#substance withdrawal

[irkimatsu]

Sweet sweet angsty smut~

This is my third in a series of pieces about Husk being chained up and muzzled by Alastor as a punishment for... something. I've been vague about it, if we're being honest.

Part 1

Part 2

This piece is full on smut, with fem!Reader having sex with Husk while he's chained. Lots of angst; references to abuse, self-harm, substance abuse and withdrawal, all sorts of nasty stuff. But at least you get to comfort Husk through it in any way you can...

---

It’s been several weeks, and neither Husk nor Alastor are budging on their positions in whatever disagreement they’ve gotten into. Until someone gives in, Husk will remain here, leashed to his bed and muzzled, while you do all you can to make his isolation a little more comfortable.

Even with your best efforts, however, Husk’s deterioration has been steady. It’s hard for him to consume anything with the muzzle on, for one thing. You bring him food scraps and alcohol whenever you can, but it’s so hard for him to eat and drink with his mouth blocked like this, and in his weakened state he can only try for so long before his body gives up on the effort. At least he can splash some sink water into his mouth when you’re not there; Alastor gave his leash enough slack to let him use the bathroom, though that likely had less to do with compassion for Husk and more to do with not giving Niffty a disgusting mess to clean up. It’s difficult for him to do, but it’s one thing that saves him from feeling completely helpless. The alcohol and nicotine withdrawal hasn’t been easy on him, either; he’s still regularly self-harming to distract himself, clawing open new wounds over old scabs before they have a chance to heal. His fur is sparse and comes out in tufts when you touch it too much, and his wings and tail are only lined with a thin red fuzz rather than the handsome plumage you’d gotten used to on him. He’s never been a healthy weight due to him regularly replacing meals with alcohol, but he’s wasted away so much that you’re beginning to see the outlines of bones beneath his bare skin.

If he wasn’t already dead, you’d be terrified for his life.

Why is he being so stubborn about this? You’ve never seen him defying Alastor this intensely before. Sure, you’ve seen him talking back enough to receive a condescending scold; you’ve even caught Alastor striking him a few times when neither realized you could see, followed shortly by Husk going off to complete something particularly dangerous or demeaning. Husk had even told you about previous times when he’d been muzzled until the substance withdrawal had him begging his owner for mercy, willing to degrade himself however it took to receive just one bottle of precious, life-granting booze. But from what he’d said before, it usually took him days to break, not weeks.

He’s still not telling you what task he’s so desperate to avoid. “It’s better if you stay out of it,” he always says. It’s been a few days since you’ve asked about it, at his request; it was one of the only times he snapped at you while in this predicament.

“Fucking hell, I told you I don’t wanna talk about it! I spend enough fucking time thinking about it when I’m alone in here! Can’t you let me forget for a minute?!”

Despite your deep concern, you’ll grant his request; it’s part of the least you can do for him.

Neither of you have said a word since you arrived for that day’s visit. You brought him lunch, a bread roll and a miniature bottle of whiskey, and laid his head in your lap so you could feed him. He was able to finish the whiskey, and he weakly chewed some of the pieces of bread you broke off for him, but more than half of the roll sits on his bedside table for now as you gently stroke him between his ears, moving gently as to not dislodge what little fur he has left. His eyes are closed, and his breaths are heavy.

You know you need to stay strong for him, you can’t give him yet another thing to worry about, but it takes so much for you to not start sobbing at the sight of him like this.

“Hey… babe?” he asks, his eyes slowly creaking open, his voice hoarse from how little he’s been using it recently. “Could you do something for me…?” “Anything,” you promise as you continue petting him.

You can barely see his mouth behind his muzzle, but his slight smile is visible in his eyes. “I miss… making love with you.”

“Oh… oh, Husk…” That was the last request you expected when you offered him anything. “I miss it, too, but… not while you’re like this…”

“What? Am I not handsome enough for you anymore?” His eyes glimmer playfully as he speaks, somehow.

“You know it’s not that!” you insist. “I just don’t wanna overexert you. You’re having enough trouble eating.”

