Turn ons

Title: A Helping Hand Pairing: Demi/Rayne (Original Characters, f/f) Summary: Rayne has a habit of not noticing how much she eats if she’s otherwise focused on something else. After eating far more Chinese food than she planned, she ends up with an upset stomach only Demi can help her with. 

Written for the wonderful @lickstynine! 

Disclaimer: Graphic depictions of vomiting ahead. —– “That…was so…fucking good…” Rayne half-groaned, sitting back on the couch. Chinese food containers littered the coffee table, all without a single drop of food left within them. Bringing her short legs up, she winced a little and then slid them back down with a huff.  

“Eat too much?” Demi asked, her hand warm against the shorter woman’s thick thigh. Rayne smiled softly, scooting closer to her with a little difficulty.  

“Probably, you know how I get.” She lay her head against the taller girl, grateful when she wrapped a long slender arm around her to receive her. “If I’m doing anything other than just eating, I don’t register how much I’m eating.” 

“It’s cute,” Demi smirked, laying her hand over Rayne’s normally soft tummy, feeling it unusually taut beneath the hem of her Panic! at the Disco t-shirt. Her stomach twitched beneath her touch and forced out a rather loud belch, her darker skin tinting red with blush as she covered her mouth.  

“Sorry, my lord…” she whispered mortified.  

Demi chuckled softly, lightly removing her hand. “Feel better?” 

“Not really,” she whispered, the belch having just made her stomach feel a bit queasy, almost fluttery. “You can put your hand back. It’s…comforting.”  

Lightly, she returned her hand to her stomach, lightly petting it with her thumb. “You’ve always liked having my hand on your stomach.” 

Rayne closed her eyes once more, relaxing into Demi once more. “As silly as it sounds…it makes me feel validated. You’re not grossed out by it.”

“Well, no, why would I be? It’s a tummy. And a cute one at that,” she smiled, kissing the corner of her lips.  Rayne blushed deeply for that, hiding her face against her.  

“I’ve dated a lot of people, mostly guys, but some girls too…who for the first month or two said my tummy was cute to them too. And then, suddenly, it’s ‘how can you stand eating half a chocolate cake in one sitting?’ and ‘I’m starting a diet, I think it’d be a great idea if you joined me.’” Rayne admitted softly. 

Demi released a short, warm sigh, frowning a little. “It honestly pisses me off to know you went through that. Like, what the fuck does it matter to them? You’re happy, you’re healthy, and it cost an additional free ninety-nine for them to have minded their own fucking business.”  

Lightly, Rayne reached up to touch her cheek. “You’re not them.” 

“Damn straight I’m not.” She said, her fierce protective temper doused easily with that gentle touch. “I just hate that so many could have left such a senseless mark on you.”

Rayne’s stomach gurgled beneath Demi’s fingers, leaving the smaller girl to squirm a little. “Did that hurt?”  

“A little.” Rayne admitted, her face reddening up again.  

“Love, burp if you think it’ll help.” Demi urged. Rayne made a face. “Really. I won’t tell a soul that the great Rayne has normal human bodily functions.” 

That got her to laugh a little, another burp forcing its way out anyway, leaving her to grimace a little miserable. “Ugh.” She belched again, urged by an insistent, much stronger pain in her stomach. “Oh god…” 

“Stomach’s really hurting you, huh?” 

“…a…little…” Rayne admitted, entirely embarrassed by it.  

Demi kissed the top of her red-violet curls, and gently rubbed her stomach. “I’m sure it’ll settle. Just relax, I’ve got you.” 

Rayne trusted the word of her lover and settled on half-watching the television with her instead. Demi had turned it over to one of those scientific ‘how it’s made’ documentaries that she loved, leaving Rayne to zone out to it. 

The reprieve to her tummy lasted only a few minutes before the pain came back with a vengeance, prompting a burp that felt larger than she was, and left her feeling a little nauseated on the tail in. Her cheeks burned feeling Demi’s worried gaze. “Sorry…” 

“Don’t be. Are you not feeling any better?” She asked.  

Rayne shook her head, biting her lip as she sat up a little more and shifted, forcing herself this time to burp more. It didn’t relieve the pressure at all this time and felt as if her throat was coated too thickly for the air to travel up easily. “Is it warm in here?” 

“Let me check the thermostat.”  

Slipping off the couch, Demi headed into the hall while Rayne moved to sit on the edge of the cushions more. Without her in the room, she felt a bit more comfortable trying to get the trapped gas out, the next couple belches sounding ominously wet, and only serving to cause the nausea to intensify. “Oh God…” 

“…it was on 72, I turned it down more for you though.” Demi said, automatically testing her forehead for warmth once she could reach Rayne. “You don’t feel warm, though.” 

“I’ll be okay. Please don’t worry. I don’t mean to interrupt your show.” She said honestly. “It’ll settle, really.” The last part, she felt she was saying more for her own benefit, especially as she swallowed thickly. The inside of her mouth felt far too humid and moist for her liking. Her stomach gurgled audibly, a painful high-pitched whine that almost sound as if her stomach was crying for how terrible it felt.  

“I think we have some Emetrol in the cabinet,” Demi offered, rubbing Rayne’s back. She shook her head gently.  

“I haven’t thrown up since I was a kid. Sometimes, I just have to ride it out.”  

