emetoniche

[emetoniche]

Y’all, I need some prompts or stories you want from me, cuz I want to write something but I’m coming up blank. Any pairings you want to see or specific scenarios with specific characters? Help me…

[emetoniche]

Hii

For the frisky fic 👀 I don’t have anything super specific in mind but I would loovve to see both of them DROOLING over how hot their husband is. (horny jail sorry) by the way, I think I’d sent a request about Jon being gaga over Leo being a lawyer, did you see it or did tumblr swallow it? (No pressure to write it of course)

Alsooo don’t you dare break vin and Wendy up pleasee😭😭 not now after they’ve overcome so much😭😭😭😭 I love the throuple but not at the cost of the og freaks 😭💔

Anddd I’m LOSING my mind over how domestic the first honeymoon fic is!!! 🍄

Used up this ask to write some friskyyy Jon/Leo hehehe + Very upset stomach. Smutty start!

-----------------

Leo couldn't tear his eyes away from Jonah, which was getting a little ridiculous because they had been stranded in Milos for 5 days now, with hardly any contact with their outside world and he still wasn't sick of his husband.

In fact, Leo was convinced they could just get all their things shipped here and start a whole new life.

"I'll go by Konstantin," Leo giggled, pressing his mouth to Jon's neck as he trailed a bunch of kisses all over him, "and you can be Giorgio and we can call JD-"

"We're not changing JD's name," Jonah chuckled, rolling them on the bed so he was on top and pulling back, sitting on his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. God, Leo thought, air all but vanishing from his lungs as he could see sweat glistening his husband's chest, muscles flexing on his bicep and abs as Jon tilted his body back.

Leo gulped down, sinking further against the pillows as he trailed his hands up Jonah's naked thigh, until he could slide them under his boxer briefs and cup his ass.

"Fuck, Jonah..." Leo breathed out dreamily and the other man let out a chuckle, leaning in so he could latch his mouth to Leo's collarbone, a hand tangling in the blonde's hair and tugging slightly.

"I'm planning to," Jon teased, his lips pressing over Leo's nipple, tongue circling it and teeth lightly grazing it, causing the blonde to squirm. His thoughts were all scrambled, the previous conversation fleeing his mind.

Jonah's kisses trailed south, heated mouth pressing all over Leo's chest, his stomach, the inside of his thighs- "No," Leo breathed out, struggling to think, "no, come back here, I want- C'mere-" he tried to put into words that although Jonah gave the most earth shattering blowjobs, right now he wanted to make love. He wanted to look in his husband's hazel eyes and watch how his pupils swallowed up the green as they fit together, feel Jon's breath in his mouth and watch that wrinkle that formed right between his brows a second before an orgasm, followed by bliss that seemed to age him down five years and send Leo back to the first time he laid eyes on Jonah.

Jonah opened a smile, all boyish, then moved up, clashing his lips against Leo's.

Eventually, they made it out of the hotel room. Leo was frankly a little embarrassed by how much time they spent locked inside every day, instead of enjoying the island. Part of him, that one that worried about money all the time despite his tax bracket being different for nearly 5 years now, wondered if it wouldn't have been a smarter decision to go on honeymoon a month after they married, when they stopped being so giddy about each other and could actually enjoy the place.

"What's in your mind?" Jonah asked, an arm wrapped around Leo's waist, sunglasses planted on his face.

"Just thinking we're not enjoying Milos enough," he sighed, leaning back against Jon and smiling as his husband promptly pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"That's fine," Jon shrugged, guiding them down the street. Although Leo had planned a couple activities in each island they'd visit — Milos, Santorini and Rhodes. Leo had ruled out Crete and Mykonos when he learned through Jackie that Jonah had already been there — Jon was the one really guiding the whole thing. Leo didn't mind, he liked not having to think of maps and the order of things, as long as they showed up to the historical tours and the beaches he had delineated, "more the reason for us to come back next year."

Leo rolled his eyes, "yeah right, Dr. Banks, gotta start saving now after all we splurged on the wedding-"

"Leo," Jonah bumped his nose with his, voice all amused, "relax."

Their next stop was a restaurant named Fagitó. It had one of the best reviews when Leo had looked it up online and he was feeling very smug as Jonah opened a huge smile.

It was more of a tavern, with fishing gear scattered around and stone walls, the backside of the restaurant facing the sea and tables scattered under a pergola covered in bougainvillea.

"This place is pretty," Jonah was already holding out his phone, while Leo sat down and leaned on his chair, smiling as he looked out to the sea. This place was so sunny and colorful, he felt like he'd never even know what seasonal depression was if he lived here. It was probably the tourist in him speaking.

Because it was such a touristic place, the menu was in both Greek and English and the staff spoke it too. Leo skimmed over the names, while Jonah continued snapping pictures.

Although they had been away for only 5 days, Leo had to admit he was getting sick of seafood. He was craving a mac n' cheese already, although he didn't dare saying that out loud. Jonah didn't seem to suffer with that problem, since his choice was grilled octopus with tartar sauce, while the blonde picked the only pork option they had.

Across from them in the restaurant's backyard, there was a playpen and Leo followed Jonah's gaze as he watched the kids squeal and yell at each other as they played with the swing and the slider. It was so painfully obvious now that he knew what to look out for, how much Jonah wanted that.

"Stop staring at me," Jon scoffed, catching Leo watching him, and the blonde shrugged, his cheeks burning.

"I'm not staring, I'm admiring," he corrected, moving his chair so they were side by side, "you're the one who's staring at the children."

It was Jonah's turn to blush and Leo grinned at that. His normal brown skin had turned into a bronze shade due to the amount of tanning they both had done by now, which made Jon's smile all the more brilliant and his light eyes stand out even more than they normally did.

Well, Jonah had tanned. Leo had gained a new freckle collection and a painful pink patch on his shoulder, which was now peeling away. To his credit, Jon seemed delighted by the freckles, especially the ones that had appeared on Leo's nose bridge.

"They're cute," Jon shrugged, averting his eyes from the children, "have you change-"

"Nope," Leo planted his chin on Jonah's shoulder, "I haven't changed my mind."

"Good," he leaned back, curls tickling Leo's temple, whole body relaxing, "wanna see the pictures I took? The sea here is to die for..."

Their dishes arrived 30 minutes later and Leo wrinkled his nose as Jonah tried to force him to take a bite of the octopus.

"First slugs, now octopus? No thanks, hard pass," Leo scoffed, pushing Jonah's hand away as he held up a tentacle in front of his mouth, "all yours."

"Coward," Jonah grinned, before stuffing his mouth with it, "it's really good and you're missing out."

"I doubt it," Leo shrugged, continuing to eat.

About an hour after they finished, while they sat around eating dessert and chatting about the weird wedding gifts they had gotten, Jon started to get fidgety. Leo noticed how he was bouncing one leg nervously and how he kept closing and opening his hand. Other than that, though, he seemed fine. Maybe he was anxious...?

"Here," Jonah interrupted his thoughts, shoving the rizogalo bowl he had been holding into Leo's hands, "I gotta go the bathroom."

Leo raised his eyebrows at his harsh movements and unceremonious confession, but before he could say much else, Jon was darting away. He frowned, then let out a sigh and finished up his own dessert bowl. When it took more than ten minutes for Jonah to return, Leo went to pay the bill and wait for him outside.

He checked his phone. 01:48 PM, a late lunch. Maybe they could head down to the beach once more, sprawl in the sand and take it easy? Unless Jon had different plans, he had been mentioning wanting to go to the catacombs-

"Sorry," Jonah winced as he stepped out of the restaurant, now holding a water bottle, "didn't mean to take so long."

"That's fine," Leo shrugged, studying Jon. He still seemed a little shaky and there was perspiration clinging to his neck, but otherwise he seemed alright, "are you okay? Is your tummy upset?"

"Not really," Jonah shook his head and Leo squinted, wondering which question he was answering, "I'm fine, don't worry. Let's go? The catacombs close at 3 and we still gotta get a taxi there, it's across the island."

Leo didn't think he was fine, but he bit down his retort. Maybe he was overthinking it, it was a really warm day so that explained the sweat and, besides, Jonah didn't seem sick.

"Sure, let's go," he intertwined his fingers with Jon's, letting him guide the way.

The taxi drive to the catacombs was much less pleasant. Leo's lunch churned inside his belly as they went down the dizzying streets, the fact that he was sitting in the backseat making his carsickness worse.

Just as he was about to ask the driver to pull over, the car came to a stop and Leo stumbled out, planting his hands on his knees and taking slow breaths.

"Love?" Jonah put a hand on his back, "the ride made you sick," it wasn't a question, "here, take a sip. Slow," he pushed his water botte in Leo's hands and the blonde took it, taking a couple small sips and then pressing the cold plastic to his forehead, hoping to push down the throbbing that the carsickness brought to his head.

"You need a minute?"

"No," Leo thumped his chest, until he managed to push up a small, sickly burp, "I'm good, let's go."

The catacombs were part of a volcanic tunnel web, although man had made most of the extra tunnels. There were a couple tunnels closed from visitation, but they still walked around the arcades, following the signs so they wouldn't get lost.

Leo felt slightly claustrophobic, so he was more than glad when the guide announced they were closing and everyone needed to leave. The place was gorgeous, moody and seeming straight out of a spooky movie, but they definitely didn't need to be in there when the sun started to set.

Outside of the catacombs there were several gift shops, street vendors showing little miniature of the tunnels, postal cards, little hourglasses, Christian figurines-

"Can you get us some post cards?" Jonah asked, pressing a kiss to his temple, "I'll buy some gum, you want anything?" he gestured to the little café a couple dozen feet down the street.

"Nope- Well, minty gum would be nice," Leo relented, thinking they'd need to go into another carsickness inducing ride back to the hotel. Maybe he could convince Jonah to just walk with him, the streets were deserted enough and they'd be walking down the hills, not strenuous activity...