“Can’t I at least see you?” he asks. “It’s been way too long…”

Surely there’s no harm in that much? Besides, you do miss his skin against yours… “Of course.” You help him sit up and get settled across from you. He leans back on his hands, drooped ears and lidded eyes making him appear as if he’ll collapse any second, but his eyes stay glued to you for as long as you can.

You’re not exactly in the mood to give him a sexy display. You take off your clothes simply, as if you were only preparing to change them. Despite this, he’s still entranced, his breath growing more rapid as you expose more skin.

“Baby…” he breathes out as you throw your underwear aside and spread your legs, showing him the treasure he hasn’t seen for so long. “Can… can I…”

You nod without letting him finish, willing to accept any affection he can handle giving. He weakly leans forward until he flops down to the bed, his face settled perfectly between your legs.

“Fuck…” he whispers, before taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “I’m so thirsty, baby…” You can’t help but gasp as his cold nose rubs up your lips and settles against your clit. His nose may be cold against your skin, but it’s always so comforting, something living; it’s so different from the metal that’s now pressing between your legs, separating his mouth from what he so badly wants.

“I wish we could,” you tell him as you stroke between his ears again, warm breath exhaling from his nose and making you so needy. Normally you’d grab his fur and pull his face in closer, holding him in place while you grind yourself to an overstimulated mess against his hot, rough tongue… but you manage to catch yourself before you accidentally tear out even more of the weak fur that he can’t afford to lose.

An idea suddenly strikes you. “Back up a little?” you ask. Once he finally manages to peel himself off of you, you reach between your legs and sink a single finger into your opening. You gasp and buck at the sensation, teasing yourself as Husk enjoys the show. After you’ve sufficiently excited yourself, you pull your finger out, your slick now coating it, a string still connecting your fingertip to your entrance.

“Come here,” you say, holding your finger out to him. He catches on quickly. He moves closer to your hand and turns his head, allowing you to slip your finger through the side of the muzzle and into his mouth. He moans as he sucks your finger as best as he can from this angle, his tail waving as his teeth graze your skin. He doesn’t pull back until every drop of your cum on your finger has been replaced with his saliva.

“Delicious…” he moans, already drunker on you than he ever is on whiskey, as his tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth in a desperate search for more. Once he finally has to admit that there’s nothing more to be had, he climbs into your lap and buries his face in the side of your neck. His arms hold you tight and his knees squeeze your hips as he presses his muzzle into your skin; he’d be kissing you, at the very least, if there was any way for him to.. “Baby… want you bad, baby…” His words are slow and slurred, tinged with the emotions of a man who could start crying at any minute if he wasn’t so sick of it already. Yet, none of this is enough to drown out the pure need his voice always holds for you in moments like this.

“I want you too, Husk,” you say. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responds as he weakly pushes against your body. He’s in no state to pin and ravish you like he has so many times before; it’s up to you to hold him and pull him down with you as you lay back. He spends a few more moments nuzzling against your neck, so desperate to kiss you, before slowly pushing himself up with his paws and staring down at you.

He whispers your name so sweetly as his body sways.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine…” he says, still swaying. “I can…” He stops speaking to take a deep breath. “Please, just let me…”

“Don’t push yourself,” you urge him as you cup his cheeks, fingers threaded through the patchy fur.

“But I need this… please…”

“If you lay down, I’ll take care of you, okay?”

He nods slowly, and allows you to grab his hips and roll him over onto his back. Once he’s flat against the mattress, he spreads his nearly-bare wings out as he settles in, and looks up at you with eyes so tired, but so hungry. He’s still breathing heavily, as if just that much has him winded, but at least now you’re not worried about him falling and injuring himself further.

Looking at his body like this only emphasizes in your mind how much he does not need to injure himself further. He’s fully naked just like he has been on all of your previous visits, leaving no gash hidden from your worried eyes. Your eyes jump from gash to gash, allowing so much worry to build that you barely react when your eyes reach between his legs. You haven’t even been considering that sort of intimacy ever since this started, and this moment can’t get you to start thinking about it yet.

“Husk…” you whisper, trying your damnedest to stop any of your tears from dripping out onto his skin. You lower your face to his chest to kiss a particularly grisly wound; he groans in response. “Am I hurting you…?”