Demi trusted her girlfriend to know her own body well enough and left it at that. Instead, she rubbed her back while she returned to her show, knowing Rayne would relax only so long as she didn’t think Demi was sacrificing things for her. Rayne lifted her shirt up a little to expose her bloated belly and rubbed it gently herself while she continued to try to stifle sick burps behind her hand.  

Suddenly her belly jerked with a painful hiccup that forced enough pressure up her throat that she pitched forward a moment. When nothing came up, she took that as a good warning to go ahead and head into the bathroom, one hand on her tummy, the other clamped over her mouth.

The pain in her stomach was starting to intensify, her mouth watering as she dropped to her knees against the cold bathroom tile and leaned over the porcelain bowl. Letting her mouth hang open, thick drool spilled out freely until she gave an experimental spit thinking it would trigger her to gag. No such luck, however, as the stringy saliva simply floated in the water tauntingly, churning her stomach more, and flooding her mouth anew. 

She whimpered from the pain in her stomach, staring into the bowl as if it would inspire her to vomit, just trying to envision the Chinese food from earlier coming up, the smell of it. Nothing more than another painful hiccup escaped her, causing her eyes to water, her throat burning from acid that refused to be expelled. 

“Rayne, love, are you alright in there?” Demi called from outside the door. 

“I…I’ll be okay. I just…it hurts so bad. I can’t will myself to throw up, though,” she whined, the desperation in her voice causing her to flush from self consciousness.  

“I’m coming in, babe. Alright?” When Rayne offered no protest, Demi slid into the medium sized bathroom, the dark blue of the wallpaper complementing her ice blue hair. “Oh, you really feel terrible, don’t you?” 

Rayne nodded, belching wetly and getting the weakest little gag for it. She shifted, trying to strain a little as if she could try to belch again when she didn’t need to and get it up, but only managed to make herself breathless.

“Maybe I can help?” Demi offered.  

Rayne weakly raised a brow, trembling a little from the extreme nausea. “I don’t think you can but thank you for offering. I’ve gotten stomach bugs and hang overs that I couldn’t cure with my own fingers…” 

Demi moved to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. “My fingers are a little longer. Let me try? If it doesn’t work or makes it worse, we’ll stop. I promise.” 

Rayne looked a little mortified, realizing she was serious. 

 “What if I throw up on your hand?” She asked worried. 

Demi shrugged, leaving her hands wet as she came to settle behind her. “I mean…I’m sticking them down your throat. I’d honestly be surprised if they didn’t get a little vomit on them. Really, you’re not going to gross me out.”  

“If…if you’re sure.” She relented. Demi pulled her hair tie out and pulled Rayne’s red-violet curls back from her face for her, before encouraging her up more, sliding an arm around her stomach. 

“I’m sure. Ready?” She asked, bringing two fingers to her lips. Rayne’s heart hammered in her chest.  

“S-sure…g-go ahead.” 

 Parting lips stained deep red with lip gloss, Demi slipped her pale, slender fingers past them. Just the weight of them on her tongue was enough to get Rayne to gag fully, though unproductive. Still, she pulled her fingers free, just in case.  

“Can you rub my back…while you do this?” 

Demi smiled, and slipped her hand beneath the hem of her shirt in the back, letting Rayne brace herself against the toilet with her own hands. “Like this?” 

“Yeah. Okay…I’m ready….” She offered, pressing her sore stomach against the bowl as Demi slid her fingers back within. This time she got them to the back of her tongue before she gagged, a belch coming free. Encouraged, Demi wiggled them further back there, pressing her body against Rayne’s to help the pressure of her stomach against the bowl.  This time, she let out a loud gurgling wretch as a thick spray of puke ejected suddenly spraying against the back of the toilet from the force, only some of it managing to make it into the bowl. 

“Oh…Oh god.” Rayne trembled, gagging again weakly with a disgusting sounding burp, spitting acidic, ropey drool into the bowl. “I-I’m sorry.” 

Demi cleaned her hand off with a bit of toilet paper. “Don’t be. Did that help?” 

“A little. I don’t think I’m done though,” she whispered.  

Demi didn’t even hesitate, throwing the bit of vomit-covered toilet paper into the bowl and slipping her hand back up to begin gagging her again. Rayne’s throat clenched hot and wet around her fingers, mostly wet belches and close calls before another forceful wave of half-digested Chinese food came up, spraying through nose and mouth into the bowl. She spit, catching a breath before belching, and needing a smaller prod of Demi’s fingers before she puked again. Her face was red as could be with all the disgusting wet burps and seeing her vomit dripping from Demi’s fingers.  

“I’m going to have to marry this woman if this doesn’t scare her away.”

Demi was entirely patient with it, taking her time rubbing her back while she helped her girlfriend empty herself until all that was left was the occasional hiccup or quiet burp. “There you go, love,” she comforted, kissing Rayne’s temple as she pulled her back into her lap to relax against her. She could feel her drenched in sweat, trembling entirely from the exertion.  

“So much better.” Rayne sighed, no strength left in her to even fight the gesture, not that she wanted to. “Give me a minute…I’ll clean it up. I feel so much better now.” 

“Shh, I’ll clean it up. Just relax for a bit. Once you come down, I’ll run us both a warm bath and we can curl up for the night.” 