Jonah returned almost twenty minutes later, mumbling something about a line, and shoving the gum package in Leo's hand.

"I got us some post cards," Leo raised the ones he had picked, "and this cute hourglass. I think it'll look adorable in my office."

Jon offered him a strained smile, "very fancy-" he raised a hand to his mouth, muffling a burp, "uhm- Do you still have the water bottle...?"

Leo was still clutching at it, but when he raised it, they realized it was mostly empty, only one lukewarm gulp left, "sorry, angel... I can run and get you a new one, how abou-"

"No," Jon took the bottle from him, finishing that one measly sip, "can we go? Or do you want to keep shopping?"

Clearly he was trying to keep the good spirits, but Leo knew Jonah enough to know that he was no longer in a good mood, probably cranky because they hadn't seen the whole thing.

"No, I don't wanna keep shopping," Leo relented, fixing the tote bag on his shoulder and reaching to grab Jonah's hand, only for his husband to pull it away, shoving them in his own pockets. Alright, dickhead. Leo had been considering stomaching another nauseating ride, but as he felt a wash of pettiness over the open rejection, he got bold enough to say, "can we walk back to the beach? I don't think I can deal with another crazy cab."

Jonah's face clouded even more, jaw locking in a frustrated manner and Leo let out a breath.

"Jon," he scoffed, "please?"

"Sure," Jonah nodded, "let's go then..."

They were about fifteen minutes into walking when Leo started to feel a little guilty. Jonah hadn't been that much of a dick to warrant walking for nearly an hour, even if it wasn't a difficult walk and the scenery was gorgeous. He bit down his lip, trying to make conversation, "if you want, we can come back tomorrow during morning..." Leo said, speeding up. For some reason Jon was power walking instead of enjoying the view, the nice warm breeze, the charming little houses and the pink flowers littering every corner, "I didn't realize you wanted to see the catacombs so badly."

"No, it's fine," Jonah rubbed his neck, "the other rooms aren't gonna be any different from the ones we saw."

Leo pouted, "Jon, don't sulk, c'mon. I'm sorry about the catacombs-"

"I'm not sulking," he groaned, interrupting Leo's unnecessary apology, "really. I just wanna get back to the hotel."

So much for not sulking. Leo let out a sigh, but opted for letting it go, "if you really want, we can call a taxi. It's still gonna be more twenty minutes walking-" probably more, considering the twenty minutes would lead them down to the beach, but there were another ten minutes back to the actual hotel.

Leo fully expected Jonah to stubbornly deny his suggestion, so he was surprised when the other man paused and then nodded, "I'd like that... But it's not gonna make you too sick?"

"Hopefully we can get a driver that doesn't drive like a maniac," Leo smiled at him, fishing out his phone, "give me a second."

Jon was bouncing on his feet as they waited the eight minutes for the car to arrive and slowly Leo started to piece things together. Aided entirely by the sickly growl that his husband's stomach let out as they entered the car, Leo realized Jonah wasn't pissed off — or at least, not just that — but feeling sick.

He should've guessed.

Leo opened his mouth to say something, but the driver knew English and kept talking with them. Jon had given up on answering, so the task not to be rude befell on Leo and all he could do to comfort Jonah was squeeze his nape while the older driver continued to chat their ears away.

By the time they parked in front of the hotel, Jonah didn't so much as wait as Leo paid the driver, bolting inside like a slingshot. Leo cringed, sympathy washing over him. He took his time walking inside the hotel, picking up some Gatorade in the vending machine, then getting back into their room.

The bathroom door was shut and Leo grimaced, lightly tapping his knuckles against the door, "Jon? You're okay?"

"FINE!" His answer was annoyed, voice a little too loud, causing Leo to jump away from the door with a frown. Dickhead strike number two.

He set down the Gatorade bottle on the bedside table, then turned on the TV and moved the balcony to watch the sun set over the horizon, a ball of orange melting into the sea and leaving behind a bright purple sky littered with tiny stars.

Behind him, the bathroom door opened and Leo turned around once more, only for his eyebrows to vanish in his hair, "Jon... Oh angel, you're not okay..."

He expected some sort of futile resistance, Jonah trying once more to dismiss him saying he was fine, but instead he got a pitiful groan. Jon folded forward, an arm wrapped around his stomach.

"I'm sorry..." he whined, causing alarm bells to go off in Leo's head and he crossed the room in two large steps, reaching in to grab Jon's arms, "I don't feel well..."

"I can see that," Leo scoffed, studying him closer. Now he was drenched in cold sweat and he was trembling all over, his belly was sticking out against the gauzy fabric of his shirt, gurgling loud enough that Leo could hear it even though he was a good ten inches away, "your tummy's upset...?"

Instead of answering him, Jonah pitched forward with a wet burp, barely managing to muffle it in his hand. Hunched forward, he wrapped an arm around his belly, eyes squeezed shut, "I feel really gross, Leo..."

"Oh baby," Leo cooed, his heart clenching, "you should've said something sooner, we'd have come straight back to the hotel..."

"I didn't- I didn't think it was that bad, but-" Jonah sucked in a breath as he collapsed on the bed, curling up on the fetal position, both arms wrapped around his belly, "fuck, it hurts, Leo."

Leo frowned, sitting by his side and carefully trying to uncurl his husband, "crampy? Have you been sick?"

"No, just- Just diarrhea," Jonah grimaced, his cheeks burning with humiliation, then another sickly burp rolled out of his mouth, "but I feel like it wants up too-"

"Ew," Leo couldn't help but tease, wrinkling his nose. He undid Jonah's pants, rolling down his hips and then let out a whistle at how horribly bloated the other man was, "that damn octopus wants you to suffer, uh?"

It was the wrong thing to say, because Jon pitched to his side, hanging his head out of the bed as he suddenly gagged. Now he looked grey. Leo cringed, glancing around the room for a trashcan and settling for the abandoned, empty champagne bucket.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on-" the blonde chanted, rushing across the room and skipping back, holding the bin up under Jon's chin, but all he managed to catch was some droll and a collection of pained groans, "false alarm?"

"Nhumfhgh," Jonah mumbled, pressing a hand to his belly and wincing as it forced up a brassy belch, thick and turning frothy at the end. He spat inside the bucket again, panting, "it's not gonna- Stay down..." his stomach let out a loud, watery gurgle and Leo cringed as he saw the rest of the color vanish from Jonah's face, making him look almost corpse like.

"Oh fuck-" Jonah pushed himself up, grabbing Leo's arm, "fuck, Leo, help-"

The blonde didn't need anymore explanation, not when Jonah sounded so desperate. He wrapped an arm around the other man, pulling Jon to his feet and skipped across the room with him, all but dropping him on the toilet.

As soon as Jonah managed to shove his pants down, his belly contracted and he let out a whimper, covering his face with both hands as the runs plagued him. Leo winced, happy that Jon couldn't see his disgusted frown.

He squeezed Jon's shoulder, "I'm gonna wait outsi-"

Leo never finished that sentence, as Jon's convulsed under his hand and then a wave of bright red puke fell right between his legs, splattering on the ground and his ditched pants. Leo froze on the spot, eyes wide. He wasn't sure he had ever witnessed Jonah this sick...? At least not when he wasn't sick himself as company.

"Leo-" Jon's voice was muffled, thick with nausea, "Leo, bu-URugo-bucket," he retched mid sentence and the blonde finally snapped back into his senses, rushing out of the room to retrieve the champagne bucket.

He planted it on Jon's lap just in time for his lunch to make a kaleidoscopic reappearance, a thick gush of semi digested sludge falling inside of it. Jonah whimpered, pressing his forehead to the metal and letting out a string of tiny burps. His knuckles turned white on the rim as another cramp wrecked through him and Leo felt a pang of guilt.

They should never have walked after the catacombs or set foot in that restaurant, which had been Leo's pick too.

Jonah coughed, gagging once more and leaning over the bucket to bring up a small, but much thicker mouthful of sick. Once he was done choking on it, he continued to hoover over the bin, unsure if it was safe to move away.

"Angel," Leo crouched down, trying to collect himself, "Jonah, I think you're done. Can I help you into the shower?"

"This is so-" Jonah's voice echoed inside the bin, followed by another deep, gurgly belch, "so undignified... It's our honeymoon..." he sounded close to tears and Leo let out a sigh.

"It's pretty gruesome," he relented, smoothing Jonah's curls back, then running a hand down his trembling back, "but I don't need you to be dignified, Jonah, I want you to feel better. Let me help?"

Jon let out a sigh, which was quickly followed by another angry whine from his belly, "I don't know why it's- It's churning like that. I'm wrung up."

Considering that as close to an admission of defeat as he was gonna get, Leo carefully peeled Jon's fingers off the bucket, hitting the toilet flush twice and then turning up the shower. Although it was summer and they had been taking lukewarm, almost cold shower, this time Leo turned the water warm, hoping it'd stop Jon from shaking like a wet kitten.

"C'mere," he hoisted his husband up, entering under the stream as well, regardless the fact that Leo was entirely dressed. The hot water soaked through Jonah's shirt and Leo stripped it off of him, as well as kicked his soiled pants and boxers away, "you're okay?"

Jon nodded, lowering his forehead to Leo's shoulder, "just... Gross."

Leo rolled his eyes, "you're not gross-"

"No," Jonah shook his head, muffling a burp in his fist, which turned productive and he coughed a thin stream of vomit over the drain, "my stomach feels gross still. All of me."

"I'm gonna order you some medicine," Leo decided, regretting the fact he hadn't packed up Pepto. Was that even allowed on a plane? Probably not, "and you'll sleep this off. Goddamn food poisoning-"

Jonah let out a whimper as another cramp hit him, causing him to fold and grab at his lower belly as if he wanted to dig his fingers into his intestines, "fuck..."