“No,” he says simply as he wraps his arms around you. “Keep going...”

You keep kissing him, showing every injury as much tenderness as your lips can give. The taste of his blood stings your tongue, reminding you further of the hell he’s been through, but you don’t let it stop you from showing the affection you have so many times before. As you kiss him, you trail your fingers over his concave stomach, lightly brushing his skin until your fingertips find his cock. Despite everything, he’s still able to stand at full attention, and he twitches the instant you touch him. You wrap your hand around him and gently squeeze, and he moans softly as his head tilts back, his hips so slightly jerking into your hand a couple times before giving up and lying still.

“Please,” he begs with a struggling exhale. “Please…”

Still stroking him, you move back up his body to press a series of kisses against his muzzle, continuing on no matter how much the cold steel tries to remind you how meaningless the gesture is. “Are you ready?” you ask.

“Please…” he repeats. “Please make love to me…”

You take your hand off his cock and brace yourself by placing both hands on either side of his head. “Anything for you, Husk…” You press one final kiss against his muzzle, letting it linger as you lower yourself onto his cock. You both share a moan, as close to each others’ mouths as you can both get, as you slowly sheath him inside you.

��God…” he murmurs as his claws lightly flex against your back. “I’ve missed you so fucking much…”

You slide up and down his cock, moving slowly and gently, trying so hard to not hurt him in his fragile state. His chain clatters against his headboard with every thrust, but you manage to block out the sound by focusing more on his breaths and moans. So many times before he’s had your brain screaming for you to take him fast and deep, to ride him rough like the wild animal he is… but that part of your mind is dead silent now.

He’s said it before. He’s not an animal, no matter what he looks like now or how Alastor treats him. And you’re determined to reassure him of that by letting him indulge in emotions and desires that are so deeply human.

You lay your body over him and gently curl your hands around the backs of his ears. “Is this okay?” you ask him.

He nods with a small grunt.

“Tell me if it hurts,” you say. “I don’t want to push you too far.”

Another grunt is all you get out of him before you resume moving, your chests sliding together as you rock back and forth. You wonder if this is bothering his wounds, but he’s not saying anything or making any noises to indicate anything like that. As you ride him, you kiss his forehead and cheeks, letting what’s still exposed of his face feel how much you adore him. He grips your hips and starts thrusting up to meet you, but after a few movements, he groans in pain and lets his waist collapse back onto the bed.

“...sorry…” he murmurs.

“You’re okay,” you assure him with another kiss to his forehead. They’re the last words you say for a while; all your focus now is on how you’re moving, making sure this is everything he needs it to be. Tonight, your pleasure is secondary. Both of you remain mostly quiet throughout the act. Not only is this not something that inspires the sorts of screams and filthy talk you love so much with him, but you absolutely cannot let Alastor hear an instant of this. You don’t even want to imagine what he’d do if he knew Husk wasn’t suffering his punishment, if only for a brief moment.

He still feels as amazing as ever inside you, his barbs greedily pulling at your tender walls with every upward thrust of your hips. And yet, you can’t focus on it as you usually do. His girth stretching you out, his throbs when you move at just the right angle, his tip finding your sweet spot and purposefully hammering it until you can no longer see or speak… none of it matters right now. All that matters are his eyes on you, brimming with gratitude and love.

You kiss away a tear before it can roll too far down his cheek.

“I’m getting close…” he whispers, his eyes not leaving you. In most circumstances, your current speed wouldn’t be enough. Hell, you’ve gone this slow to purposely tease him before, edging him on until he finally rolls you over and takes what he craves.

Given the circumstances, though, you can understand why it doesn’t take much this time.

“Go on,” you say, encouraging him with a small smile. “I know you need this.”

He smiles back before a shudder rolls through his body, sending his head rolling back again with another quiet moan. He pulls your hips down flush with his and holds you in place as he grinds up into you.

“Oh god-” He moans your name in between his pleas to the being that abandoned him so much. Soon it’s only your name that he’s saying, each repetition coming out with more urgent need.