Title: Discovering New Appetites Characters: Rayne/Demi Summary: The girls spend the day in bed, nothing but lingerie, junk food, and a little idle curiosity about their sexual appetites.  DISCLAIMER: THIS FIC INCLUDES STUFFING, VOMITING, AND IMPLIED INTERCOURSE! 

—–

“Okay, thin mints, ice cream, and cupcakes acquired. Anything else?” Demi asked, setting the tray of things on the bed between she and Rayne.

The shorter woman paused a moment before sheepishly replying, “Milk? A big glass? Need something to cut the sweet.”

Demi nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll be right back.”

It was raining relentlessly outside, the constant downpour hitting the window in a relaxing rhythm. With the weather so dismal, and the two of them having the day off, they girls had decided to stay in bed and eat junk food while they watched television. As Demi’s schedule had picked up lately, they hadn’t had a lot of time together as of late, and Rayne was more than ready for some snuggles and snacks.

She grabbed a sleeve of the thin mint cookies as well as the remote, and channel surfed for a while. There really wasn’t much on this early in the morning, and eventually she just settled on an Impractical Jokers rerun marathon. She knew Demi really liked watching the guys make fools of their selves, and Rayne couldn’t deny that she had grown fond of their antics herself.

Demi returned in no time with two large glasses of milk for them to share and climbed back into bed with her. “Bras, panties, and junk food. There should be a holiday for this kind of shit.”

Rayne chuckled, laying back against the pillows as she popped the cookie into her mouth with a soft groan for the taste. “I concur.”

The morning would creep by as the two of them cuddled against one another, sharing the carton of chocolate ice cream until it started melting more. Rayne commandeered it then, sitting it between her legs with a quiet squeak for the shock of cold, and began eating it in earnest.

Demi found herself stealing glances occasionally, distracted from her snacking just to kind of watch Rayne eat. There was the quietest bit of pride to see the way she could eat impressive amounts at once, and more than once Rayne would catch her and eat that much more just amused at the way Demi blushed.

“Do you…like me being all disgusting and stuffing my face like I’m not already fat enough?” Rayne asked, her hand finding her belly that had started to bloat. Demi leaned forward to kiss her stomach. “There’s nothing at all disgusting about you eating. It’s taken years for you to get comfortable enough to eat like this around me. It’s kind of a complement…to know we’re in this place. Plus…your tummy is cute.”

Rayne smiled bashfully. “You just love everything about me, don’t you?”

“That’s fair to assume.” Demi moved to lay her head on Rayne’s thigh, staring up at her with a love-sick expression in her eyes. “I hope that you’ll soon come to realize that’s not such a bad thing. That you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

Rayne blinked away happy tears, grabbing another sleeve of thin mints to chew on instead. Demi let the silence hang comfortably between them, turning her attention back to the television. She closed her eyes to feel Rayne’s fingers begin to slide through her hair and dozed off.

Demi wouldn’t wake for another hour when she felt Rayne shifting beneath her. Making a quiet contented noise, she rolled over to gaze up at her, just to find Rayne’s stomach looking painfully bloated, hanging over the lace waistband of her panties. Her lover grunted a little, rubbing it and belching softly. “Fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“Hey, don’t be. Not feeling well?”

Rayne nodded toward the tray, the ice cream, two boxes of cookies, and two glasses of milk all entirely gone. “Ate too much.”

“Aww, babe…” She sat up fully, pushing the tray out of the way to gather Rayne against her. “Want me to rub it?”

“Please? It hurts…”

Demi touch was soothing as she took over gently rubbing her sore stomach, it hard beneath her touch. Rayne groaned softly, the weight of her hand forcing up a belch. “Sorry.”

“It’s entirely fine. I want you to feel better.” Demi looked away, trying to mask the heat that had risen to her cheeks, and unexpectedly, between her thighs.

“You’re disgusted.” Rayne sat up, starting to move out from beneath her lover’s touch. Demi reached for her gently.

“I’m not.”

“You won’t look at me.”

“It’s not that.” Demi shifted some, unsure of how to say it.

“What is it love? Was it something I did?”

Demi was silent a moment before she rubbed the back of her neck embarrassed. “I don’t know how to say this. I’m more afraid of weirding you out.”

Rayne canted her head a little, her hand on her stomach as it gurgled uncomfortably. “I don’t understand. Love. You stuck your fingers down my throat, I don’t think you could ever gross me out.”

The heat flushed through Demi again, and she covered her face. “God, what is wrong with me?” She took a deep breath. “It….I guess…What I’m trying to say is…”

She felt Rayne’s fingers brush against her hand.

“Rayne, I think I’m turned on by you eating like this? Um…I like comforting you when you get tummy aches, but the idea that you might…throw up or even better…need my help to throw up again…” She swallowed dryly. “It’s got me wet.”

Rayne blushed several shades of red against her tan skin, unsure she had heard her right. “This is turning you on?”

“I know…gross right?”

“Not at all, Demi. You have a kink. It’s not the end of the world. I like feeling full like this, and um…” She smirked. “I’m not going to lie. You holding me and making me throw up was kind of hot. I think I like the rush of the release, especially since I don’t normally throw up.” Rayne gently squeezed her hand. “Maybe…we can push it? See if you can get me to throw up for you?”