"You need the bathroom again?" Leo kept his voice firm, with not a trace of disgust, no matter how awful the situation. The last thing he wanted was for Jon to feel bad about himself on top of how horrible he was feeling.

"No... No, empty. Just-" he was breathless, "crampy. Nauseous."

They stood under the warm water for another minute, before Leo decided Jon was clean enough and needed to lie down. He wrapped up Jonah in the hotel's fluffy robe — despite Jon grumbling at being manhandled, folded like an elderly man as he tried to protect his tender stomach —then pushed him into the bed, exchanging the robe for just a new set of boxers.

"Here you go," Leo walked back from the bathroom after cleaning it up as best as he could, using a towel to clean the vomit on the ground — not much, most of it had fallen on Jon's pants — and washing off the bucket. He planted the clean bucket on the floor next to Jon's head, then broke the seal of the still closed Gatorade bottle, "you think you can stomach a little sip?"

"No," Jonah's eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but sleep didn't seem able to catch up with him, as the cramps continued to squeeze his belly, "can you- Leo," he rolled onto his back, a hand clutching his stomach.

"Yeah, of course," Leo climbed on the bed, falling against the pillows and cuddling closer so he could plant a hand on Jonah's tummy. It was domed, bloated up, and warm to the touch, "try to get some rest, baby."

It wasn't late, just a little past sunset, so Leo was still very awake. He quietly rubbed Jonah's stomach for several minutes, cringing at how sloshy it felt, how vocal it was, until Jon's frown eased up and he started to snore, something that he never did.

Leo moved closer, so he could press the back of his hand against his husband's cheek and forehead, but he wasn't overly warm, just clammy. He pressed a kiss to his temple, then got up from the bed in order to tidy up their room and get a decent shower himself.

Jonah slept through it all, even as Leo ordered up room service so he could have dinner, setting aside a grilled cheese in case Jonah woke up hungry. Instead of waking up, Jon groaned in his sleep and buried his face further into the pillow, curling up and betraying just how unwell he still felt.

Leo combed through their pictures, deleting the ones that were just blurs and didn't have a single thing in focus and favoriting the others he planned to have printed out and put in an album. He did this to both their galleries, then was left with nothing else to do, so finally Leo decided to go through his texts.

Luke had been steadily updating him about what was happening in Welton, sending him a collection of memes as if he really didn't need an answer to keep talking. Vince did the same, although to a much more manageable extent. There was a text from Max, which made Leo's eyebrows raise, a single heartfelt "Thank you for inviting me to the wedding. It was so beautiful and so much fun. I hope I didn't create any problems for you. Have fun at the honeymoon 🥵 make a baby or two"

The last part caused Leo to chuckle, but he hung at the words "I hope I didn't create any problems". That was out of the blue and very weird.

Behind him, Jonah let out another little groan and Leo glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Jon sit up, face all wrinkled from being pressed against the pillow.

"Hey, angel..." Leo said softly, walking closer, "how are you feeling?"

Jonah was still half asleep, since he didn't seem to have heard, wrapping an arm around his stomach and staring at his feet like a broken ventriloquist doll.

Leo sighed, planting a hand on his naked back and rubbing it up and down, "do you think you can drink some water for me?"

It took ten extra seconds for his words to pierce through the haze, but then Jonah scrunched up his face, "Uhm-" he gulped down, but then nodded, "don't wanna... dehydrate..."

"That's right, Dr. Banks," Leo smiled, getting up to get the Gatorade bottle and holding it before his husband, "just one little sip."

Leo couldn't hold it against Jon. He truly did try to drink, but not a second after he had swallowed up the sip, his throat was bobbing dangerously and Jonah bleary looked around for the bucket, leaning over it just in time for the liquid to fall out of his mouth, not even with a gag.

"God," Leo sighed, holding him by the shoulder and wincing at the several dry heaves that followed, "I guess... I guess we can try again later..." Silently, Leo made a pray that Jonah would take the liquid later, because the last thing he wanted was to try and get him to a hospital while in Greece, not speaking a drop of Greek.

Jonah curled back up, falling back in the bed and letting out a long suffering sigh, "what- What time is it?" he asked, his voice barely above a rasp.

Leo glanced at his phone, "just a little past 9," he gently rubbed his hand up and down the side of his husband's bloated stomach, not daring to put any pressure behind his touch. His belly was churning under Leo's palm, angry gurgles under Jon's belly button and crawling up his sides, "how are you feeling?"

"Like hell," Jonah scoffed, squeezing his eyes as another cramp hit him, "I'm sorry- Making you clean vomit in our honeymoon-"

"Oh shush it," Leo rolled his eyes, moving his hand so he could swat Jon's ass in a teasing manner, "shut up about it, I'm the one who's sorry. I hate to see you like this..."

Jonah let out a little scoff, then rolled on the bed so he could press his head to Leo's lap, "just gotta- Sleep it off..."

"Uh-huh," Leo wrinkled his nose, "you've been asleep for hours now... Maybe we should ask the front desk for a doctor-"

"I'm a doctor," Jonah's voice was offended, but he didn't even bother to move from his comfortable spot, "it's just food poisoning, Leo. I won't die."

"People die from food poisoning all the time," Leo argued, struggling to push his lawyer self down. This was hardly an arguing matter, Jonah was right that it had been only a couple hours, but Leo simply couldn't help his arguments, "and you're not drinking any water, dehydration also kills-"

"Leo, your voice is giving me a headache," Jonah sounded much more like himself now, annoyance coloring his words, "just let me rest."

"Fine," Leo scoffed, pouting.

Of course, Jon couldn't see he was doing that, so it caused the blonde to smile when Jonah said five seconds later, "and don't pout."

He squirmed on the bed, so he was propped against the pillows and could continue to run his hand up and down Jonah's back, hoping he'd feel better soon.

Around 10 PM, Leo dozed off, not sleepy per se, but he had forgotten to turn up the main lights and the room was dark, Jonah was warm against him, there wasn't a single noise safe from the occasional stomach whine...

He woke up with the sound of the bathroom door opening. Leo jerked in the bed, like he had just missed an imaginary step, blinking quickly to situate himself. The room was even darker now, Jonah had turned off the soft yellow lamp that was in the "living room" area of their bedroom.

It took him a second to identify Jonah in the dark, leaning on the wall right next to the bathroom door, hunched over so his hands were on his knees and he was taking measured breaths. Leo frowned, shuffling on the bed so he was ready to bolt and catch him in case Jonah collapsed.

It was harder to pinpoint his expression, but Leo could tell his shoulders were shaking-

"Jon?" Leo whispered, crawling out of the bed and walking closer.

Jonah's head snapped up, eyes wide and confused, which caused Leo's heart to race. Please, don't let it be serious, he thought, placing his hands on Jonah's arms, "baby, what's wrong?"

"Nuuh-Nothing," Jon was slurring slightly, voice barely above a whisper, "justsssick."

"Uh-huh," Leo rolled his eyes, quickly deciding his husband was going to be of no help. He planted his hand on Jonah's neck, expecting to feel a fever, but there was none, "did you throw up again?"

A head shake.

"Okay, uhm- Let's go back to bed..." he chewed on his lip, sleepily trying to count the time zones. Would Wendy pick up if he called right now?

Jonah collapsed on the bed, moving so he could curl up under the thin blanket and blinking up at Leo like he expected him to vanish before his eyes.

"How's your belly?" Leo crouched down next to the bed, grabbing the Gatorade once more and checking the hour on his phone. 3:25 AM, "do you still feel sick?"

A nod.

Great, Jonah had puked his frontal lobe because now Leo felt like he was dealing with a five year old version of him. He let out a little huff at the thought, opening a grin, "you're cute looking like a startled kitten and all, but can you use your words, angel? How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Jonah scoffed, causing Leo to beam with a smile. There he was, his usual grumpy husband. It was clear he wasn't speaking because he had no voice, shot from all the heaving.

"Can you drink something?" Jonah's face scrunched up with disgust, so Leo stitched in, "please? You're really worrying me, Jon."

It was a little amusing how much Jonah was wrapped up around his pinky, Leo thought, watching as his resolve melted away and he took the bottle. The first sip was met with a gag, but once Jonah managed to swallow it, he eagerly went for a second one, thirst hitting him.

Leo took the bottle back, "sorry, but we really want that to stay down. If you don't throw up in ten minutes you can drink more," he felt like he was quoting Jonah himself, "did the diarrhea stop? How's your belly-" without waiting for an answer, Leo went in, planting his hand to Jon's bloated middle.

His belly was still sticking out, but the angry gurgling had reduced considerably and it was no longer that warm to the touch. Jonah corroborated Leo's finding by grumbling "it's fine," and then burying his face in the pillow, clearly embarrassed.

The blonde let out a chuckle, pressing a kiss to his temple and climbing back on the bed, "c'mere, love," he said, pulling the sheets in order to drag Jonah closer to him and forcing the other man to uncurl, so Leo could take the spot currently occupied by his pillow.

Jon let out a grumble, followed by a happy sigh as his cheek met Leo's chest and he was wrapped up in a hug, "Greece is getting to you," he mumbled, squirming and snuggling up even more, "you're pudgy."

"Go to sleep, Jonah," Leo chuckled, rolling his eyes and pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "you're delusional."

[emetoniche]

Alright, so it’s been a good minute since I posted a story, but I’ve finally gotten my life together and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea for what I want to write next. I know I never finished that series with them in the Bahamas, but we’re gonna push that aside and pretend it never happened. Eddie had meningitis, or that was the plan anyway for anyone curious. Sorry it never got finished. MOVING ON! Enjoy my first fic back after a months long hiatus.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Roan wasn’t planning on doing much of anything that night. Justin was out with a group of his guy friends, at a bar if she remembered correctly, so he wouldn’t be around for cuddles and a movie like she wanted him to be. Still, she couldn’t be selfish with his time; that wouldn’t make for a very healthy relationship dynamic.