You kiss his muzzle one last time, and his heavy breaths brush past your cheeks as he climaxes inside you. You don’t stop kissing him until you’re sure he’s done, determined to see the gesture through no matter how futile it is. He finishes and softens inside you, but doesn’t pull out right away as he struggles to catch his breath.

You’ll let him stay inside you as long as he wants. He deserves it.

“Lay next to me?” he finally asks. You sit up, hoping that your weight over him hasn’t caused him any further distress, and lift your waist off of him. He rolls over on his side, shifting his wings to a more comfortable position as he moves, and once he’s done moving, you settle into his arms. He nuzzles the top of his head under your chin and purrs weakly as he hugs you close. “Thank you…” he murmurs through his purrs.

It abruptly occurs to you that this is by far the longest time you’ve spent in his room over these past few weeks. “Husk? I’ve been in here for a while… should I le-”

“No,” he snaps as he squeezes you more tightly. “Don’t you dare leave…”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with-”

“Get me in trouble. I don’t fucking care anymore.” His tail lashes as he speaks, not even weakness preventing his feline body from expressing its anger. “He can do whatever the fuck he wants. I’m still not letting you go.” His tail finally calms down as he settles against your body. “I don’t care if he kills me… as long as you’re with me… I won’t let him touch you, I’ll take the blame, I promise…”

No matter how afraid you are for him, you just can’t say no to his pleas. His first act of intimacy with you in weeks, and you were about to leave him in the lurch immediately after? What kind of monster would you be in that case? You already knew that he hates being left alone immediately after sex under the best of circumstances. Leaving him in a state like this could very well kill him via heartbreak.

Instead, you settle yourself into his embrace. His wing may not be able to keep you as warm as it usually does as he drapes it over your body, but you still feel so safe in its embrace.

You’ll do anything to make him feel just as safe.

“I love you,” you whisper, as you try your hardest not to think of this as the last time you ever get to hold him.

[macgyvermedical]

Reference Guide to Writing Drug Withdrawal

So your character has a substance use disorder (or physical dependence to a substance for another reason). This post will tell you how to write a scene (or story) in which they go through withdrawal.

NOTE: THIS POST DOES NOT INTEND TO COVER ANYTHING EXCEPT WITHDRAWAL, WHICH IS A VERY SMALL PART OF SUBSTANCE USE DISORDER AND PHYSICAL DEPENDENCE.

Substance Use Disorders and Physical Dependence:

Substance use disorders are chronic illnesses in which a person continues to use a substance (commonly nicotine, alcohol, cocaine, opioids like heroin or fentanyl, benzodiazepines, etc...) even when acquiring or using the substance can be dangerous or cause significant problems in their life (such as problems with money, safety, law enforcement, job security, child services involvement, or physical problems like wounds, infections, side effects, hangovers, and withdrawal). Substance use disorders are a common cause of physical dependence.

Physical dependence is also it's own problem and can occur for other reasons too. For example, many people take prescription medications that they would go through withdrawal from if stopped abruptly (say, because the pharmacy couldn't fill it in time and they ran out). Assuming that the medication is being taken as prescribed, physical dependence in itself does not mean someone has a substance use disorder.

So what is withdrawal? Withdrawal (sometimes called "detox") is the process by which a body stops being physically dependent on a substance. Generally speaking, it is unpleasant. This is because when a body is exposed to a substance repeatedly, it changes how it functions to accommodate that substance. When the substance is removed, there is a period of time where the body has to re-adjust to not having the substance.

For example, alcohol is very similar to the neurotransmitter (brain chemical) GABA. If you drink a lot of alcohol (more than about 4 drinks per day) for longer than about a month, the body decreases the amount of GABA it makes naturally to accommodate the "fake" GABA from the alcohol. If the alcohol is suddenly removed, the body doesn't have enough GABA, and the effects of not having enough GABA result in withdrawal symptoms.

The difference being, someone taking a medication they no longer want to take can slowly reduce the dose to minimize withdrawal symptoms. Someone with a substance use disorder usually finds cutting back nearly impossible. Because of this, managing physical dependence in someone with substance use disorder generally means giving them a similar substance which they get from a pharmacy and take continuously (methadone, buprenorphine), or a similar substance they can then taper off of in a controlled way (benzodiazepines, gabapentin).