Demi squirmed a little, shifting how she sat. “What do you have in mind?”

“Milk.” Rayne said as she slowly pushed herself from the bed. “I’ll drink until I can’t anymore. Maybe…something will come of it.”

“If you want to rinse one of the glasses in the restroom, I’ll meet you in there with the milk,” Demi offered, standing after her.

Rayne’s heart was racing some as her already upset stomach sloshed from the movement of heading into the restroom. Rinsing the glass out in the sink, she looked at the toilet and then the shower, swallowing thickly.

“Here love.” Demi brought the carton in and kissed her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Nauseated even thinking about it.” She smiled in spite of the way she felt, knowing that Demi’s eyes were on her spurring her on. “Do you…want me to take my clothes off and try puking in the shower? Less clean up this time.”

Demi thought about it a moment before setting the carton on the counter. “Sure, let me join you in there.” Rayne slipped out of her bra and panties, turning to get the hot spray of the shower going, while Demi disrobed and filled the glass with milk. “So…are you just going to drink this out here til you feel ready to like…get in?”

Rayne shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounds like a good idea anyway.” She blushed. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried to make myself throw up for pleasure.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Demi brushed her cheek. “We can just shower and go lay down again.”

“I want to if you want to…”

“I do…”

“Then it’s settled.” Rayne took the glass and pressed it to her lips, beginning to chug it down.

Her throat tried to resist it already by the last couple of gulps. It threatened to convulse and push it back out, but she forced it down and coughed, handing the glass to Demi while she held her stomach. It gurgled loudly, rebelling against the ice-cold liquid. “Another glass.”

Demi obeyed, filling it quickly and handing it to Rayne, watching her down it like a pro. She grimaced on the end of it though and shook her head. “Mm, oh God. That almost came up on its own.”

“Fuck…” Demi murmured warmly, then blushed as she realized the thought was external rather than in her head where she meant it.

Rayne smiled, brushing her cheek. “Go ahead and climb in the shower. I’m going to drink a little more and then you can help me puke.”

It wasn’t often that Rayne took the reins, but it was another level of arousing for Demi when she did. Without questioning, Demi climbed beneath the hot shower, hissing as the water stung her cool skin. “You and your hot ass showers.”

Rayne poured a half a glass, smirking. “You love them, I know.” This time she moved closer to the tub, unsure if she was going to actually be able to finish it. Her stomach sloshed audibly with every step, beginning to churn painfully. “Ugh, I think I’m going to puke before I get this down.”

“You don’t have to drink it…”

It felt like a dare though. A secret dare to herself, a rush to wonder if she’s going to be able to hold it. She pinched her nose and chugged it, giving a harsh, loud retch at the end of it, pale opaque saliva dripping down the side of the tub. “Oh god…”

Demi felt herself clench in pleasure, heat exploding between her legs. “Are you alright?”

“G…give me…” She gagged again, a wet belch leaving her lips. “A moment.” Her fingers gripped the tub tightly, her body beginning to shake. Instead, Demi moved to gather Rayne’s hair back, just in case. After a few moments, the false alarm passed, and Rayne weakly climbed into the tub.

It was muggy, the steam from the hot water almost suffocating, escalating her painful nausea. Sucking in a quick bit of air, she forced herself to blech, trying to fight off the discomfort. Demi brushed her cheek, a finger beneath her chin to prompt her to look up at her. “I hate seeing you suffer. Maybe this kink isn’t worth it.”

Rayne opened her mouth to protest, but instead her stomach twisted without warning, and she pitched forward. A gurgling wretch left her lips as still-cold milk rocketed from her lips and over Demi’s bare chest. Before Rayne could even think enough to be embarrassed, her breath hitched, and she vomited another unrelenting milky wave. She was red from the strain, the strangled noises she made sounding incredibly painful.

“Oh, love! Are you okay?” Demi asked after she recovered from the shock. As much as she thought being vomited on would disgust her, it had done the exact opposite. She had to chide herself as she pushed Rayne’s hair back, watching as she held her stomach in misery as she coughed and choked up a thicker wave of puke. “Get it all up, love. I’ve got you.”

“Sor—eeeeuuuhhhhhh!!!!!!” She gagged loudly mid apology, thick ice cream and cookie vomit splattering the shower floor around their feet. Her eyes watered, her vision blurring some from it and the desperate need she had for oxygen as her puking refused to relent.

Demi just held her against her to help her stand, keeping her hair back while she held her up with a hand around her tummy with the other. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling so poorly.”

“Hrrrrrkkkk!” Was the only reply she got, as another wave slid down Demi’s leg as she expelled it, and then another smaller wave, continuing until she coughed up a burning throatful of bile.

“There you go. Empty?” Demi asked, the shower washing the ick away.

“Can I touch you?” Rayne’s voice was hoarse, but as she looked up at her lover, there was desire in her eyes.

“I’m more worried about you. That was so much, love. You seemed to be in so much pain and—” Rayne’s fingers parted her arousal, slicking with her juices, causing her to groan.

“You took care of me…let me take care of you…”

she's tired and kinda shaky when she's done. maybe her gf or someone else close to her has followed her and like. neither says anything at first? there's silent aknowledgement of the situation (maybe this other person has noticed something's off but hasn't said anything), maybe the sick person kinda leans their head against the other person's shoulder.

