#drugs warning

[enbykelpie]

they should bring back coca cola with cocaine and call it croca-cola

[emotionaleating]

pls don’t flirt with me i want to be nonchalant so bad but i unfortunately crave connection so intensely that i will give you my entire soul and forgive you over and over until i’ve lost myself completely and feel like i’m drowning

[muttley-do-something]

suddenly remembered where we hide the liquor and now im like ✌️✌️✌️🫡 if i dont post for a while its bc the ground ate me and my plants and the cat yippee lets goooo avatar me buried daddy

[contact-guy]

(content warning for drugs, scarring, and needles!!!)

This is part one of THE SIGN OF THE FOUR...please bear with the angst, but Holmes and Watson are sooo bitchy to each other in the opening of this story and I wanted to dig into it.

Part two

(this is part of the Watson's sketchbook series)

EDIT since someone asked - these are all direct lines from the book except for the section that starts with "you will have work again" and ends with "I know there have been rumours", which is my little addition to explain certain things

[timmydraker]

CW: drugs

When Tim is seventeen, Bruce gets a call from his principal asking for a private meeting to discuss Tim’s education. It’s not abnormal, but the parent teacher meetings weren’t due for another month and something about the tone of Professor Wilcot’s voice leaves Bruce concerned.

He organises it for the next afternoon and politely tells the timid looking man to please get to the point.

Wilcot answers with a tight lipped frown, “I recently discovered that Tim has a few nicknames. Now, that in itself isn’t a probably but the names themself are… concerning.”

Bruce immediately thinks of Red Robin and worries his son has been caught, but that makes little sense when Tim has shown to be the best at contingencies and secret keeping.

“Such as?”

With a deep sigh the man continues, “Well, there’s ‘Benzo’ and ‘Opi’. As well as ‘27’, which is recently learned references a so called ‘club’ of celebrities who die at that age for-for drug abuse.”

Even if he wasn’t a detective, Bruce could easily put it all together. Benzodiazepines and opioids, both drugs and a number well tied to such a thing all regarding a famed person.

It’s like he’s just gotten inside from being drenched in snow and had hot water dunked on him as dozens of different moments come to mind. He remembers Tim going from being down and low, tired and drained to suddenly being extra alert and chatty. He assumed it was coffee, but Tim often had a red nose and sniffled like mad.

He also got shakes, was made fun of by his brothers for being a sweaty person, and irritable at the best of times. He was jumpy and easily spooked, which everyone connected to him growing up safe and getting no sleep.

Tim also had forgotten basic case information a few times but usually managed to cover it up.

Bruce had noticed and responded by trying to lessen his work load, only for Tim to scream at him, storm off and come back looking drowsy a couple of hours later.

Wilcot doesn’t speak for a while, seemingly giving Bruce the chance to process his words but when he does it’s just to put forward the last bit of evidence Bruce needs.

“I admit it isn’t exactly ethical, but I check Mister Drake-Wayne’s locker and… I thought it would be best if I let you chose how to proceed lest I harm his reputation.”

A bottle, almost empty, of Oxycodone and a half full bottle of Oxymorphone.

Bruce looks away when the last bottle lands on the table, it’s a benzodiazepines called Dalmane and there are no pills because they’ve all been crushed into a powder.

Bruce doesn’t even want to think about how those drugs interact.

Wilcot says one last thing before he leaves the room, quit clearly giving Bruce a moment as the reveal settles in his mind, “Tim is a good kid. He’s kind to everyone and I truely hope he can get help. Please, if there is anything I can do, contact me. Other than that, I will keep this quiet. Please take care of him.”

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne loves his children, he genuinely cares for them and most importantly, he likes who each of them are.

But he’s not always the best father to them, not when he’s too far in his head and his head is too far up his arse.

He tries to confront Tim calmly and with compassion at first but it becomes clear he isn’t qualified to deal with it and he should have gotten Alfred or even Dick. When Batman deals with addicts all he has to do is get them to a hospital and show he isn’t judging them, but with his own son and when he’s not being Batman…

Tim instantly locks up when Bruce shows him the bottles and his defences go straight into overdrive, “Bruce, don’t. That’s not fair! Did you go through my fucking stuff?! That’s fucked up!”