Specific Withdrawal Syndromes:

Alcohol/Benzodiazepines:

These are the only two substances that result in a potentially life-threatening withdrawal syndrome, and it's essentially the same syndrome. As stated above, when taken for either 2 weeks for benzodiazepines or 4 weeks for alcohol, the body decreases the amount of GABA it produces naturally. GABA is the "brake pedal" in the brain, slowing things down and decreasing the amount of activity. If you don't have enough GABA, you get too much activity, which can result in severe anxiety, insomnia, seizures, hallucinations, high blood pressure, temperature, and pulse rate, heart arrhythmias, and confusion.

6-12 hours after a person's last drink, they will experience insomnia, anxiety, tremors, and headache.

12-24 hours after a person's last drink, if untreated with benzodiazepines or gabapentin, they may start to experience hallucinations (they typically know they are hallucinating at this point).

24-48 hours after a person's last drink, if untreated, they may start to experience seizures.

48-72 hours after a person's last drink, if untreated, they may start to experience a severe symptom known as delerium tremens. This is a state where they are hallucinating severely and they don't know they are hallucinating anymore. This is also a state where the person has heart rhythm problems that could result in death. This is the most dangerous period during withdrawal.

If a person makes it through 72 hours, they are usually in the clear as far as life threatening symptoms go, though they may experience mild symptoms like headaches and insomnia for long periods afterwards.

Note that medication for alcohol or benzodiazepine withdrawal like other benzodiazepines, phenobarbital, and gabapentin are given only for the first 5 days of withdrawal, tapering to lower doses each day. This gets the person through the dangerous part hopefully with no life threatening symptoms. It does not mean all symptoms are controlled, but they are hopefully kept on the milder end while the brain learns to make it's own GABA again.

Opioids:

Opioids include a range of drugs including prescription medications like oxycodone, hydromorphone, and morphine, as well as street drugs like heroin. Today, the street drug supply in many places is heavily adulterated. Many samples of heroin (and even "pressed pills" made to look like prescription opioids) contain the much stronger opioid fentanyl (which increases risk of overdose) and the sedative xylazine (which causes wounds) in addition to the expected heroin or oxycodone.

Opioids work by pretending to be endorphins- another neurotransmitter usually used by the body to reduce pain and stress. Similarly to GABA in alcohol use, the body reacts to having sustained high amounts of fake endorphins by decreasing the amount of endorphins it makes itself. This means, when the opioids are no longer present, the body can't make itself feel good or recover from pain.

There are many parts of the body that endorphins work in, including the brain, gut, nerves, and spine. When they are removed, symptoms include:

Nausea and vomiting.

Diarrhea.

Insomnia.

Anxiety.

Increased body temperature.

Racing heart.

Muscle and bone pain.

Sweating.

Chills.

High blood pressure.

There is not really a universal timeline for these symptoms like there is with alcohol. For someone who primarily uses short-acting opioids, withdrawal begins 8-24 hours after the last use (though anxiety and cravings can start much sooner). For people who primarily use long-acting opioids, withdrawal can take up to 36 hours to begin following the last use. Generally, symptoms peak within 1-3 days after they start, and acute symptoms last 10-14 days.

Unfortunately, someone who has an opioid use disorder will frequently experience cravings for very long periods of time (potentially the rest of their life) after they stop use. For this reason, people do significantly better at reducing or stopping use over the long haul if they are taking an opioid replacement drug like methadone or buprenorphine.

Methadone and buprenorphine are prescription medications that a person goes somewhere each day to get (methadone) or picks up each day from the pharmacy (buprenorphine). The drugs essentially make it so the person won't go into withdrawal and will have significantly fewer cravings for as long as they take the drug.

The management of opioid withdrawal is usually done by switching the person from a street drug to one of these opioid replacement drugs. However, it is important to note that methadone doesn't work immediately (usually it takes about 2-5 days of titrating it up to get it to a high enough dose to work, longer if the person has a very high tolerance). Buprenorphine requires a certain amount of time in withdrawal (usually a day or two) before it can be given, or it can make withdrawal worse instead of better (something called precipitated withdrawal).