A/N: Fair warning for my fellow emetophiles - there are mentions of vomit in this fic, along with actual bloating/burping/stomachache, but no one actually pukes.  Just a heads up to prevent disappointment.  This is Part One, so I’m setting the scene and allowing room for gradual build-up in parts 2 + 3…  Enjoy :)

Characters: Maggie and Mira

*Contains sexual content (this series is going to be very NSFW)*

Mira and Maggie were cuddling in bed, Maggie kissing a bruise she’d left on Mira’s arm.  Suddenly, Mira laughed quietly.

“Tell me?” Maggie asked, pressing her lips to Mira’s wrist. 

“Mmm, I was just thinking – never mind.”   

“Tell me,” Maggie repeated, voice firm this time.  Mira groaned softly at her dominant tone. 

“I was just thinking about couples who don’t have sex very often, and then I thought about us – and I laughed, because you wouldn’t be able to go two weeks without orgasm.”

“Is that a dare?” Maggie asked.  

Mira turned to look at her. “Do you want it to be?”

“Without sex or without orgasm?”

“Well… orgasm.” 

“So I could get you off.”

Mira blushed.  “Uh, yeah, I suppose so.”

Maggie shot Mira a sly smile.  “I don’t like to be told I can’t do things.  Deal.”

“Wow, okay.  So it’s a bet.  You can’t go two weeks without touching yourself or begging me to fuck you.”

Something sparkled in Maggie’s eyes.  “I never beg.”  She paused. “What do I get when I win?”

Mira laughed, then turned serious.  “I’ll be completely obedient to you for twenty-four hours.  Even in public.”  Maggie growled under her breath, nipping at Mira’s earlobe.   “But if I win – which I intend to – I get to make you do something, anything of my choosing.”

“Does that include murder?”

Mira laughed. “Nothing illegal.”

“That’s pretty broad, my darling.”

“Well it shouldn’t be a problem, since you never beg.”  Mira turned her head and kissed Maggie, slipping her tongue in her mouth and sliding a hand between her legs.  

Maggie groaned.  “You’re on.”

The next day, Mira had a hard time focusing on her students.  All she could think about was how she was going to tempt Maggie into sex later that evening.  And her brain kept pulling her back to the ‘easy’ strategy – playing to Maggie’s kinks.

She had plenty to work with – Maggie was turned on by bloating/stuffing, stomach aches, nausea, vomiting, and submission.  

Sitting at her desk after lunch, Mira smiled to herself.  She knew what she was going to do.

A/N: Hey, anon!  I’m assuming this is a request for a continuation of the last ask-based fic, about Gina and Cassie?  Hopefully yes, since that’s what I wrote ;)  Enjoy…

*Light vomit warning*

[Continued from previous ask]

Cassie stumbled backward, shocked.  Her nose crinkled with disgust as the hot vomitseeped through the material of her dress, some of it dripping onto the floor. 

Gina went cold with terror.  She coughed, wiping her lips with the back of her shaky hand.  “Oh my God,” she said, voice trembling withpanic. “I am so sorry, Cassie.  I…”  Gina trailed off.  I’mfired.  I’m so fired.

Swallowing anger, Cassie turned and grabbed a handful ofpaper towels.  Gina stumbled to the sink,spitting out bile as she braced herself on the counter.  Ohshit, oh shit, oh shit.  Cassie wassilent, wiping puke off her dress.  Ginarinsed her mouth.

Finally Cassie took a deep breath, forcing herself to calmdown.  “Are you feelingany better?” Her voice was…quiet.  Not tender– but not as hard as Gina expected. 

Slowly, Gina raised her head to look at her boss.  Surprised by the concern on Cassie’s face,Gina nodded.  “Yeah, a little.”

“Okay, well – I think you should go home.”  Gina nodded weakly.  “I’ll call a custodian.”  Cassie turned toward the door, opening it andpractically stepping out before realizing that Gina hadn’t moved.  “Gina…?”  Cassie stepped back, letting the door closeagain.

Gina was crying.  “I’msorry, I just…I feel…I just need a minute.” She wiped tears from her cheeks, trying not to have a completemeltdown.  Fuck, pull it together.

Cassie looked at her, suddenly a little emotional herself.  She shifted her weight, not sure what to say. “You can lay down in my office for a fewminutes, if you want.”

Gina couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  IsCassie being nice to me? After I puked all over her dress?  Confused but grateful, Gina nodded.

“Okay.  I really needto change out of this dress.  Do youthink you can walk?” Cassie asked.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  I’m – I’m so sorry.”  Gina moved toward the door,stepping gingerly around the pools of vomit on the floor.  Cassie said nothing, leading the way toward theback hallway.

Twenty minutes later, Cassie (now in pants and a blouse) pausedher work to watch as Gina put on her coat.  Mary-Ellen,a new hire, waited near the door. She’d offered to drive Gina home.

Gina looked pale, weak. Cassie chewed her lip, thinking.  Shewasn’t supposed to care this much… 

“I really am sorry,” Gina said, looking sheepishly at Cassie.  “It won’thappen again, I swear.”

A long beat passed before Cassie responded.  “Feel better,” she said finally, ducking herhead back toward her paperwork as the two women left the office. 