Bruce looses his composure quickly, “Don’t you dare curse at me, Timothy. You are a goddamn hero and you’re doing this? Why did you tell me?! I could have helped you! Why, Tim?! You e seen what people who abuse drugs end up like-“

Tim screams so loud Bruce can practically hear how it hurts his throat, “WHAT FUCKING DRUGGIES?! IS THAT WHAT THEY END UP LIKE?! TOO FUCKING LATE BRUCE, YOU’RE TOO LATE! I GAVE YOU EVERY FUCKING SIGN AND YOU DID NOTHING SO FUCK OFF! I. AN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN!”

“This ain’t handling it, Tim. You’re addicted. You’re erratic, you’re bouncing from mood to mood and, have you seen how skinny you are? I’m worried, Tim.”

Maybe Tim would have been able to handle it better if he hadn’t been a few hours into withdrawal, but all he does is swing. He manages to catch Bruce of guard and hit him square in the jaw, only to realise what he’s done and start hitting himself the same way.

Bruce breaks as he watches his son who is usually so calm and controlled break down in a fit of aggression and pent up energy.

When Tim manages to hit himself hard enough Bruce. An hear a crack from his hand.

As he speaks again he dooms himself to a life time of regret, forever wishing he had gotten Alfred’s advice first.

“I’m sorry son, but until you’re clean, you will no longer be Red Robin.”

There’s a silence before Tim releases a wheezing laugh of disbelief.

It’s soon followed by the most enraged, harrowing scream Bruce has ever heard. It feels as if it shakes the walls before Tim kicks at his father’s stomach and bolts.

Bruce is too stunned to follow and foolishly assumes he can track his son anywhere.

Tim, even after he manages to shakily pull out the Dalmane he had in his pocket just as he passes the gate and take a big inhale, manages to put his mind together enough to remove his watch and key.

Bruce is forced to shamefully admit what happened a few hours later when he can’t find him and realises that Tim isn’t coming back.

Alfred for the first time in Bruce’s entire life actually glares at him.

Dick shouts at Bruce about how unbelievably stupid he is.

Jason just scoffs and says the kid will come back while Damian makes a comment about Tim being weak.

Maybe they would have reacted better if Bruce told them why Tim left, but he shamefully doesn’t want to admit he didn’t notice that Tim was a dealing with addiction under his own nose.

But Bruce has never been good with honesty.

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ FLESH OF MY FLESH; BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ꒱ KAMO CHOSO X READER — ft. itadori yuuji

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors do not interact—i will block you! incest. yandere elements. implied drugging. noncon. slight forced feminization (choso uses “sister” and she/her pronouns to refer to reader, but reader is nb). religious imagery. reader is yuuji’s twin, but no physical descriptors are used. reader has a vagina.

word count ⟢ 963

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was choso + incest. i have an au with big brother choso and twins yuuji and reader, so this was the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamic. a huge thank you to my dearest lexi—@drleggman—for requesting this (and for allowing me to go full degenerate) <3

“Yuu…”  “Yuu…ji…” “Yuuji…”

Your twin’s name ambles from your petal-soft lips, voice laden with slumber, muted snores drifting through the gaps. The bedroom you share is swathed in midnight’s gloom; moonbeams peek through the cheap apartment blinds, luminous stripes cutting across the men huddled above your nude figure.  

“Our baby sister seems to be having sweet dreams,” Choso states, mouth reluctantly detaching from your nipple, a silvery thread of spider silk connecting his lips to your tender flesh. “She’s naughty, though—calling out to you when I’m the one pleasuring her.”

Choso removes two thick digits from your weeping hole, examining the twitch of your jaw as he strums your clit with calloused fingertips. He experimentally increases the speed and pressure of his caresses, humming when you let out a whimper. As your breath grows heavier and your eyes flicker and dance beneath your lids, he pauses to smear your slick across your pubic hair, and scrapes his teeth up your neck to nip at your pulse point. 