She ended up on the couch, reading through a Stephen King novel. *It* was one of her very favorites, twisted and dark as it was, and it completely engulfed her attention until the front door creaked open around midnight. Roan jumped, so engrossed in her novel that she hadn’t heard Justin’s footsteps or him fumbling with the keys. “Honey? That you?” She called into the hallway, peering over the back of the couch.

A loud groan answered her, followed by a thud. Roan was immediately springing off the back of the couch and jogging into the hallway, where she found Justin slumped against the wall. He appeared to have fallen there, but wasn’t entirely bothered by it. A goofy grin spread across his face at the sight of her, one hand stretching out and making little grabbing motions at her.

“Baaabbbyyy,” he slurred, stretching the word out like he was trying it out for the first time. “You’re he-*hic*-here…”

An exasperated smile formed on Roan’s lips as she took in the sight of her boyfriend, completely and totally wasted on the floor of their entryway. She knew he had called an Uber to get back, as that had been the plan all along, so she wasn’t worried about him having driven home like this. That meant she could allow herself to be properly amused by this development.

“Well where else would I be? I live here dumbass,” Roan said affectionately, crouching down beside him and balancing on the balls of her feet. He seemed to process this for a moment before nodding serenely.

“Right, I knew that.” He sits silently for a moment, then cocks his head to the side to look at her more clearly. “My belly hurts…”

Roan frowned, placing a gentle hand flat on his stomach. She could feel it rumbling and roiling under her palm, a visceral sensation. “Aw, baby, I think you had a bit too much to drink,” she cooed softly, brushing a curl out of Justin’s face. “Seems like it upset your stomach a bit.”

Justin moaned a little, nodding again. “It hurtsss Roan…”

Roan just offered a sympathetic smile, which quickly shifted to a small gasp of shock and horror when Justin suddenly belched loudly, sending a cascade of partially digested alcohol down his front. No gag, no convulsion of the throat, just sick pouring onto his lap and the floor.

Tears instantly sprang to his eyes, guilt flooding his system. Roan hurried to pull his hair back with a hair tie around her wrist, then darted to the bathroom to grab a couple towels. By the time she got back, the puddle had gotten significantly worse and Justin was openly crying.

"Oh, honey, it's okay, you're alright," Roan reassured him gently, using the towel to wipe the worst of the mess from her boyfriend's chest. "You're alright, I promise." Justin only cried harder, and to be honest Roan was starting to get a bit exasperated at this point.

“Alright, baby, I need you to pull yourself together a bit here, help me out,” she chided, tone still soft. She lurched forward to cup her hands, covered in a towel, under his mouth as he belches thickly and brings up a torrent of beer and whatever he had eaten at the bar. Probably a burger and fries, if Roan had to take a guess.

Justin moaned again, tears leaking down his cheeks as the sick pooled in the little towel bowl she made. When the liquid finally stopped flowing for a moment, Roan darted to the sink and dumped the towel into it, shuddering as some of it slipped onto her hands.

In hindsight, a trash bin would have been a better idea, but she had been in a bit of a hurry. She went to grab one now, darting back to Justin’s side and draping the second, clean towel over his lap, dabbing up some of the sick.

Justin groaned again, his head lolling to the side as Roan returned with the trash bin and set it down beside him. His eyes barely managed to focus on her, glassy and red-rimmed, his cheeks flushed a blotchy red from crying and drinking. He looked pitiful. Damp curls clung to his forehead, and a smear of vomit had somehow gotten into his stubble.

“God, you’re a mess,” Roan muttered, not unkindly. She crouched beside him again, reaching for some tissues to gently wipe at his face, her movements tender despite the sour smell clinging to everything. “You got it in your beard, you idiot. How do you even manage that?”

Justin blinked slowly, barely coherent, but managed to murmur a soft, “S’rry…”

“I know, baby. I know you are,” she sighed, wiping him down as best she could without setting off another round. “But you’re gonna have to help me out here. Can you sit up a little?”

He tried. He really did. His arms trembled as he braced them against the wall, pushing himself upright with all the grace of a marionette with half its strings cut. Roan moved behind him quickly, propping a supportive arm under his shoulders. He leaned heavily against her, too drunk to hold himself up properly. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the dampness of his shirt sticking to her arm.

“There we go,” she whispered, brushing his hair back again. “Just lean on me for a minute. I’m gonna get this shirt off you.”

Justin made a weak protesting noise but didn’t stop her as she tugged the soaked, foul-smelling fabric up over his head, maneuvering him gently so he wouldn’t tip over. She tossed the shirt aside with a grimace—it was definitely beyond saving—and reached for the clean towel to drape over his bare shoulders.

“You’re gonna need a shower, or at least a rinse,” she said, brushing his sticky curls back from his face again. “But let’s take it slow, okay? One thing at a time.”

Justin whined softly, clinging to her arm with uncoordinated fingers. “Don’t wanna move… feels gross…”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Roan muttered, pressing her lips to the side of his sweaty head. “You’re gonna feel a lot better if we clean you up. Trust me.”

He didn’t answer, just leaned more heavily against her, and Roan sighed again, adjusting her hold.

After a few moments of stillness—just the soft hum of the apartment and the ragged sound of Justin’s breathing—he gagged again, his whole body tensing against her.

“Trash can, trash can—got you, I got you,” Roan murmured quickly, maneuvering the bin in front of him just in time.

This time, there was less volume, but more heaving. Justin convulsed with a deep retch, bringing up bile and froth, his eyes squeezing shut with the effort. Roan rubbed his back slowly, murmuring soft nothings while he emptied what little was left of his stomach.

“Shhh… that’s it. Let it out, babe. You’re doing okay. I know it sucks.”

He whimpered afterward, collapsing against her shoulder. “It huuurts…”

“I know,” she whispered, pulling the trash can aside and wiping his mouth with the towel. “You’re really paying for it, huh?”

He gave a small, pathetic nod. “I didn’t mean to drink so much… it just… it just kept happening…”

Roan gave a small, tired laugh. “Yeah, that’s kinda how bars work, Justin.”

His brows furrowed like a scolded child. “Don’t be mad…”

“Oh, baby.” Her voice softened instantly. “I’m not mad. Just… a little tired. And kinda covered in puke.”

Justin gave a strangled noise that might’ve been a laugh or a sob, and Roan hugged him gently. “Come on,” she said after a moment. “Let’s get you in the tub.”

It took nearly ten minutes to get him on his feet, between his drunken dead weight and his inability to stand without swaying like a sapling in a windstorm. Roan braced his arm over her shoulders and guided him toward the bathroom, her muscles straining under his weight.

Once they got there, she helped him sit on the closed toilet lid while she turned on the shower. She kept it lukewarm—anything colder would be cruel, anything warmer might make him nauseous again. Justin just slumped where she left him, eyes half-lidded, mumbling barely coherent words under his breath.

“Okay, we’re gonna do this fast,” Roan said, stepping back over to him. “I’m not leaving you alone in the shower, and I’m not getting in with you, so let’s just—arms up.”

Somehow, miraculously, he obeyed. Roan peeled off the towel from his shoulders and helped him out of the rest of his clothes, steadying him as she nudged him into the tub.

He stood under the stream, swaying slightly, his eyes closing as the water rinsed down his bare skin.

“There we go,” Roan murmured, grabbing the detachable showerhead. “Let’s get the puke out of your hair, yeah?”

He made a soft sound of agreement, leaning into her touch as she gently washed his curls with the gentlest shampoo she had. It took a while to get the vomit out, the clumps of it clinging to strands in the most stubborn places, but eventually his hair was clean, and his body was rinsed, and his skin was slightly less clammy.

Roan wrapped him in a clean towel and led him out of the bathroom with slow, careful steps. She helped him sit on the edge of the bed, then pulled out a clean pair of boxers and an old hoodie—his favorite one, soft and broken in.

“Arms up,” she said again, dressing him like a sleepy toddler. Justin clumsily stuck his arms through the sleeves, letting her guide the fabric over his head. The hoodie nearly swallowed him whole, but it was warm, and it smelled like her. He sighed softly as she helped him lie back against the pillows.

“Better?” she asked, pulling the blankets over him.

“Yeah…” he whispered, blinking up at her with heavy eyes. “You’re the best…”

Roan smiled faintly, brushing the damp hair off his forehead again. “You’re lucky I love you,” she murmured. “Anyone else would’ve made you sleep in the tub.”

He chuckled weakly, then winced and clutched his stomach. Roan’s smile faltered.

“Still hurts?”

He nodded.

“I’ll get you a bucket,” she said, standing. “And some water. You need to hydrate, babe. You’re gonna feel like roadkill in the morning.”

She returned a few minutes later with both, setting the bucket beside the bed and pressing the water into his hands. Justin managed a few sips, grimacing at the taste but not arguing. His eyes drooped shut before he could finish the cup, and Roan took it from his hands before he could spill.

She climbed into bed beside him once she was sure he wasn’t about to hurl again, curling up against his side. He instinctively curled toward her, nuzzling his face into her neck.

“Love you,” he mumbled sleepily.

“I love you too,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Even when you’re disgusting.”

He let out a breath of laughter, already half-asleep. Roan sighed and closed her eyes, holding him gently as the room quieted around them. The worst of the chaos had passed, and the rest of the night would be about recovery—his, and hers. But for now, they were safe and warm and together. And that, she thought as she drifted off, was enough.

[emetoniche]

Y’all I am so hungover right now. My stomach is killing me and I keep getting these big gurgling burps. I’ve been on the edge of throwing up twice now and I hate it. I wish I was one of us who liked being nauseous and vomiting, but instead I get stuck with very mild emetophobia and a deep hatred of feeling nauseous.