Gina couldn’t sleep.  Severalhours of fitful rest and (uneventful) bathroom visits had passed, but she wasn’tfeeling better.  Honestly?  She felt awful.  

Slivers of sunlight peeked around the drawn curtains, castinga glow across her studio apartment.  Shecould hear traffic outside.  

Groggy, Gina squinted at her bedside table.  An empty glass sat near the edge, temptingher.  She was thirsty, but the thought ofdrinking more water made her stomach gurgle painfully beneath her hoodie.  

She wiped sweat from her sticky forehead, feeling too hotand too cold simultaneously.  Maybe Ishould shower.  Yeah, that might help.

She hauled herself out of bed, trying to ignore how much theroom spun as she moved.  She paddedslowly toward the bathroom, but had to stop halfway to lean against the wall.  Sodizzy… 

Just then, the buzzer rang.  Gina jumped.

Who the hell…?   She had no idea who would be buzzing rightnow, but the intercom was broken and there was no way she was leaving herapartment.  She hit the ‘open door’button, letting the mystery guest into the building.

Her mouth was dry.  She wanted water again, but didn’t feel like moving to get it.  So she just stayed where she was, waiting.

The mystery guest was the last person she expected to see.

Gina opened the door to find Cassie standing in the hallway,holding a plastic grocery bag.  Cassiehalf-smiled, looking a little tentative.

“What are you doing here?” Gina asked, trying not to slurher words as she leaned on the doorframe. Shit, I’m so tired…

“Uh, yeah, this is, uh – I didn’t expect to… I was justworried.  You said you lived alone and Ididn’t know if you needed… well, I brought you a hot water bottle.  And some tea and crackers.”  Cassie glanced at Gina, who looked like shewas about to pass out.  “I’m sorry todisturb you.”

“No, no it’s okay,” Gina said, swallowing thickly.  Her throat felt weird, and her stomach was churning.  No, Iwill not throw up in front of her again.  No way.  “Thank you so much.”  She held out her hand for the bag, realizingit was rude not to invite Cassie inside – but she was too sick to care.

“Are you feeling better?” Cassie asked, not ready tohand over the bag.

Gina’s knees suddenly felt weak.  Nausea swept over her body, her cheeks flushingwith heat.  She jerked away from thedoorframe, disappearing back into the apartment.  Cassie stood in the hallway, unsure if she should follow.  

When she heard Gina vomit, she stepped into the studio andquietly nudged the door shut.  Her eyesscanned the space, finally landing on the bathroom – the door was open, and she could see Gina bent over thesink, drinking from the faucet.  

As Gina moved to grab a tissue, she spotted Cassie and froze.  “You should probably leave,” Gina said, voice sounding rough.   

“I don’t think I should, actually,” Cassie responded.  The words were out of her mouth before sherealized what she was saying.

Gina stared at her, unable to formulate words.  Why? wasthe only thing running through her mind.  Why is she here?  Why does she care?  Finally, she had no choice but to move toward Cassie, desperateto get back to her bed.  

Cassie stopped her, gently brushing sweaty hair out of Gina’sface.  Gina groaned involuntarily, surprisinglytouched by the compassion in the gesture.  “You shouldn’t be alonewhen you’re sick,” Cassie said softly.

“Don’t you have to… go home to your family?” Ginaasked quietly, her body aching. 

“You mean my abusive husband?  No, I think I can skip that for one night.”  

Gina looked up sharply, surprised by this information.  Cassie averted her eyes, clearing her throat asshe moved toward the coffee table to set her bags down.   Ginawanted to say something to acknowledge Cassie, to be empathetic – instead, shenearly collapsed with weakness.  She leanedon the wall, trying not to pass out.  

“I don’t feel good…” Gina said, vision starting to tunnel.  

“Here,” Cassie said.  SuddenlyGina felt Cassie’s arms around her, felt her feet leaving the ground – Cassie wascarrying her.  She’s strong…

Through the haze of illness, in some remote corner of herbrain, Gina realized she felt a little… turned on.

Which was impossible. Cassie was the ice queen.  Theboss from hell.  The crazy bitch everyonehated… 

But.  That was a façade,a persona, a stereotype.  

The woman who was gently tucking Gina into bed was just…awoman.  Who cared enough about one of heremployees to come to her apartment and take care of her.

Gina wasn’t sure if that was creepy, or the nicest thinganyone had ever done for her.

Thank you for the great prompt, anon!

*Decided to do this as a POV fic, featuring the reader as the fan*

Character: Evelyn

People-watching – great. People-watching in expensive hotel lobbies – fantastic.

Today it’s the Ritz. You didn’t plan on staying so late, but you’re not normally here onFridays and damn, the evening activity has been fascinating.  You’re scribbling notes on a sketchpad whena gorgeous woman catches your eye.

You pause your scribbling to watch her. That looks like – that’s Evelyn Park! Holy shit.  You swallow, tryingnot to let your mind wander to the embarrassing number of fanfics you’ve readfeaturing her or her characters.  

Your eyes narrow as you notice that she’s walking strangely– too slowly, almost weaving.  One of herhands is pressed to her coat, over her abdomen.  Is she okay?  You look around, checking to see if she’swith anyone.  Nope.  No sign of friends, assistants, security,etc.  