Yuuji lies beside you, honeyed gaze soaking in the tranquil curves of your dreamy expression. He strokes the hair at your temple with the care of a collector admiring his choicest possession; he can’t help but drag his nose across your cheek, blotting a kiss at the hollow behind your earlobe.  

The reverence Yuuji treats you with starkly contrasts the way his muscular body presses against your softness, his bare cock dribbling pre onto the plush of your thigh. It’s something of a punishment that Choso doled out—not being able to indulge in you fully—upset with your twin for being secretive and possessive of you. But as far as Yuuji is concerned, to be anywhere in the halo of your presence is a heavenly gift. To merely witness your divinity, to press his lowly, sweaty skin flush to yours—it’s more than he deserves. 

“Don’t be too rough with them,” Yuuji fusses when Choso abruptly presses your knees to your chest, leveling his face with your spread cunt. “W-wait—I wanna taste, too.” 

After Yuuji shuffles over to join Choso, two sets of broad shoulders hunch over to marvel at your beauty. Yuuji fully expects to be chewed out again—perhaps even shoved off the bed or thrown out of the room; he swallows his pride and formulates a half-hearted apology, prepared to grovel for a chance to revel in you.

Instead, he grunts in surprise when he’s pulled into a kiss.

Chapped, chilly lips slip against his own, urging Yuuji’s mouth open, wet muscles intertwining. A shiver skitters across his limbs when he discovers the little silver ball that pierces Choso’s tongue—now bumping along the expanse of his palate, tracing the velvet of his gums. It’s a sloppy exchange of spit and teeth and tongue, too frenzied to be mistaken as purely passionate. Choso reaches over to swipe a thumb across Yuuji’s fat, leaking cock head. Yuuji keens into his brother’s mouth before ripping himself away, swollen lips parted, blooming rose from the tips of his ears down to his heaving chest.

“Let’s taste her together,” Choso rasps.

Not waiting for a reply, he pecks the fat of your hip before dipping down to lap at the arousal leaking from your hole; Yuuji watches heatedly, letting saliva pool on his tongue and drip onto your clit. He then cleans his mess with noisy sucks, occasionally tugging at your folds. Too preoccupied with coaxing your unconscious body to orgasm, the brothers don’t realize how you begin to stir, fingers and toes flexing and relaxing. They savor your eventual high, admiring your glistening release.

“I’ll have her first,” Choso announces thickly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s practically vibrating—pale skin dewy with desire—having fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count. “You should prop her up.”

Yuuji leans against the headboard and pulls you between his strong legs, your head resting on his chest. Choso angles your hips and pumps his throbbing length a few times before nudging your entrance. Your breathing shallows and you yawn; Yuuji’s heart catches in his throat.

“Fuck—how much did you give them? Clearly not enough,” he hisses, arms tightening around your waist. “I think they’re about to wake up.”

For the first time all evening, Choso smiles at Yuuji. It’s an unsettling sight: his knife-sharp inscisors gleam in the dusk, irises black as bruised plums. “Relax,” he soothes. “She’s going to enjoy this, too. It will become a treasured memory for us all.”

Before Yuuji can respond, your eyelids flutter open. “Ch-Choso…Yuuji…” you murmur, words slow and slurred as molasses, “what are you—”

The air is promptly punched from your lungs, a strangled yelp interrupting your train of thought as Choso enters you in a single thrust—cock so deep you swear you can taste it. One of Yuuji’s rough palms rests on your belly and meanly presses down with the movement; you throw your head back and warble a moan.

“Call me ‘onii-chan,’” Choso grits out, refusing to succumb to the squeeze of your cunt so soon.

“W-what?” you sniffle. Your brain is foggy from whatever concoction they gave you, incapable of piecing together your predicament.

He grasps your chin firmly, forcing your glazed stare to focus on him. “Onii-chan,” he repeats with a harsh snap of his hips.