Me and a couple friends got drunk last night, and I did end up vomiting. It was awful: I couldn’t even lie down without the nausea getting ten times worse. When I eventually did throw up, it was short and quick. Small little heaves that had plenty of space in between them for talking. My equally drunk friend kept calling from the other room to check on me, which was sweet. I was spending the night with him so I didn’t have to walk home all drunk. My house is like a ten minute walk from his place.

Anyway, I kept bringing up these little gushes of alcohol, those Monster Beasts. I only had three, but I’m a bit of a lightweight due to being underweight and I hadn’t eaten much that day. It was way too sweet coming up, and the smell was also very cloying. Made me even more sick to be hovering above that trash can smelling that. I was on a mattress on the floor, leaning off the edge while lying on my side, over a tiny white trash bin with a trash bag in it. Heaving over that only took about two minutes at most, probably less, but I still wish I’d had someone to rub my back while it happened. Too bad my boyfriend broke up with me last week.

[emetoniche]

He’s been feeling off all day, but he’s trying to push it off as just his usual acid reflux. Coughing that brings bile splashing up into the back of his throat, deep wet burps that do the same. He’s invited you over to study for a while, and it’s hard not to notice the way he’s shifting uncomfortably in his chair, burps bubbling up in his chest.

He keeps apologizing every time another belch forces its way into the open air, but you reassure him every time that it’s okay, you understand, it’s not bothering you. After about an hour, he’s gone almost completely silent, the only sounds his ever more frequent burping.

Then, as you’re scanning a PowerPoint and hitting down a couple more notes, he suddenly straightens, hand going to cover his mouth. He’s not looking at you, but his gaze is a bit wild, obviously anxious. A belch from deep in his stomach works its way up his chest audibly, the upset organ gurgling ominously. When he tries to let out the air, it’s not alone. His mouth fills with bile and his half digested lunch. He’s so taken by surprise that it bursts from his lips and out from between his fingers, dripping onto his lap and the floor.

All this is followed by a proper gag, a guttural retch, that brings up a thick wave of vomit. It splashes across his shorts and the soft skin of his thighs, splattering onto the floor. Chunks of his lunch speckle the viscous liquid.

He looks up at you in horror as more vomit spills down his chest, and you hurry forward to pull his hair from his face…

[emetoniche]

Alright, next up on this little series I think I’m gonna call ‘my fave emeto things’, I’ve got a good one. Since returning to college after the Christmas break, I’ve had some nice little thoughts brewing up in my pretty little head (not to mention a total hair change: dyed it blue!). There’s this guy I’m sort of into here, and he’s not exactly what I would call an alcoholic, but he does drink a fair amount. Perhaps you can see where this is leading…

That’s right, next on my list is drunk pukers. I think it’s something about the lack of control, and the way they need help for absolutely everything. Of course, it’s not all drunk pukers, just the cute sweet ones. You know, the ones who get clingy when drunk, and whiny and vulnerable. Those ones. The ones that let you help them and cling to you for support. Holy fuck, I just need me three things right now: a man, a frat party, and too much alcohol.

Just think about it: you and your partner go to a frat party together, and you find a whole case of beer in the fridge. He goes a little crazy, drinking far more than he should, and after the high of it wears down, he starts to feel off. He clings to you, burying his face in your neck and whimpering. His head is pounding and his stomach swirls like a dryer on spin mode. He mutters something in your ear about wanting to leave because he feels funny, words slurred and muttered onto your skin because he doesn’t want to let you go. You guide him outside and into the grass just outside the frat house, keeping one arm firmly around him. He’s leaning on you so heavily, legs practically jelly. As you help him stumble back towards your dorm, only a little walk across campus, he gives no warning, not even a retch. Just opens his mouth and lets a torrent of beer and whatever is left of his dinner come pouring from his lips. You pause, rubbing his back as he heaves again. When he can finally walk again, you hurry back to his dorm room, but spend the next hour kneeling on the bathroom floor beside him as he gags and spits into the toilet. When you finally take him back to his actual room, getting him in bed, he begs you to stay and ends up falling asleep draped over you with his face buried in your neck, arm around your midriff. All you can do is go to sleep and wait for the inevitable hangover that’s bound to come in the morning…

[emetoniche]

okay, so I know I’ve been gone for forever, but y’all know I’ve got all that depression and motivation issues, so college has been plenty for me at the moment. Anyway, recently got a new… toy… and it brought me back to here. Low-key missed this place lol. My point is, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about pukey men and such, and it’s brought me to reflect on my very favorite thing: burping/vomiting.

I absolutely love it when a burp goes all wet and brings up something unexpected. Or maybe, they’re in the middle of throwing up, and they hiccup a bit, which turns into a belch, which brings up a rush of chunky vomit.

I mean, just think about it. He’s been lying in bed, panting and sweaty, trying to avoid waking you up. His stomach hurts, so fucking bad, but he’s been trying to ignore it. He puts a hand to his stomach, kneading at it, and it starts to move a big air bubble. His fist goes to his lips, hoping to muffle the burp he can feel rising in his chest. When he parts his lips to let it out, instead of the air he’s expecting, it’s bubbly and wet. The belch sends a wave of thick vomit over the blankets and his bare chest, waking you up. You turn to face him, scrambling to sit up, the blankets pooling at your waist. He stares back at you with wide eyes, the hand pressed to his mouth dripping with bile and undigested dinner, looking completely ashamed of himself.

I dunno, just a thought 😊

[emetoniche]

holy fucking shit guys I am so sorry. I legitimately haven’t even been on tumblr since November. Idk what happened. Okay, that’s a lie, I know exactly what happened, but it’s a lot of whining about depression and shit, so I’m not gonna bore you with it. Anyways, I am unbelievably sorry that I haven’t posted in months and I will try to get a new story up soon. Luv you guys!

[emetoniche]

Bahamas Chronicles: Part Two

Okie dokie folks, finally got that second installment for y’all. In all honesty, I’m probably the most proud of this one than any others so far. Just the depth and emotion of this one compared to the others is so much more! That’s part of why it took me so long to write: I couldn��t keep it short. That being said, this is a very long one, so be prepared!

tw: vomiting, severe illness, anxiety, brief mentions of abuse

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Callum couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so good. All of his friends around him on a perfect vacation, just hanging out by the poolside of their resort. Not to mention Eddie, whose head was resting on Callum’s lap, snoring softly. Callum brushed a hand through his boyfriend’s curly hair, a smile forming on his lips. He could stay right here like this for the rest of his life and he would be happy.

A screech from the other side of the pool woke Eddie, who jumped a bit pushing himself up to a sitting position. “What the fuck was that,” he groaned sleepily, rubbing at his face with one hand.

“Justin threw Roan into the pool,” Callum answered with a laugh. He could still see the couple wrestling in the water, each trying to dunk the other. To an outsider he figured the scene might look a bit violent, but he knew this was just the way those two were. They suited each other.

“Hm, well can he do it quieter,” Eddie muttered grumpily. He had pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “They’re gonna wake the dead screaming like that.”

Callum shot the other boy a glance, a playful smirk on his face. “Somebody woke up cranky, huh?”

Eddie glared at him, his usual permanently cheerful expression missing. “Whatever, I was just comfy. And hungry. Anything to eat around here?”

The flash of concern Callum felt at Eddie’s angry mood was replaced by his excitement to show a new food to his boyfriend. “Yeah! The waiter brought over these awesome dragonfruit tarts, and I saved one for you. There’s also a mango-peach smoothie if you want it.”

Eddie looked skeptical for a moment, then shrugged, forcing himself to his feet. “Yeah, that’ll do I guess. Where did you leave them?”

He headed in the direction Callum was pointing without another word, his steps heavy. Must just be hangry, Callum thought, watching him walk away. That happened on occasion to Eddie; his mood was fueled by whether or not he had eaten anything in the past half hour or not, or so it seemed to Callum sometimes.

A nudge at his foot brought his attention back to the pool, where Ari was floating, staring up at him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just saying hi,” Ari responded with a sweet smile. “You looked a bit put out when Eddie left.”

Callum chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s being a feckin’ eejit anyway, so maybe it’s best if he’s alone for a bit. Get himself something to eat.”

Ari hummed her agreement. “You can come chill with us for a while if you want, if he’s being too big of an ass.”

The shadow appeared over Callum’s shoulder in the moment he was about to decline, and two strong hands braced on his back, shoving him forcefully into the water. Callum let out a small yelp as he fell in, scrambling back to the surface. His aviators nearly fell off in the process of him flailing to grab onto the edge of the pool, but he managed to take them off and toss them onto his towel back away from the edge a bit. Darius stood above him with a mischievous grin on his face, blonde hair dripping onto the concrete.

Callum let out an exasperated huff of laughter, grinning right back at his friend. “Aye, fair play then, I’ll give ya that.”

Darius just shrugged, doing a front flip over Callum’s head into the pool, where he landed with a gargantuan splash, soaking Ari and making her squeal. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Darius’s neck, clinging on like a monkey. He thrashed around a bit, trying to throw her off, but when she held on he stopped and laughed. “I guess you win,” he conceded, shaking his head.

“Yes!” Ari giggled as she splashed backwards off of his back. She turned to look back at Callum. “See? Come hang with us. Eddie’s just being a pain in the ass right now. You don’t need him to have fun.”

Callum wasn’t honestly too fond of the idea of just leaving without telling Eddie, mostly because he didn’t want to start a fight, but in the end he decided that Eddie probably wouldn’t be back for a while. He had time to go swim around with the others for a bit. Besides, with some food in his stomach, Eddie would be in a much better mood.