Evelyn spots a small couch at the edge of the lounge andhalf-collapses onto it.  Now certain thatsomething is wrong, you stand, a little hesitant.  This is weird.  If I goover, what do I say? Is she going tothink I’m a crazy stalker? 

You can’t see her face from this angle.  I justhave to see if she’s okay.  And… pretendI’m not a massive fan who is concerned about a complete stranger.  Right, yeah. You take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts.  Okay,breathe.  This is normal.

You pick up your things and stuff them into your bag, thenwalk toward the couch.  As you approach,you notice that Evelyn is extremely pale, her hands trembling a little as shedigs through her handbag.  

Before you reach her, you stop.  There’snothing I can say that isn’t going to sound creepy.

But then… she moves. She stands carefully, swallowing hard as she heads toward theelevators.  You can’t help yourself – youfollow.

Evelyn presses the ‘up’ button.  You hang back a little, then follow her as anelevator opens.  She looks at you as youenter, smiling weakly as she chooses her floor. You smile back.  Sure, I’m staying on the eighth floor too.Why not? You look down at your shoes. The elevator moves, and there’s a loud silence.  Saysomething, I should say something…

Suddenly the elevator stalls.  

Everything lurches to a stop and the lights go out, plungingthe small space into darkness.

“Shit,” Evelyn says, and you hear panic in her voice.  Maybeshe’s claustrophobic?

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to stay calm.  “I’ve been stuck in elevators before.”   You take out your phone, using theflashlight to illuminate the elevator’s control panel.  You try the ‘open door’ button.  Nothing. You press the ‘emergency call’ button, and hear a dialing tone.  No one picks up.  “Um, okay…” You open your phone, start googling the hotel’s number.

“Are you calling 911?” Evelyn asks.  Her voice sounds shaky.  You glance at her, your heart racing as youremember how close she’s standing.  Youwant to hug her, tell her it’s going to be okay.  

“I want to call the front desk first,” you say, refocusingon your phone.  You find the number,dial.  “Yes hi, there are two of us stuckin one of the elevators.  I’m notsure…no.  It was the middle one on theleft side.  Um, I think we just passedthe fifth floor?  Yeah.  Yeah, okay. Thank you.  Thanks.”  You hang up. “They’re going to call someone for us,” you say, keeping your phone outfor the light.  

“Okay,” Evelyn responds, closing her eyes and leaningagainst the wall.  Her hand is on herstomach again.

“If you’re claustrophobic, it helps if you focus on yourbreathing,” you suggest quietly.

Evelyn shakes her head, swallowing.  “No I just – I feel, I haven’t been feelingwell all night.  Sorry.”

“Oh.  That sucks, I’msorry.  Is there anything I can do?” youask, heartbeat pounding in your ears.  So that’s why she’s so pale.

“Get us out of here,” she jokes, laughing lightly.  But laughing makes her wince, and she leansover a little.  “Oh.”

Is she going to throwup?  You struggle to stay calm.  “Do you feel…nauseous?” you asktentatively.   She nods in the dim light,taking shallow breaths.  “Okay, well – Ihave this,” you say quickly, pulling a plastic grocery bag out of yourbackpack.

“I think I’m okay,” she says.  “But thank you.”  You nod, pretending to believe her as you setthe bag on the floor.

“This is probably weird but – you’re Evelyn Park, right?”you ask, biting your tongue as you wait for her response.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling a little.  “Just don’t ask for a selfie right now.”

You laugh, grateful for the slight break in thetension.  “It’s too dark anyway,” youjoke back.

She asks about you, and you tell her some basics(conveniently not mentioning that she’s your favorite actress).  You can see her fighting nausea as youtalk.  After a few minutes ofconversation, you notice that she’s looking at the bag you dropped on thefloor.

“Here,” you say, offering it to her again.  She accepts it this time, leaning over miserably.  You can hear her stomach gurgling.   In a moment of boldness, you step over togather her thick hair behind her neck.  

“You don’t have to watch this,” she says, voice breaking asshe tries not to gag.  She gulps backsaliva.

“It’s okay,” you say, not moving.  Her hair smells like lavender.

She spits into the bag, drooling a little.  She gags, then retches, bringing up amouthful of dark-colored, watery vomit. You find yourself rubbing her back gently.  She pauses to breathe, then burps.  It turns into a wet retch, a thick wave ofliquid showering into the bag.  

Shaking, she spits and moves the bag away from her face.   “Uhhh,” she groans.  “That was terrible, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” you say, letting her hair downcarefully.  “Do you feel any better?”

“A little,” she nods. She lowers the bag to the floor, but doesn’t tie it up.  “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She looks for a tissue. You’re saved from having to respond when you hear something outside.  The emergency personnel have arrived.

“Oh good,” Evelyn breathes, wiping vomit from her lips.

In the hallway, you thank your rescuers as Evelyn ditchesthe puke bag and heads toward the stairwell.  You watch her, then follow.  What am I doing? 

In the fluorescent-lit, cool stairwell, you find her at thebottom of a staircase, hands on her knees.  She’s practically panting.  “You don’t need to–” she says, but is cut off as her stomach heaves and she throws up all over the concrete steps.

“Okay,” you say quickly, sidestepping the puke and pullingher hair away from her face.  “Here.”  You take her bag and tie her hair up in aloose ponytail.  She still has her handson her knees, as if she doesn’t trust herself to move.  