Once someone is on one of these medications, they can choose to stay on them (recommended) or taper off (nice to be off meds in theory, but high rates of return-to-use).

Cocaine/Amphetamines:

Instead of pretending to be a neurotransmitter, stimulants like cocaine and amphetamines prevent the body from re-absorbing the neurotransmitter dopamine, leading to a whole bunch of it hanging out in the brain. This increases concentration and energy and boosts mood. However, taken over long periods of time, the brain kind of burns out and fails to respond to the high levels of dopamine.

You may have heard that amphetamines and cocaine don't have withdrawal states. That would be a myth. People who use stimulants repeatedly for long periods frequently have a withdrawal that is essentially the opposite of the effects of stimulants- they feel very tired, have trouble focusing, and feel depressed because their brains can't use dopamine the same way they did before the drug use. This may last for weeks after cessation of stimulants.

Unfortunately, unlike with alcohol and opioids, there's not a ton that can be done for this withdrawal. There have been several studies, including testing medications like the antidepressant mertazapine, the migraine medicine topiramate, as well as naltrexone and buproprion (also an antidepressant).

In Conclusion:

There is so much more to drug use, substance use disorder, and physical dependence than I am covering in this post. I am just covering a small part of physical dependence, however the cause, by discussing the effects and common treatments for withdrawal.

Thank you all for reading this far! I hope you learned something and will use it in your writing!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills

Part 1 - Part 3

[izakk-tiberius-kyle]

Itd be just a few minutes before Nuke arrived at the Lux, heading straight for Izakk's room and gently knocking three times before pushing the door open anyways and slipping inside, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, it's Nuke. Got here about as fast as I could."

He idly scratched at his neck, where a suppression collar sat.

@t4ct1c4l-fluk3

Izakk was curled up on the floor shaking, a cold sweat on his forehead. "H-Hey..." His voice is shaky and restrained. "Um...um..." He furrows his brow. "I asked you to come. Yeah."

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Untreated Trauma May Show Up As:

substance abuse

social withdrawal

dissociation

depression

self-destructive behaviors

personality disorders

anxiety

hostility

ADHD

attention

health issues

PTSD

chronic pain

Neurodivergent Girl

[Picture has been edited to look more visible]

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 03 Withdrawals

Simon Riley x gn! reader

Warnings: mentions of substance abuse, opiate withdrawals, vomit

Simon was concerned, he'd been concerned since the bullet tore through the meat of your thigh. He’d been the one to pull you to cover, it had been his hands staunching the blood flow and it had been him you’d leaned on during physical therapy.

Even when the medics had prescribed opiates for the pain. He’d swallowed his discomfort attempting to keep a close watch over you and your usage. You’d seemed fine, seemingly as off-put as him by having to rely on such addictive substances in order to stave off the pain. 

You’d seemed fine. 

Your recovery was going well, the doctors, physical therapists and psychologist had all seemed optimistic that you’d be field-ready in near record time. 

You’d seemed fine. 

How had he failed to notice? He’d seen it before in his father, in Tommy. In hindsight, all the signs had been there. You’d tired more easily, were calmer - lethargic even and your attention span was even shorter than usual. You’d waved it off as the effects of vigorously throwing yourself in training, wanting to get back to your peak physical form. 

Simon had ignored the signs, desperately not wanting to admit that another one of his loved ones had succumbed to the addictive effects of prescription drugs. He’d ignored the signs until it was too late, until he’d found you slumped over in a hallway shivering and covered in sweat. You don’t even notice his presence, not even when he hauls you into his arms and starts running down the hallway all the while trying to shake you back into consciousness. 

It’s not until he deposits you under the cold spray of a shower that you start to stir, moaning in confusion as you attempt to orient yourself. You try to move but Simon has you locked against his chest, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiles. 

“Wha?” you slur, blinking lethargically as you struggle to keep your eyes open. Vaguely you recognise the voice of the person holding you, but you struggle to make out any of his words. Your head is so heavy, chin resting against your chest, giving you a close-up view of a familiar tattooed arm. “Simon?” 