An hour later, Callum hauled himself up out of the pool, panting and laughing. He was done for now: he had gotten pretty tired from messing around with his friends. Justin and Roan had gone back to their room just a little bit ago, but Ari and Darius were lying in their little cabana, snuggling together on the circular bed/couch.

Callum looked around, but Eddie still wasn’t back. This worried him, but he tried not to let it show as he waved to the peaceful couple. “I’m heading back to my room, see ya,” he called, plastering a smile on his face. Ari waved back, blowing him a kiss. Darius just lifted a hand to wave without even opening his eyes.

As soon as he was out of their line of sight, Callum bolted for the elevator. He was terrified that he had done something wrong and now Eddie was mad at him. Mad enough to just leave without saying anything. Callum had been extremely careful about making Eddie mad since they had started dating. It wasn’t like Eddie would hurt him or something, he knew his boyfriend would never do that. No, it was just because the thought of fighting with the person he loved most in the world made his stomach do flips.

He hated confrontation with anybody, but especially with the people he cared about. It made him feel gross, like his skin was covered in slime or something. And God forbid the other person were to, say, go to bed angry (cough cough Eddie cough cough), Callum was pretty sure he would just curl into a ball and start sobbing.

The second the elevator hit their floor, Callum was off down the hallway, fumbling to get the room key out of his wallet. He was so frantic that it took him a few tries to actually get the key to work, but when he finally did, he pushed the door open so fast he nearly tripped entering the room. “Eddie? Babe, you in here?”

Complete silence greeted him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, tossing his key, wallet, and towel onto the coffee table in the living space. As he did so, he spotted Eddie’s wallet on the entertainment center beside the television. Callum’s hands shook as he reached for the door to the bedroom, turning the door knob impossibly slow. “Eddie, is something wrong? Are you… are you mad at me?” His voice was shaking almost as much as his hands.

Years of fights between his parents had steeled Callum with a steady resolve to never be like them. He was never going to have those big blow-up fights that they did, and he most definitely was never going to leave the bruises his mother tried to cover with makeup, layers of foundation and who knows what else coating her cheeks and eyes. More than anything, Callum was terrified that if he did end up in a fight with Eddie, he would act just like his father. He knew it was stupid to think genetics would affect a thing like that, but the paranoia hung at the back of his mind, a tiny voice whispering in his ear.

When Callum pushed open the door, Eddie wasn’t on the bed nor in the armchair facing the TV, but the bathroom light was on and shining out from the crack under the door. This calmed Callum somewhat, thinking that maybe Eddie just hadn’t heard him with both the bedroom and the bathroom doors shut. He managed to open the bathroom door, after knocking of course, with a bit of a steadier hand. Well, sort of open it. It hit something when it reached the halfway point, but no matter how hard Callum pushed the door wouldn’t open any further, so he slid in between the door and the wall with a wince when the latch dug into his spine.

Once he had gotten in properly, he glanced down to see what was blocking the door, gasped in alarm, and promptly stumbled backwards quick enough that he smacked his head off of the corner of the door. Groaning loudly and holding his head with one hand, Callum sank to his knees beside Eddie, using the other hand to shake him awake.

Eddie snorted softly, reaching a hand up to swat Callum away, but when the disturbance continued, his eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head a bit to look around. Spit had dried on his cheek where it had trailed from his open mouth while he was asleep and a small puddle of drool was on the floor where he had been. “Cal? Wha- whas goin on… what’re you doin…” he mumbled, still not fully awake. “Your still in the pool…”

“Well, clearly not if I’m sitting here, mo cuishle,” Callum murmured with a small smile, slipping in the Irish pet name that Eddie loved so much. It meant “my pulse,” basically meaning “the one who makes my heart beat.” Eddie had always found it both extremely sexy and adorable.

Eddie’s eyes began to slip closed again as his lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah, guess not…”

Callie reached out, positioning himself so he could pull Eddie up against himself, Eddie’s back pressed to his chest. Callus’s legs spread around his boyfriend, like a fence keeping him contained for fear he might run off somewhere. This was a stupid notion Callum realized after a second, but the position was comfortable and so he stayed in it. Eddie’s head rested on his shoulder. With a low moan, Eddie buried his face in Callum’s neck, turning his body so he could curl into the young man easier. “Sorry I lef’ you down there,” he slurred, voice muffled by Callum’s skin. “I didn’t feel good…”

This comment was followed by a low groan as his stomach gave a very audible burble, bubbles trailing up his throat and bursting into the air as a sickly burp. Callum shook his head, rubbing his boyfriend’s back. “No, no, baby it’s okay, I just wish you had said something.”

“You were havin’ fun, I didn’t wanna make you leave,” Eddie responded. His sentence ended with a hiccup that jerked another moan out of him and he raised a fist to his lips.

“Eddie, I wouldn’t have minded at all. I love you, I want to make sure you’re okay. You worried me when you just disappeared.” Callum’s stomach dropped again just from the very memory of thinking that Eddie was pissed at him, but he didn’t want to bring that up right now, not when Eddie was clearly feeling so miserable. “You shouldn’t be wor-”

Callum had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Eddie’s stomach begin to heave under his palms. The only reason he noticed at all was because Eddie gave a guttural retch, causing a river of sick to cascade down his chest and all over the floor. Eddie hardly seemed to notice: his eyes were still half shut. Callum, to his credit, didn’t freak out like he really really wanted to. He took a steadying breath before pushing Eddie forward so he could stand up. His lap was soaked in vomit, chunks hitting the floor with a wet splat as he stood.

“Okay, baby, you have to sit up,” Callum cooed, trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking. He tried to help Eddie stand by sliding his hands under his armpits, but Eddie weighed half again as much as he did so it wasn’t easy. Luckily, Eddie seemed to gain some clarity back, because he forced himself up, using Callum as a crutch.

He lurched forward, practically throwing himself onto the toilet and managing to whack his forehead off the toilet seat in the process. This new, sharp burst of pain sent his stomach roiling again. He gagged harshly. A thin stream of liquid poured from his mouth into the water below.

At this point, Callum was fucking freaking out. He had completely given up trying to stay calm when his boyfriend had rebounded off the toilet lid. Frantically, he dashed back into the bedroom and swiped his phone off the entertainment centre. His fingers trembled violently as he pressed Roan’s contact. She was good with this kind of thing, and her boyfriend was going to medical school, so they were Callum’s first choice. The phone rang four times before she finally picked up, long enough for tears to start streaming down Callum’s cheeks.

“Callum? What’s up?” The voice on the other end sounded gravelly and tired, as though she had just been awakened from a nap. Callum heard a faint “Baby what’s going on?” from Justin in the background.

“Roan? I-I need h-help,” Callum stammered, voice choked by sobs. “Eddie’s r-really sick and I-I don’t know what to d-do.”

“Fuck, okay, we’ll be right there,” Roan said. She sounded fully awake now, Justin still asking her what was going on in the background. The call ended with a beep, and Callum dropped the phone onto the floor. He couldn’t help it: he dissolved into a renewed bought of sobs, curling into the fetal position on the floor. He had never been good at staying calm when the people he cared about were in trouble, even when he was a kid. His parents’ fights would always send him racing to his shared bedroom to hide under his covers and cry.

The struggle between wanting to stay curled like this forever and wanting to go comfort Eddie, who was still making awful retching noises in the bathroom, raged in Callum’s head for a few moments, then finally he managed to push himself to his feet. His own stomach was churning, though not from sympathy. His anxiety reared its head like a great beast, fighting to take control. He somehow shoved it deep down inside himself in time to register a knock on the hotel room door.

When he rushed over and opened it, Roan and Justin immediately shoved their way in, both looking like they had just rolled out of bed into the middle of an apocalypse. Roan’s hair was tangled, her clothes rumpled, but her eyes were wide as she gazed around the room. “Where is he?”

“Um, bathroom,” Callum stammered, still trying to control his tears. He followed the pair to the bathroom, peering over Justin’s shoulder to see Roan crouching beside Eddie who had his cheek resting on the toilet seat, a long string of drool hanging from his lips into the bowl. Roan tore off a few bits of toilet paper, wiped Eddie’s mouth, then flushed the toilet. Callum watched a thick, brownish-yellow slurry go swirling away. “Is he okay?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course not, he barely even knows we’re here,” Roan snapped, taking a thermometer from her pocket and sliding it under Eddie’s tongue. Eddie gagged a bit, but nothing came up and the thermometer stayed in place.

Callum shrank away from the bathroom, going to sit on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His shoulders shook with heavy sobs, though he somehow kept them quiet. He didn’t want to disturb whatever they were doing in the other room. After a few minutes, he felt the bed shift beside him.

“Don’t take it personally, she just gets focused and doesn’t like being distracted,” Justin said quietly. Callum felt a hand on his shoulder. “I may be the future doctor, but honestly, I think he’s in better hands with her. When she gets going, I don’t think the whole of the Pentagon could stop her.”

Callum took a deep sniff, raising his head from his knees to look at Justin. He felt like such a baby, breaking down like that. He could feel his cheeks heating in embarrassment. “Right, I know, sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for, I get it.” Justin nodded his head towards the bathroom. “I’d probably be doing the same thing if that were Roan in there. Though, it wouldn’t be. That girl’s got the immune system of ten men.” He shook his head with a faint smile, then turned back to Callum. “Right, sorry, got a tad distracted there. But yeah, don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

It was at this inopportune moment that Roan emerged holding the thermometer, a grim expression on her face. “He’s got a fever of one oh four point three,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning on the door frame. “At least that explains why he’s basically delirious.”

Callum’s heart beat immediately picked up by ten paces and his stomach lurched. He tried to speak but instead he gagged into his hand, his system revolting against the raging emotions inside him.

“Oh fuck,” Justin muttered, darting forward to grab the trash bin beside the bedside table. He slid it into Callum’s lap, forcing him to put his legs down from their cramped position. Callum wrapped his arms around the bin, breathing hard.