You squirm, trying to turn to Yuuji for help, unaware of the tears carving hot rivulets down your cheeks. But Choso won’t let you go. His heavy frame eclipses yours, trapping you in place. “We’re family,” he huffs, fucking you steadily, umber strands falling to curtain his face.

“Everything we do, we do together. You have both been—nnghhh—selfish. It’s time to make it up to onii-chan.” 

[glassygaze]

I HOPE THIS HURTS

I HOPE THIS HURTS

I HOPE THIS HURTS

[yanyandere]

MY SWEET BUNNY CAGE // support the artist (eng)

[cccrouton]

he can have death sticks sometimes. as a treat.

[traumawhomst]

Platonic Yandere Adopted Dad brain rot

(650 words)

Ok but imagine you’re on the run from the law, and you try and duck through someone’s property. You’ve done it a million times before but this time He’s milling about his property and sees you. You of course are ready to book it but you don’t need him tipping off the police of where you are. You nod along politely when he rambles about the local flora while you try and creep away.

You swear you can hear sirens getting closer when he asks you in for a snack if you want it. He asks in that slightly worried dad tone about when you last ate. You agree to come in quickly practically dragging him to his house, trying to ask questions about the wildflowers he was talking about.

You don’t realize that maybe this was a bad idea until you’re feet away from his back door. Maybe following strange men into unknown houses isn’t the safest idea, but you’ve learned to take some risks and forge ahead.

The house is nice, to your surprise. It comfortable but in the way that was made comfortable by the obvious care and love that wore it out. It was clean with soft looking furniture, decorated like something out of a picture book that was about going to your grandparents.

You sit at the kitchen table, (lovingly scuffed up you note) and find yourself relaxing despite everything. He gets you tea and some leftovers from the night before, sitting across the table with his own tea as he watches you trying not to scarf down his food like a wild animal. He gently prods at the fact you look hungry, and your clothes hadn’t been washed in a while. He even pointed out your shoes (that were functional even if they were mostly duck tape at this point). You almost laughed when he asked you if you were safe at home, leaning forward clear worry in his eyes.

You did your best to spin a good believable story, based on small bits of your past, that you knew you looked rough but thankfully you have someone close to help you get back on your feet. You don’t think he buys it at all but he doesn’t press or pry further instead talking about the area since you were going to stay close by. He talks about his kids, his youngest off to college and how he isn’t used to an empty home.

Even though you came here under false pretenses you find yourself enjoying talking to him. He’s the right mix of goofy dad and gentle concern that made it damn near impossible to say no when he offers a shower and clean clothes. You don’t have to of course, he does understand why you wouldn’t want to, but he’d feel so bad if he didn’t at least see if he had a better pair of shoes to wear.

So you cave, taking the offer of a shower and fresh pair of clothes. It’s not like you planned on staying afterward. He manages to find a pair of boots that fit and gives you some used but sturdy clothes to go along with it.

He doesn’t fight this time when you say you have to go, instead offers you one last cup of tea. After everything you can’t find it in yourself to say deny him the last small thing.

You’re not sure what happened but when you stood to finally leave, your legs folded under you and you woke up in a spare room. He fusses over you and asks if should call your relative or anyone to watch over you until you’re healthy again. Stuck in your lie you, agree to stay just until (he’s convinced you to stay) you’re back on your feet again.

[taravangians-storming-balls]

AU where everything is the same except kaladin has a skateboard and sunglasses at all times

bonus panel:

[emotionaleating]

[luvrgreyy]

THE AMERICAN DREAM

leon kennedy x f!reader

word count: 2.4k summary: living the picture perfect marriage with leon. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. typical american marriage, mentions of abuse, throwing up, drugging/use of drugs, gaslighting, leon being mean and condescending — he’s very ooc in this one, non-con, basically somnophilia, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, fingering(vaginal and mouth), degrading language.

