about her memories from camp. she knows that if she doesn't get her words on the page, no one will believe her about the events that happened at camp. no one believes her in general but it's better if she has actual notes on her situation.

her phone buzzes and she takes a look to notice dylan's name. she reads his message and rolls her eyes slightly.

glad you're up too, dyl. she pauses for a moment before following up i'm just trying to write my feelings out. i worry about if we'll get rearrested...

oceansprompts

marvel's midnight suns | misc quotes 1

I will not be howling at the moon any time soon.

Have to say, for a haunted Transian Castle raised on the cursed grounds of Old Salem it's pretty cozy.

I really should up my homeowner's insurance.

You smell... wrong.

You know what they say. All work and no play... is how we ended up with Ultron.

We invented stealth.

I don't actually care, but they need to stop moping. So. Can they play with your dog?

Admit what? That I feel a sense of admiration and respect for a fellow teammate?

Yeah, I didn't figure someone so great and powerful would be into a book club.

You're hung up on the were-roosters... Alright, let's hear what you got.

Is this visit business or pleasure?

How’s your mental health? A good portion of this “darkness hunting” game is mental health and processing intense situations.

But, hell on Earth isn’t a garden stroll.

I’ve spent decades experimenting and putting it together. Any of ’em interest you?

I’m telling you. I don’t know what’s coming next, but I do know when the shit hits the fan with Chthon...

You’re acting like I did it for fun...

Comfortable? I’ll never be comfortable around that monster. . .

You’re turning out to be one of my favorite people. . .

Why do you think? They take vicious killers and present them as tragic and misunderstood.

It’s just... Off, somehow. I swear, the moonlight on a clear evening is too dim for this time of year...

Was your first thought about killing me?

What I’m asking is, if I lost control, would you stop me?

Let’s talk about how your mother just turned one of my best friends against us.

These people look to me for guidance, but it feels like I’m stumbling around in the dark.

Just the fact that you are willing to learn means you’re on the right track.

So how do I tell him I’m totally cool with being best pals without scaring him off...

It wouldn’t take many guards to secure the building. So the question is: What else are they doing in there?

It’s not big enough to swim laps. Its only real purpose is for lounging and soaking up the sun.

It figures she’d send you. Did she tell you I want nothing to do with it? Because I still don’t.

Every time I think I’ve got my mind wrapped around this conflict, I get thrown a curveball.

But right now? I want to let you know how proud I am to be serving alongside you and watching your leadership.

Maybe this is what we’re supposed to be doing, fighting an endless war.

What do you make of our chances to get out of this mess in one piece?

That’s an easy question with a complex answer. Tell me this–what type of leader would you follow?

I always did what I thought was right. No more, no less.

Well, not so much fish as that ginormous, invulnerable sewer monster that swallowed the Sanctum.

I’m told I can be rather persuasive when I need to be.

It’s all just starting to blur into one big giant green gamma mess…

I’m having it right now and-wait. I think… oh no. Did I feed my cat before I left?

Would you have been able to take the shot? Because I don’t think I could’ve.

I’m going to be up all night trying to make sense of it, see if it helps us find our way back into the Sanctum.

But the more I see him in action, the more I think he might be an okay dude.

I’m telling you if I have to spend one more hour scanning digital maps…

All you have to do is be ready to fight for what you care about when the time comes.

Yeah, I know. Nasty artifacts like that aren’t known for their safety features…

I have to admit, I don’t think you’d be such a formidable poker player. Yet another reason to respect you.

This is the life, licking it with the legendary Hero, and kicking said legendary Hero’s ass at a fighting game.

Believe it or not, I don’t have a lot peeps I can call friends, not close ones at least.

I feel like you get how just how heavy all that extra baggage…

Sadly, the sense of wonder eventually wears off like most things.

… Sorry if I’m ruining any romantic notions of space travel.

I’m not just my powers. Sometimes I like to take it slow…

I’ve tried blindfolds, facing away from the board, and one-finger throws. Perfect score, every time.

The forbidden nap, if you will. Mercenary work is a grab bag of awful stuff…

Because looking at it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I can play nice all day when we’re out there kicking bad guy booty…

Uh, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? Money!