Roan started forward but Callum held out a hand. “No,” he panted, “Go back in with Eddie, I’m fine.” Roan hesitated for a few seconds, then turned and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Callum did his best to calm himself so his stomach would quit acting up, but with all the thoughts spinning through his head, trying to fight them back only made his head spin, which in turn made his nausea spike. He gagged again, spitting into the bin. “Easy there mate, deep breaths now,” Justin said, patting Callum’s back.

Callum took the slowest, deepest breath he could, but it ended with a retch that finally sent his lunch shooting up his throat. It landed in the wastebasket, the visceral sound making Callum gag again. His stomach slammed inward, his shoulders hitching up to his ears. The heat of his stomach contents through the plastic made him want to drop the bin onto the floor, but he forced himself to hold on through another few bouts, until his vomit had filled the little bin nearly halfway.

His stomach was still angry when he stopped heaving, but it had at least decided to let him stop doing his best impression of the Exorcist child. Justin took the bin from him, setting it on the floor a few feet away where the smell wasn’t suffocating them both. “Feeling a bit better now?”

Callus grunted, not quite convinced yet, but he lay back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. “Maybe. I can’t really tell yet.” He could hear Eddie in the bathroom even with the door closed, alternating between loud retches and muffled whiny sounds. “I wanna go back in with him, but I’m scared I’m just gonna fuck things up even worse,” he admitted to Justin, turning his head to look at his friend.

Justin shrugged. “Yeah, maybe you will.” He paused for a second, then added, “Or maybe Eddie will feel ten times better because one of the few people he loves most in the world is in there beside him.”

Callum hadn’t considered it from that perspective. He pushed himself up onto his forearms, watching the bathroom door. “Yeah…” He stood slowly. His anxiety was still there, running laps and screaming like a banshee in his head, but for some reason his stomach had settled considerably. The knob of the door was cold in his fingers as he turned it. Inside, Eddie was leaned up against the bathtub, eyes closed, while Roan wiped up what appeared to be sick off of the toilet seat. She glanced up when Callum came in.

“He’s not throwing up anymore, but I think he somehow managed to give himself a concussion. His pupils are super dilated and he’s having trouble focusing his vision.” She gestured to Eddie’s forehead, where a bruise was forming. “Did he hit his head falling down or something?”

Callum shook his head. “No, he knocked himself off the lid of the toilet. You know, when he was being sick the first time.” Crouching beside his boyfriend, he put a hand on the young man’s forehead. He was certainly burning to the touch.

At the sound of Callum’s voice, Eddie’s eyes opened just a bit. “M’sorry I made you sick…” he muttered, trying to bring a hand up to Callum’s knee. “Heard you pukin’ in there.”

“No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Callum murmured, cupping Eddie’s jaw softly. “I’m fine, I promise.”

The faintest of wan smiles crossed Eddie’s lips, and he made a quiet affirmative sound. His stomach suddenly contracted, a dry heave shaking his body, but he didn’t move: he just let it shake his body before falling limp again.

Callum pressed a kiss onto Eddie’s forehead then turned to Justin, who was hovering in the doorway. “I think you need to call 999, he’s getting pretty damn bad.”

A frown appeared on Roan’s face. “999? What’s th-”

“Call an ambulance,” Justin cut her off. “Callum wants us to call an ambulance. It’s the emergency number back home.”

While Roan darted off to find Callum’s phone, Callum turned back to Eddie, brushing his curly hair out of his eyes. “Bloody hell, I hope they get here soon…”

[emetoniche]

I’m working on the next Bahamas fix ya’ll, and I swear my brain is just clinging to its last cell. I wrote nearly half of it using the WRONG FUCKING NAME FOR ONE OF MY OCS. In the beginning, I couldn’t decide whether to name Eddie his current name or Leo, and I just apparently forgot which I chose because I just had to go back and change about twenty “Leo”s in “Eddie”s. And it’s not even like I had to ask myself which one I picked. I just confidently started writing using the name Leo. Dear Lord I think I’m just losing it. Someone help…

[emetoniche]

I mean, geez, I was super young when it started for me. Like, really really young. Tw for trauma, sexual harassment, emeto, and my crazy rambling stories under the cut.

Basically, I think I was about five when I started watching those roller coaster vomiting videos on YouTube. I was obsessed with them; I even had favorites that I had memorized the exact title of so I could go back and watch them whenever I wanted. Or, rather, whenever I had access to a device with internet. Even back then at five or six I knew that this would probably not go over well with my parents, so I would always use incognito mode or delete my history after watching the stuff. It got to the point where seven-eight year old me would steal my mom’s phone/tablet/computer to watch this stuff.

Back then I thought I did it because I found it funny. Like, you know, “ha ha that idiot just puked all over himself what a dummy” kind of stuff. Anytime I would play doctor with someone I would discreetly try to get them to pretend to puke. When I played with my stuffed animals or my toys I would pretend to make them puke then comfort them about it. (We’re gonna ignore the fact that I was ‘married’ to a stuffed animal until I was about 16. I had no friends, okay? My parents moved way too much and I was homeschooled. But yeah, it was usually just that one stuffed animal puking.)

As a side note, I’ve been boy crazy since literally preschool. I had a crush on this little boy named Antonio in my preschool class cuz he brought live lobsters for show-and-tell and I thought that was, like, the coolest thing ever. It was like if I didn��t have a crush on somebody, I felt like I was missing something, some driving force. I was so desperate to be loved and cared for unconditionally that it started to get really unhealthy and I was using online methods. All of a sudden I was being taken advantage of, guys video calling me to jerk off while I just messed around with myself. (I’m like sixteen at this point.) Eventually I recognized what was happening and literally destroyed the tablet I was using. (Smashed against the wall till it snapped in half.) But this whole paragraph was just a side note to the whole comfort part of my emetophilia and why it’s so important to me. Back to the emetic stuff now.

Anyway, at about twelve I started looking up more detailed queries on YouTube. Instead of “vomiting on roller coaster,” I was looking up “hot guys puking,” “cute teen boys throwing up,” “hot teen guys vomiting in toilet,” etc. It got to the point where I realized that this probably wasn’t normal, by a long shot, but I was twelve. I had no idea what a kink even was. It wasn’t till sixteen that it finally clicked in my head that I thought puking was hot. Only with specific people in specific ways, but yeah. It was crazy hot. For me, the puking has to be done by a male, and one that I find attractive, and it has to be natural. No shame for people who like purposeful vomiting and vomiting during sex and stuff, but I’m just into the natural, actually sick stuff.

At first I thought it was just me. I was terrified because I didn’t realize that emetophilia was a thing. I just kept thinking that I was some sort of freak for having a puke kink. Until, that is, one day I searched for hot guys puking on straight up Google instead of YouTube. I was so fucking happy to find all of this crazy shit all over the place. Ao3 and tumblr and stuff just opened a whole new world for me. I didn’t make this tumblr account until after I turned 18, but I was reading the sickfics way before that.

Anyway, still have yet to find my man, still have yet to fulfill my dream of comforting a weak little sickie boy of my own, but imma get there. I hope anyway…

How long have you known you're into Emeto (question for the whole community)?

Warning: pretty much a whole life story under the cut. NONE OF THIS IS CLASSED AS BEING SEXUALISED! everything that happened was out of interest up until last year and by "last year" I mean December, I was already 18 by that point, if youre turned on by the other stuff that's on you please DNI

Because I know I've known since I was really young, like when I was little my friends and I would play with dolls ad a character would always get sick because I found it fascinating. It started to become part of all the games we played and I got worried people would find out that I thought it was cool, it was like a guilty pleasure. Around age 12, my friend wanted to get out of a field trip and asked if I knew any ways to get sick, I'd never tried any but I applied logic and told them they should Chug water until it bounces (it worked, I witnessed it, probably the strangest thing I've ever seen). It was age 13 I started getting into prank channels and fake puke, I'd act like I was vomiting and I'd watch other people on the Internet because it was fun, then I noticed I was way too invested in it, like I'd get mad if it wasn't realistic enough. It was probably when I was 15 when I started looking up why I was so obsessed with vomiting because I could barely sleep thinking about how strange I was, that's when I found all these posts online about "emetophilia". I denied it being a kink for months before I just gave in. It was at 16 when I really started experimenting, gagging myself, etc. I found out my friend had a whump thing and so we both experimented with stuffing until that got weird. I know it's gonna sound weird that we were doing that sort of stuff so young but we didn't sexualise it. Last year I got into a relationship with someone with the same kink as me, we used to gag each other and one time it led to them getting sick all down themself (it was all liquid so I didn't freak out) and since then it's sort of just spiralled for me.

[emetoniche]

Hello please reblog this if you’re okay with people sending you random asks to get to know you better

[emetoniche]

Bahamas Chronicles: Part One I’d Rather The Car

Okay people, I finally did it! I finished my next fic. Not that it’s super long, I just take forever. I am super pleased to introduce my final two OCs of my little group, I hope you guys enjoy! (Also, this vacation is going to be a series, so more stories coming soon!)

TW: emeto, death, emotional trauma, suicide and divorce (very brief mention not relating to any of my characters)

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Darius looked up from his phone when he heard his name called across the airport.

“Darius! Hey man, over here!”

It took Darius a few seconds to find the source of the voice, but when he did, his face broke into a huge smile. Justin and the rest of the gang were threading their way through the throngs of people, said gang including Darius’s girlfriend Ariadne. Ari had the biggest grin on her face, her hair bouncing as she hurried towards him. When she reached him, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. It had been so long since they had been together, almost two months. Darius had been called home to Germany after his dad had gotten very sick, but after the funeral, he had headed straight home. Only to find out all his friends were going on vacation to the Bahamas. Darius had decided to go along with them: he needed to de-stress after everything that had happened recently.