The man grunts his affirmation, one hand moving to sweep the hair from your face. You don’t get to appreciate the gesture for very long before you’re slumping to the side as far as you can within the confines of his arms and emptying the limited contents of your stomach. It burns your oesophagus, choking you as you attempt to breathe through the bile. Tears spill from your eyes from the pain and embarrassment. 

Simon doesn’t comment on it though, simply continuing to hold you up and whisper words of encouragement. You’re uncertain as to how long you stay under the cold spray but at some point, you close your eyes only to wake up in another room, a towel around your shoulders as Simon attempts to dry you off. 

“You need to get out of these clothes love, can you do that?” Giving it a few seconds of thought you nod, waiting for Simon to reluctantly turn around. It’s a struggle but you manage to wriggle out of your wet shirt and dry your torso enough to slip on the shirt Simon had laid out next to you. It’s a long and tiring process and more than once you’d had to reassure Simon you were still ok. 

Though you were quickly forced to admit that you needed help, all of your muscles shaking uncontrollably. “Si, I need help” you quietly admitted. Turning your head to the side in shame, closing your eyes so wouldn’t see his disappointment. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Simon is infinitely respectful, averting his eyes to maintain as much of your modesty as possible. 

His touch is gentle, though every slight brush of fingers on your skin burned. He continues to act in silence, bundling you up in what you now recognise as his blanket. It’s enough that the dam finally breaks and you start sobbing earnestly, chest heaving for air as you lay shivering in his bed. 

“‘M sorry.” You moan unable to articulate your shame in any other way as you continue to apologise over and over. Simon doesn’t offer a verbal reply but he does take a place by your side, smoothing his hand through your wet hair. 

Time becomes meaningless after that and all you know is misery. Your body fluctuates rapidly between hot and cold flushes that have you attempting to escape from the cocoon Simon has you trapped in. Yet the hulking abomination won’t let you move, even as you snap and scream at him. He’s not even phased by the intense nausea, placing a bucket beneath you just in time as your traitorous stomach continues to expel bile even when your stomach is beyond emptied. 

He wipes your sweat and hydrates you, taking your hurled abuse stoically, never once blaming you. He maintains his silent vigil, sacrificing his own sleep to watch over your own incredibly broken slumber. Much to your own horror he even escorts you to the bathroom, never more than a few feet away. It’s a new level of mortifying, the entire experience frays your nerves down to nothing. Yet no matter what you throw at him, Simon stays. 

“Why are you helping me? You should’ve handed me off to the med bay. ‘Ts not your job to clean up my fuck ups” you whisper. The question comes a few days into the torture, you’ve regained some clarity but the hellish symptoms showed no sign of improving. A few minutes ago you’re pretty sure you’d even called him ‘fuckin cunt’ when he’d refused to give you any sort of medication. He pauses in his movement of using a wet cloth to wipe the sweat from your forehead, barely taking any time to think of a response. 

“Do I need a reason?” There’s a heaviness to his words that you don’t quite understand and he doesn’t elaborate. How could he explain to you, the sheer terror that had grasped his heart when he’d found you slumped over? The self-loathing he’d been battling since he’d come to terms with your affliction? 

“No… but I’d like one. I’m pretty sure I vomited on you a few times and you didn’t even complain. I’d have decked you for that.” It’s an attempt at a joke but it evidently doesn’t land, his hand stilling in its path as he seemed to have some kind of internal debate. 

“I care about you, that’s reason enough.” He offers no further elaboration and you sense that you’d already pushed far enough for the moment. 

“Well now I just feel like an arsehole” you mumbled, trying to lighten the mood. Luckily your remark gets a light chuckle from your brooding companion as silence descends once more. A wave of exhaustion suddenly hits you and for once you don’t fight its pull, though you vow the next time you wake to grill Simon even further. Before you fall asleep once more you manage to mutter, “I care enough about you that I’d let you vomit on me too.” 

The last thing you hear before the darkness overtakes you is a laugh, the first genuine laugh you’d heard from him in days. It’s a small victory but you take it, allowing yourself to finally feel just a little bit of hope.      

[caffeinefafnir]

That's it. That's the reason.