I forgot. You aren’t as self-aware as I am…

Well, your friends have been avoiding me like the plague…

He waved goodbye and peaced out to live a life of solitude…

justanotherrpmeme

After-Action Patch-Up starters

"Hold still, [name], this might sting a bit." "You're lucky it's just a few scratches. You need to be more careful!" "Don't be such a baby. It's just a flesh wound." "I can't believe you jumped into that fray without thinking! What were you trying to prove?" "Here, let me help. I've had my fair share of battle wounds." "Ouch! Warn me before you start cleaning those cuts." "You're a mess. How did you even get into this situation?" "I never thought I'd see you so vulnerable. It's strange." "Let's patch you up before anyone else sees you like this." "You really need to work on your combat skills. I can't keep playing nursemaid." "I've got the first aid kit. Sit down, and let me take care of those injuries." "You did well out there, but you're not invincible. Let me help." "I told you not to charge in without a plan. Now look at you." "It's nothing serious, just a few cuts and bruises. You'll be fine." "I can't believe you're complaining about a little pain. You should see what I've been through." "Hold on, I'll get the antiseptic. This might sting a bit." "You're surprisingly fragile for someone who fights so fiercely." "You really know how to ruin a perfectly good day, don't you?" "I never expected to see you in need of my care. Life is full of surprises." "I suppose I should thank you for saving me, even if it means playing nurse now."

[CLEANS] The sender takes a cotton swab and gently cleans the dirt and blood from the receiver's wounds. [BANDAGES] The sender carefully wraps a bandage around the receiver's forearm, securing it to protect the cuts. [SCOLDS] The sender scolds the receiver, shaking their head as they tend to the injuries. [REACTS] The receiver winces as the sender applies antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut on their cheek. [COMFORTS] The sender reassures the receiver, offering comfort while tending to the injuries. [DISINFECTS] The sender pours antiseptic on a wound, causing the receiver to inhale sharply at the stinging sensation. [INSPECTS] The sender inspects the wounds, noting any deeper cuts that might need more attention. [LECTURES] The sender lectures the receiver, advising them to think before acting to avoid future injuries. [SMILES] Despite scolding, the sender smiles reassuringly, trying to ease the tension in the room. [COMPLAINS] The receiver complains about the pain, prompting the sender to roll their eyes and continue their work. [WORRIES] The sender expresses worry, sharing their concern for the receiver's well-being. [TREATS] The sender skillfully treats each injury, showcasing their competence in basic first aid. [ADMONISHES] The sender admonishes the receiver, emphasizing the potential severity of the situation. [ASSESSES] The sender assesses the overall damage, silently noting the toll the fight took on the receiver. [DISAPPROVES] The sender expresses disapproval, stating that putting oneself in danger is not acceptable. [ASSURES] The sender assures the receiver, claiming that despite appearances, the injuries will heal quickly. [HESITATES] The receiver hesitates as the sender reaches for a needle and thread to stitch up a deeper cut. [SYMPATHIZES] The sender sympathizes with the receiver, acknowledging the pain while praising their efforts. [SCANS] The sender scans the receiver's body for any hidden injuries, ensuring nothing was overlooked. [GRATEFUL] The receiver expresses gratitude to the sender for taking care of them amid the discomfort.

gothamusings-deactivated2024032

THE MORNING AFTER PROMPTS. a collection of memes derived from the morning after trope, for roleplaying purposes. feel free to edit as you see fit. do not steal (18+). send (reverse) along with any action prompts to swap the assigned roles.

i'm surprised that you stayed.

would you believe me if i said that i don't normally do this?

last night was incredible. i especially liked it when you did the thing.

how long have you been awake?

don't move. i'm comfortable.

what would you say to some breakfast?

i should really go.

i like waking up next to you.

you know, i could go another round. or three.

you look cute first thing in the morning.

i don't think i'm gonna be able to walk today.

what time is it?

i don't think i caught your name.

stop moving.

you talk in your sleep.

you have to leave, right now.

how did my shirt get there?

i'm trying so hard not to kiss you right now.

shut up, i'm trying to sleep.

your feet are cold.

i was worried last night had been a dream.

wanna order food and spoon for a while?

i thought you'd left.

come back to bed.

i didn't want to disturb you.

your phone was ringing.

last night didn't mean anything. you know that, right?

i've been waiting so long for this.

i love you.