a/n: 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! thank you so much everyone <3 sorry if the writing on this ones a little sloppy, this one’s mostly self indulgent and i was half asleep when making this so i didn’t really know what i was writing down. anyways, hope you guys enjoy this, love you all xx.

you loved your husband. your relationship was everything you’ve ever wanted. a nice house in a beautiful suburb — white picket fence and all — a doting husband, and an idyllic life that seemed straight out of a hollywood movie. each day was laced with domestic bliss.

everything was perfect, living the dream with the perfect husband. you don't even remember the fact that he took you away from your family. or that he was systematically drugging you, slipping small doses of amnesiacs into your food and drink to keep your memory fuzzy and prevent you from remembering the fact that he was basically abusing and raping you on a daily basis. the drug kept you docile and unquestioning.

sometimes, you have nightmares about it, though you can’t really remember anything, and you think they’re just things your brain like to make up.

you woke up with a start, your hands clenched tightly into fists in the bed sheets as your breath came in sharp and fast. the room was quiet, except for the soft ticking of the clock. it’s the same nightmare, the same thing that leaves you feeling disoriented and unsettled, but you can't recall the details.

you felt your husband shift behind you, his warm body pressing against yours. "mm, baby," his groggy voice rumbled sleepily, his hands slipping around your waist to pull you closer against him, a touch meant to be soothing. his chin rested against your shoulder, his lips trailing languidly across the nape of your neck. “you okay?”

“another nightmare?” he murmured lowly, sensing your unease.

"i— i'm gonna throw up,”

a slight pause and then leon sprung into action. he immediately rolled over and gently pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest while he carried you towards the bathroom.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. let it all out,” he soothed, his voice a soft, comforting murmur as he cradled you closely. he leaned you over the toilet, holding your hair back as you wretched and retched.

he held you close to him, gently massaging your back with one hand, stroking your spine soothingly with his fingers, all while using his other hand to hold your hair back.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered softly, pressing gentle kisses on the crown of your head, his arms holding you firmly yet gently as you hunched over the toilet. his free hand reaches over to grab a clean towel and wiping away any remnants of vomit from your lips.

after a few moments, your body slumped and you gasped for breath, leaning against him for support. he continued to hold you gently, running his fingers softly over your clammy skin.

"tea?" you looked up at him with hazy eyes, still feeling queasy. the room was spinning and your stomach churned at the mere thought of food. but the idea of drinking something soothing sounded nice.

"yes... please,"

he ushers you into the kitchen, fetching a tea bag and a cup from the cabinet and pouring in some boiling water from the kettle. he sets the cup on the table and takes a seat across from you.

“here,” he hands you a steaming mug of tea, his large hand brushing against yours for just a moment. you take a sip and it tastes strange — slightly bitter and with a weird aftertaste. but it does seem to ease the churning in your stomach.

he sighs in relief as you take another sip of your tea, not noticing the small pill dissolved in the cup.

“there we go, sweetheart. i know you've been feeling a bit under the weather lately. that’ll help you relax and feel better in no time,”

he smiles warmly, pretending to care about your wellbeing, when in reality he's just trying to keep you sedated so you don't realize what a hellish existence you're living.

you blinked slowly, the warm tea feeling good as it slid down your throat. the room was still spinning a bit, but you felt yourself starting to relax. leon watched you carefully, relieved that the nausea seemed to be subsiding.

“feel dizzy,” you mumble slowly.

he reached across the table to pat your hand gently. "there, there sweetheart. why don’t i take you back to bed so you can rest? you’re clearly exhausted,"

without waiting for a response, he helps you to your feet and steers you towards the bedroom. you stumble and sway on unsteady legs, unable to resist as he guides you. once you're on the bed, he covers you with a blanket and tucks you in snugly.