[angelnumber27]

I dont think some people understand how truly awful and hellish withdrawals from some psych medications are.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1332

TW: Substance Abuse | Overdose

Anon asked:

Do you have some prompts for a whumpee struggling with substance abuse after some bad things happening in their life, and their friend / caretaker supporting them through it?

A few:

Maybe the caretaker notices erratic behaviour and decides to address it gently. This could lead to a discussion, or even an argument if the whumpee tries to deny it despite the evidence being clear. (Why do they try to deny it? Are they ashamed? Embarrassed? Worried about what people are going to think?)

The caretaker could find out about the abuse when the whumpee hits rock bottom. They could get a call from the hospital/a concerned friend etc. Maybe they haven't heard from the whumpee in a few days, so decide to do a welfare check of sorts. They could get there just in time to witness the whumpee overdosing.

Does the whumpee relapse? Do the caretakers threaten to give up on them?

^ I like the idea of the caretaker saying that in private, but the whumpee accidentally overhears.

During recovery they celebrate small victories - a day sober, three days sober, a week sober etc etc. It becomes tradition to get a cake for every milestone. Maybe at a longer milestone - when the whumpee as gotten much better - it's not until late at night that they realise it's a milestone day. Their only option is to go to a gas station to find a cake, but their only choices are the questionable hotdogs, flowers, a chocolate bar, or even more questionable sushi.

At first the whumpee rejects professional help, but seeing the strain it puts on the caretakers, they decide to seek out a therapist.

Don't forget the withdrawal symptoms.

What kind of coping mechanisms do they put in place? Chewing gum? Knitting? Folding laundry?

On the emotional side - the whumpee has to work very hard to repair the relationships they damaged.

[toyintrance]

psychiatric meds rated by sexual side effects:

Zoloft: did not take long enough to notice an impact on my sex drive but if you're into emotionless detachment then maybe?? 1/5

Wellbutrin: premature ejaculation in a little pill form. 'course I cum fast, I got fish to catch! horny frequently, rarely satisfied despite having orgasms like clockwork. 2.5/5

Adderall: at my current dose the first few days after a break feel like going into heat quite honestly. this does level out but the baseline sex drive is still higher than it would be unmedicated. 4.5/5 (I've heard that it can cause ED in dick havers)

cymbalta: I sure hope you like orgasm denial! (0/5 before brainwashing. 5/5 currently.)

[weirdstrangeandawful]

‘It’s not withdrawal. It’s fine. I’ll be fine until tomorrow. I just missed a dose of my shitty fucking beta blocker. It’s totally fine!’

*takes a leftover lorazepam from surgery a while back*

*symptoms vanish almost completely about 20 minutes later*

Lorazepam doesn’t even work on me as a sedative, that’s why I still had one tablet lying around after surgery in July. And yet it seems to work damn well for this.

[smashing-yng-man]

I've done it all - attended Alcoholics Anonymous twice a day, five days a week. Memorized the fourth edition of the "Big Book" from cover to cover. Admitted myself into two different rehabs, staying 60 days each time.

What has ultimately kept me sober from drinking is confiding in my therapist and taking a combination of Acamprosate and Naltrexone twice a day to curb alcohol cravings.

I drank heavily for nearly two decades, and frankly have the experience and genetic predisposition to confirm that addiction is not a choice.

But sobriety and self-care are.

[maretriarch]

why is there any discourse in if x y z addiction (porn, food, screen, weed, etc etc) is real or not. as far as im concerned most addictions are largely psychological (including drugs and alcohol which do have physical dependency aspects as well)...if someone believes they are addicted to something, they need x thing to cope and cant stop and it's detrimental to their life...then they're addicted. ???? people dismiss self reporting as evidence but for smth like this self reporting is the rare case of the only proof u need imho. usually the naysayers are just dependant themselves and are desperately holding onto the fact that well theres no x symptom which means they DONT have a problem. classic -holic move

[neuroticboyfriend]

pray for me... i just caught myself thinking "i'll be fine, i can stop whenever i want" 🥲

[izakk-tiberius-kyle]

Oh

I forgot about withdrawals

Fuck

How do I manage this again?

[mars-ipan]

i want my legs to stop hurting so bad