kiss. for sender's muse to waken receiver's muse up with a kiss.

spoon. for sender's muse to pull receiver's muse flush against them, spooning them.

breakfast. for sender's muse to bring receiver's muse breakfast in bed.

morning. for our muses to have sleepy, morning sex.

shower. for our muses to shower together.

bathe. for our muses to bathe together.

kitchen. for our muses to prepare breakfast together.

trace. for sender's muse to trace the marks they left on receiver's body.

watch. for sender's muse to just silently watch the receiver's muse as they sleep.

display. for sender's muse to watch as receiver's muse begins to get dressed.

pin. for sender's muse to stop the receiver's muse from leaving the bed.

mouth. for sender's muse to initiate sleepy oral sex on receiver's muse.

#ooc: ask meme #ooc: prompt

rafeandonlyrafe

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

dylan gingerly takes elijah's hand and inhales the other line.

"aren't you proud of me? i didnt spill a single atom"

he smiles at him as soon as his eyes focus. dylan had been crushing on elijah for most of the school year but with his horrific autism, he never knew how to address it other than inviting him over to his dorm room whenever he got the chance.

"y'know we really should be studying for that big test tomorrow..."

hishedonism

he extends a hand to proudly pat dylan on the cheek — or, at least, that's his intention, but with the room tilting on its axis like it is it ends up being more of a clumsy, undignified smack into his face.

⠀ ⠀❛ i'm so proud. you're gonna get a good grade in coke. ❜

he takes another long, lazy drag from the joint, closing one eye to focus on dylan past the haze of intoxication as he speaks — only to toss his head back and let out the world's loudest, most drawn - out groan at his choice of subject matter.

⠀ ⠀❛ no - ooo - o, no, we shouldn't, because who cares ? why are you even thinking about that right now ? just fuck— fucking— ❜

he tilts forward precariously, set on distracting him, because clearly he's not high enough yet if he's still trying to be sensible, and ends up half - straddling his lap, one hand braced against the wall behind dylan as the other grips his jaw, fingers nudging his mouth open insistently. he leans in, exhales the smoke he's holding — and if he overbalances a little, their lips just on the edge of too close, he's not sober enough to realise.

#cw addiction #cw drugs #cw suggestive #hishedonism #cw alcohol

dylan inhales the smoke and realizes that if he leans in just a bit more... but before he can attempt to make a move, elijah pulls away, ruining dylan's chance to finally make a move for god's sake.

"erm- thanks for that. i guess you're right, i do deserve to relax and not think about school. for once."

he reaches across elijah to grab the bottle and takes a massive swig of tequila before offering the bottle to him.

"so have you met any guys on campus that you're interested in? a pretty guy like you has got to have some gentlemen suitors."

"god when will i ever shut the fuck up" dylan thinks to himself.

hishedonism

@cruortype ➤ plotted starter ➤ dylan

he's long since lost track of how far gone they are, let alone how many hours they've been here for. he peers at his phone, idly taps at it with a fingernail to check the time, but after the third time he tries with absolutely no recollection of the numbers he's staring at he decides it really doesn't matter much anyway. he pushes off the wall they've been leant back against, turns to dylan with the joint he's been holding —

⠀ ⠀❛ here, take this — ❜

only to belatedly realise his hands are occupied with the alcohol bottle and his own phone, opting instead to unceremoniously shove the end of the stick between the other's lips for safekeeping.

benefit numero uno of dylan's roommate dropping out early : no one to interrupt, and very little risk of getting caught.

he crawls to the edge of the bed on his knees, leans over dylan's legs just far enough to grab the small, unassuming packet they'd tossed atop the cabinet not so long ago, and blindly pats around the blankets between them, searching for the college textbook they've been horrifically misusing for the better part of the night. evidently, though, it's been thrown to the floor somewhere over the course of the past hour, and he does not have the patience to go looking, so after some deliberation he sits back on his heels, extends an arm and — only a little shakily — tips two powder - white lines along the length of his wrist, straightening them with a pinky before he ducks down and inhales.

his eyes close briefly, head dropping back, before blown pupils focus once more on dylan, and he shifts angles, offers his arm while he steals the joint back from his mouth with his free hand.

⠀ ⠀❛ spill any and you owe me, like, six hundred drinks, i am so serious. ❜