“I don’t think I’m done,” she says quietly.  She coughs wetly, but nothing comes up.

“Do you think you can make it to your room?” you ask gently.  She shakes her head slightly, and suddenly a huge gushof chunky puke comes rushing out of her mouth, splattering onto the floor.  Coughing, she stumbles a little and grabsonto your arm for support.  

“Are you okay?” you ask, more worried now.  Thatwas a lot of vomit.

Her breathing is ragged, but she’s trying to collectherself.  “I don’t – it really hurts,”she says, almost slurring her words as she leans against you.  Crap,is she going to pass out?

“I know,” you say softly, taking advantage of the awkwardposition to feel her forehead.  Fever. There’s no way she’s going toclimb two flights of stairs like this. “Let’s go back to the elevators, okay?”

“No,” she says immediately, trying to straighten up.  “I don’t want anyone to see me.  I can… I can climb.” As if to prove it toherself, she starts up the first staircase on her own, clinging to thehandrails.  She’s moving slowly, so youcatch up easily and offer her your arm again. She looks at you, then takes it reluctantly.

A few minutes later, you make it to the eighteenthfloor.  She tells you where her key is,and you badge out of the stairwell and into her room.  Inside, she slides down against the wall, tooexhausted to move any further.  For thefirst time you notice that there’s puke on her dress pants.

“Hey, um, I think you’d be more comfortable if you changedout of those clothes,” you say, trying not to sound creepy as you turn on a fewlights.

Instead of responding, she leans over a little and vomitsinto her lap, acidic liquid getting all over her clothes.  Slime hangs from her lips, but she’s too outof it to wipe it away.

“Evelyn,” you say, crouching down to try to help her.  You use a tissue to wipe her lips, removingwhat’s left of her maroon lipstick along with the vomit.   Shelets you do it, looking at you bleary-eyed. “I’m going to run a bath, okay?”  There’d better be a tub in this fancy suite.  She nods, leaning her head back against thewall.  “Is there anyone you want me tocall?”

She swallows.  “Mygirlfriend is in LA,” she says, and you can almost hear the pain in her voice.

“Oh.”

“I’ll be okay,” she says weakly.  You eye her, then head to the bathroom –there’s a huge, gleaming bathtub against the wall.  Thank God.  You turn the water on, settling on a suitablywarm temperature.

As it runs, you go back to check on Evelyn.  She’s trembling.  “Are you cold?” you ask, touching hershoulder.  She nods.  “Come on, there’s steam in the bathroom.”  You offer your hands, helping her stand.   

“You don’t have to stay,” she says, voice a little strongernow.  She looks down at her clothes,clearly mortified.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” you respond.

She gives you a tiny, grateful smile.  

Characters: Mira and Maggie

*Vomit warning*

*Contains sexual content*

She didn’t feel it until the waiter began to clear away their entrée dishes.  But once she felt it, she couldn’t ignore it. 

Maggie’s fingers tightened around her wine glass as she recognized tension in her upper abdomen, a quiet queasiness that she hadn’t noticed earlier.  Hmm, interesting…  She looked across the table at Mira, who was sipping water and studying the dessert menu.  

Mira looked up when she felt Maggie’s eyes on her.  “Room for dessert?” she asked, sliding a foot up along Maggie’s calf under the table.

“I think so,” Maggie said, draining her wine glass.   “You choose.”  

“I’m so full… but the chocolate sin cake sounds amazing,” Mira said.

Sin. Yes.  “Perfect,” Maggie purred, looking around the room for their waiter.  

(New) Characters: Mira (music teacher) and Maggie (lawyer)

*Vomit warning*

*Contains sexual content*

Saturday.  Sunlight crept through gaps in the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.  Maggie’s face was buried in her pillow, her dark hair draped across her shoulders as she slept peacefully.

Mira lay wide awake beside her, staring at specks of dust floating across a sunbeam.  Her hands rested on her stomach, which was making gurgly, unsettled noises.  After a particularly long gurgle, she winced and nudged Maggie’s shoulder. 

Maggie shifted, pulling her face away from the pillow sleepily.  “What is it?”  She looked at the clock – 9:02AM.

“I think I might be getting sick,” Mira said, reaching over and pushing hair behind Maggie’s ear.  “I thought we could…you know, if you’re interested.”

Maggie sat up, suddenly wide awake.  “It’s your stomach?” she asked, rubbing one eye.  

Mira nodded. “Yeah.  Kind of queasy…”  She looked at Maggie and smiled.  “I’d be up for it.” 

Maggie bit her lip, feeling herself starting to get turned on.  “Are you sure?  It’s been a long time since we did this – I know it’s not pleasant.”

“You’re just being polite. I can see your face flushing already. Come on – it’s not often that I volunteer to stuff myself on an upset stomach.”  Mira shot her an alluring smile, putting a hand over her stomach for dramatic effect.

“Mmmmm,” Maggie said, sliding over and kissing Mira on the lips.  Mira kissed back, one hand sliding under Maggie’s oversized t-shirt.  Maggie breathed a sigh of pleasure.  “What should I make you eat?” she asked between kisses.

“Your choice, mistress,” Mira said, emphasizing the last word as she gazed into Maggie’s brown eyes.  Her pupils already dilated with arousal, Maggie smiled as she considered the possibilities.