"oh, my poor baby.. i’ll join you in a few minutes, just gonna wash up the dishes in the kitchen."

you can barely keep your eyes open as the drug pulls you under. your last thought is wondering why you feel so tired all the time, before slipping into a deep, medicated slumber. you snuggle deeper into the blankets, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. leon lingers by the bedside, watching you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

soon, your breathing evens out and your body goes limp, succumbing to the drug's effects. leon smiles, satisfied. he knows he has a window of opportunity before you wake up again. without wasting any time, he quietly slips up your nightgown, exposing your tender flesh to his hungry eyes and eager touch. his hands roam freely over your body, groping and squeezing as he pleases. he reaches up and cups one breast with each hand, weighing them appreciatively.

he leans down and starts planting wet kisses across your neck and chest, staying close so you don't stir.

then he's on top of you, shoving his pants down and mounting you roughly.

your moans and protests are muffled by your sleep-addled state as he ravages you mercilessly, using his big, strong hands to hold you down and shut you up.

“l-lee—leon,” you manage to mumble.

leon silences you by reaching down and forcing two fingers into your mouth, thrusting them between your lips.

"shh, ‘ts okay baby," he hums into your ear, giving your cunt a light slap that makes you yelp around his fingers. "such a good girl, taking it so well," he praises you with a growl as he works your mouth open with his fingers, stretching your jaw wide for his invasion. your protests are swallowed by your own gag reflex as he fucks your face with no regard for your well-being.

your mind is hazy and you can't seem to rouse yourself enough to push him away. he's just too strong, too overpowering. you're at his mercy, helpless to resist as he takes what he wants.

his fingers finally slip free from your mouth, coated in saliva. he uses that same hand to roughly spread your legs further apart, pleased with how easily he’s able to violate you in your vulnerable state.

he flips you upright and pulls your hips back, exposing your pussy to the air. he runs a finger along your slit, feeling how wet he's made you.

"look at you, getting all worked up over nothing," he chuckles darkly, spreading your lips and poking his big finger into your entrance.

“so wet f’me,” he coos, sliding his finger inside you and starts to pump it, scissoring it to stretch you. you moan and wriggle against him, still only semi-conscious.

leon ignores your attempts at protest, too focused on his own pleasure. his hips start rocking, his hard cock rubbing against your thighs as he uses you like a doll. “fucking slut, getting off to this," he growls, giving your clit a harsh pinch that makes you whine. his words are thick with insincerity, a mocking edge to his voice as he uses the pet name he knows you love. in reality, he despises you and views you as nothing more than an object to use at his leisure.

you try to push him away with your sleepy hands, clawing and flailing your arms, but he pins them to the mattress easily. he's too strong, and you're too weak from the drugs coursing through your system.

“be good and stay still," he growls, smashing his mouth down on yours to muffle any screams that might escape. his tongue probes aggressively at your lips, seeking entry. you cry out as he thrusts his thick cock into your resistance, splitting you open and making you scream. his hips start pounding into you with renewed vigor, bouncing off your ass as he breeds you hard and fast. the bed creaks and shifts with each brutal thrust.

"so fucking tight," he groans, starting to piston his hips, using your throat for leverage.

he grunts and growls as he ruts into you like a beast, your body sloppily pressed against his. your head is forced to bob up and down on his cock as he thrusts, drool streaming down your chin. your muffled whimpers and protests are lost around his shaft. “look at that, you take my cock so well baby," his filthy words are punctuated by sharp smacks to your ass and thighs, keeping you off-balance and unable to fully rouse. he's relentless, using your mouth and body for his own sick satisfaction.

your struggles weaken further as the air gets cut off from your lungs. he pauses to spit in your face, the slick substance mingling with your tears and drool. “what’s the matter sweetheart? can’t breathe?" he taunts, smacking your face. "just relax, you can take it." he punctuates his words with a sharp smack to your inner thigh, making you gasp and squirm beneath him.

the bed frame creaks ominously with each powerful thrust, threatening to give way and spill you both to the floor. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, pulling your hair, slapping your ass. he's completely lost in his own pleasure, using you as a means to an end. you try to squirm away from him, but it's futile. he's too strong, and you're too drowsy. he simply reaches up and clamps a hand over your mouth, muffling any cries for help.