Justin and the rest finally caught up with him and Ari, and there was a significant commotion as they all shuffled around into a group hug, then took turns hugging Darius individually. “Glad you’re back bud,” Eddie said, slapping Darius on the back. Darius grunted, but smiled. He didn’t realize how much he had missed all of his friends, or their little quirks. Callum’s perpetual aviators, Justin’s simping over Roan, Ari’s crazy outfits, Roan’s sarcasm, or even Eddie’s habit of slapping his friends way too hard on the back.

“I missed you guys so much,” he breathed, looking around at all of them.

Roan groaned, rolling her eyes. “Alright, alright, we’ve hugged and kissed it all out, enough with the sappy stuff already.” Darius couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. Yup, he was back home alright.

Adler, Darius’s pet fox, was staying with the zoology professor while Darius was on vacation, and the others had all found friends or family to watch their pets too.

Ari leaned into Darius, nuzzling into his neck. Darius buried his face in her dark hair for a moment, enjoying the smell of the coconut shampoo she used to keep her curls nice and tight. Too long, he thought, way too long since I’ve been able to do this.

Working their way through customs and security was difficult, as always, but Darius had never been so happy to do it. It meant he was back where he belonged: with his friends and his girlfriend. By the time the plane was being loaded, Darius had caught up on almost everything that had happened since he had been gone, from light gossip on who was dating who, to serious shit like the English professor’s divorce and subsequent suicide.

Boarding the plane went smoothly, Darius having pulled some strings to get all of them first-class seats. When his dad died, he had left Darius so much money he knew he would never be able to spend it all, so he had decided to splurge on the trip, treating all of his friends the way he knew his dad would have wanted. Darius and Ari had been seated together. Ari immediately set about hooking up a dual-headphone jack so they could watch one of their favorite horror films together. Around them, Eddie and Callum were fiddling with the snack compartments and Justin and Roan were pulling out the blankets they had been given.

The roar of the plane engine soon drowned out any noises from the back sections of the plane, leaving Darius alone with his girlfriend. They had just barely started the movie when the plane took off, the ground dropping away beneath them. Darius had chosen the seat furthest from the window because watching the ground so far below made him dizzy, but Ari was staring eagerly at the clouds as they flew by. “Ooh, Darius, look baby, that one looks like a dragon,” she squealed, pointing out the window.

Darius glanced out as for as long as he could without making his head spin. “Oh, yeah, cute,” he replied, returning to the movie. Before long, Ari followed suit, closing the window’s cover. The Cabin in the Woods occupied Darius for about forty-five minutes before he realized his stomach was starting to roil.

He nearly let out a miserable groan when he realized that in his excitement he had forgotten to take his Dramamine before the plane took off. It was definitely too late now, and besides, the Dramamine was in the overhead compartment in his carry-on bag. Standing up to get it would only make his head spin from the movement of the plane under his feet. He resolved to just focus hard on the film, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the growing nausea in the pit of his stomach.

Darius looked over at Ari to see if she had noticed his arm wrapped lightly over his stomach, but she had her eyes glued to the screen. Her lips were open in a look of surprise as a zombie lurched out of the ground towards one of the characters; her eyes were as big as dinner plates. A mix of thoughts swirled through Darius’s head as he watched her. On one hand, he just wanted to snuggle into her and whine like a little baby about his tummy. On the other hand, he didn’t want to make their first time back together in months miserable by being sick. His guilt won. He turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the sticky saliva building in his mouth.

It was so metallic tasting, like he was sucking on a metal lollipop or something. The stuff clung to the roof of his mouth, remaining even when he swiped his tongue around to get rid of it. By the time five minutes had gone by, Darius was beginning to give up on the hope that he could just keep his stomach in place with sheer will. It kept lurching into his throat every time the plane gave a slight bounce. A clammy sweat had broken over him, beads rolling down his forehead and into his eyes.

“Geez, these people are such idiots,” Ari groaned, laughing at the screen. She reached blindly out to put her hand on Darius’s leg. When she rested it on him, she could feel how tense the muscles were. She sat up a bit to look at him, confusion and concern written on her features. Darius tried so hard to look put together and okay, but the deep furrow in Ari’s brow let him know that he had failed miserably.

“Hey, everything okay baby,” she asked quietly, cupping his cheek in one hand. The word “yes” formed in Darius’s mind, but the word “no” came out of his lips. Apparently his subconscious was sick of him trying to be a big tough man and was ready to just give in to Ari’s care.

Ari hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry, are you feeling air sick?”

Darius nodded slowly. “I-it happens every time I fly,” he managed. “I forgot to take my medicine before we took off…” Ari lifted her hand to sweep his hair away from his face.

“You should have said something right away, I have some Dramamine in my backpack,” she admonished gently. “Seems like it’s too late now.”

Darius considered nodding again, but dismissed the thought as a wave of nausea crashed over him when the plane gave a little jolt. A wet, sickly burp forced its way out of his mouth followed by a weak groan. He reached out to pull the curtain across the opening of his seat into the isle so nobody else could see him. He was embarrassed enough to have forgotten his medicine and was now probably, no wait, definitely, going to puke in front of his girlfriend.

When another burp sent a watery stream up his throat, Darius lurched forward, scrambling furiously at the seat pocket in front of him while he did his best to swallow down the sick. Ari managed to find a bag before he did. She shoved it into his hands, putting her hand on the back of his head to help position his mouth above the bag’s opening.

Darius’s breaths were coming fast and shallow as his chest hitched in a gag. Nothing but a tinted stream of water trickled from between his lips, dripping into the bag. He could feel Ari’s hand on his back and hear her voice gently encouraging him, which admittedly made him feel a bit better. At least she wasn’t completely disgusted by him right now.

This thought quickly vanished as a painful retch tore through him. A much heavier gush of puke flew up this throat, filling the bag about a quarter of the way. Darius barely had time to breathe before another horrid sounding retch slammed his stomach inward. This next flow lasted so long he had a single panicked moment where he was terrified he couldn’t stop. When he finally did, his chest heaved with huge breaths, trying to suck in as much air as he possibly could.

He had a few seconds respite this time before he heaved again, to his horror nearly filling the bag to the top. He could tell there was more to come, but there wasn’t room for it. His eyes wide, he whimpered at Ari, hoping she would understand. She apparently had already noticed the precariously filled sick-bag, because as soon as he stopped vomiting, she had another bag held under his chin, holding it herself this time.

Darius’s hand gripped her thigh, the other holding equally tightly to the already full airsickness bag. His breathing had started to quicken, practically hyperventilating as he fought to get in air between gags. His head was spinning and throbbing at the same time; his temples seemed to be pulsating to the beat of his heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could tell that he was getting himself worked up way too much, but when his vision started to swim with black spots he gave up on listening to that little voice.

His gags became a combination of choking gasps and grating retches until he felt Ari’s hand go to his chest, forcing him to sit upright. He was no longer actually vomiting: there was nothing left inside of him to get out. Instead, he was dry-heaving, his panic escalating the nausea he already had until he was simply unable to stop his stomach from rebelling over and over and over.

“Hey!” Darius heard a soothing voice calling to him through the black void that had filled his vision. “Darius, baby, you have to calm down, you’re making things worse.” Ari’s hands were cupping his cheeks, thumbs swirling circles on the soft skin in a comforting rhythm.

His stomach gave another lurch, the smallest trickle of bile falling from his lips. Because Ari had removed the sick bag to comfort him, the bile fell onto his lap, soaking into his black jeans. A chill ran down Darius’s spine at the disgusting sensation, but he was gaining enough control of himself to keep a gag back. Ari’s touch was grounding him, bringing him back around to the point where he could actually see clearly again. The black faded from his vision and his breathing slowed to a steady pace.

“You feeling better now,” Ari asked softly, leaning in to kiss his brow.

“Um, yeah, I think so…” Darius replied shakily, gulping hard. His stomach still felt pretty off, but he didn’t think he was in danger of puking all over the place anymore. “Can I get some of that Dramamine now?”

Ari smiled at him. “Of course baby, let me get it out of my bag, kay?” Darius instantly missed the warmth of her hands when she bent to fish the meds out of her bag, but it was worth it five minutes later when the stuff started to truly settle his stomach. And a good thing it did too, because the flight was another six or seven hours before they could land. With a sigh, Darius curled into Ari after lifting the arm rest separating them. His head on her lap, he closed his eyes, relishing the relief that fading into sleep brought him, the last sensation Ari’s hand rubbing slowly over his back.

[emetoniche]

Guys, I am so sorry that it’s taking so long to get this next story out, I struggle a lot with motivation, not just for writing but for pretty much anything. I am so close to being done with it, and I’ve decided to make a series out of it, so hopefully there will be some more stories coming out soon after this one if I can get myself into a writing mood. I will be using the prompts from the poll I did a while ago in order to write this series. Hope you guys enjoy!!

[emetoniche]

I can’t tell you how much money I would pay to be there just rubbing his back and peppering kisses over his hair. Holy. Fuck. I’m practically crying rn how badly I want a guy like this 😭😍🤤

😍

[emetoniche]

XD, yes, this is exactly how I feel. When I was younger I would only watch vids on incognito mode so my parents wouldn’t be able to see what I was doing lol

ohhhhh i'm going to have to clear a lot of browser history after this aren't i?

I’ve given up at this point and has accepted the fact that some government agency is judging me and my search history 24/7

Honestly, if theres a psychologist studying emetophilliacs out there my tumblr can be one of their references lmao hmu with an interview and I we can together explore the wonders of vomiting

[emetoniche]

Yo, what all these guys said. If ur a pedo you can fuck off: please go get malaria or something.

If you call pedophilia a kink please unfollow me and never talk to me again