"quit fucking squirming," he growls. but somehow, he’s lying. he wants you to fight back, to struggle and make it harder for him. it's more exciting that way. your throat burns as he continues to use it as leverage, twisting your head with every brutal thrust. tears stream down your cheeks, your eyes squeezed shut in fear and pain.

saliva and juices run down your thighs as he slams into you without mercy. your mind is fuzzy and disconnected, unable to fully process the assault on your body. all you can do is endure, a ragdoll for leon to use and abuse as he sees fit.

"atta girl," he hisses. "take it, baby." he punctuates his words with another sharp smack to the ass, the sting adding to your growing pile of discomfort.

you can only moan and mewl in response, too far gone to resist. your body is numb, your mind foggy and detached.

you try to nod, too weak to do anything but comply. he loosens his grip on your throat and moves his hand back to your hip, pulling you against him roughly. his cock throbs inside you, swelling up further as he gets close to coming.

"fuck, gonna cum," he warns, his hips redoubling their pace. you moan helplessly as he breeds you hard and fast, the bed creaking and shifting under you. he slaps your ass hard twice, the sound echoing in the room. he groans, coming with a loud grunt. your body is wracked with shudders as he fills you with his cum, your cunt clamping down on his shaft to milk him for every drop.

when he finally pulls out, you're left gasping and sputtering, drool dripping down your face. you lie there in stunned silence afterwards, sprawled beneath him in a puddle of your own fluids. leon collapses on top of you, pinning you to the bed as his chest heaves with exertion.

you're still drifting in and out of consciousness when leon rolls off of you and onto his side, facing away from you. your mind is a fog, struggling to process the events that just transpired. a small sob escapes your lips as you try to make sense of the pain, confusion, and shame that's flooding through you.

after what felt like an eternity, leon reaches over and pulls you into his side, pressing your body close to his. you can feel his warmth, his heartbeat, away his arms are uncomfortably resting atop your skin.

slowly but surely, the fog in your mind starts to clear. you become aware of the dull ache in your throat, the soreness of between your legs, and the disgust you feel for yourself.

fresh tears spring to your eyes as the reality of your situation comes crashing down on you.

"shh, calm down baby," he whispers, stroking your hair soothingly. but his touch is cold and clammy, sending shivers down your spine.

your body feels heavy and numb, your mind hazy and disconnected. slowly, your eyes flutter open. the room is blurry, the edges fuzzy. you try to move, but your limbs feel like lead. leon's face swims into view, his features distorted. "you had a bad dream," he murmurs, his voice sounding distant.

"just another nightmare, sweetheart. it’s okay, i'm here." his words are slurred, his face wobbly. you try to focus, but it's impossible. your vision starts to tunnel, fading to black. the last thing you hear is leon's gentle humming, lulling you back to sleep.

when you wake again, you'll have no memory of the nightmare, no recollection of the way he violated and degraded you. the drug will ensure that. all you'll know is that you slept fitfully and woke up feeling unwell.

tags: @crowleyco @arcane5019

[dice-n-slice-bitvh]

Hah! Fuck you single bitch, imagine being single.

I'm dating someone, go fuck yourself.

-✂️

Damn, didn't know that toys counted as a sentient being now- Wait, nevermind, not even a preschool toy would want to date you. Stop with hallucinations before you're sent to the Asylum again.

[teaboot]

any punk/emo recs? i love ur posts and wanna find some deep cut punk/emo recs

?? Like, music recs?? One sec lemme dig through my old mp3

...

Okay, so some top punk and emo bands to check out: Links are to my favourite songs by them, for surprises

(Probably not deep cuts, just my favourites)

Get Scared

The Pretty Reckless

Papa Roach

The White Stripes

Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Billy Talent

The Prodigy

Also some alt / metal because I would have *burned the world down* for these back then

Gnome (I know but trust me)

Grandson

Knocked Loose

Static X

Scxrlord

Faceless 1-7

Sub Urban

Ashnikko

Chanmina

Jazmin Bean

Carolesaughter

In This Moment

[doma3681]

Cry of Fear