I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man.

I wanted to at least have one example made before offering animated commsions so we're gonna consider this one of those 😭

I'm offering 5-10 second ROUGH animations like this for 10$ I can also do a rough cleaned up sketch for 5$ (click on 'my art' tag for an idea of my style!)

This is meant for stomach based stuff but I'm open to sfw stuff as well.

I'm willing to try to draw whatever so just ask 👍

I only accept Cashapp 🙌

This is my first time with any form of nsfw commsisons so pls be patient bsfhjsfjks

Animation slots 2/2

Sketch slots 0/2

He pulls into his parking space, releases his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and slowly releases his breath. He hesitated a moment longer before going inside, not wanting to upset whatever balance currently exists in his body.

But he can't stay here all night, so he climbs out of the car, moving very deliberately. Holding himself stiffly, he walks into their building, and up the stairs to their apartment.

Once he's inside, he lets the door close behind him, and drops his bag on the floor, toeing off his shoes. As he's shrugging off his jacket, Jayden wanders over, leaning against the kitchen table as he greets him.

He considers, for half a second, not saying anything. He considers telling him everything.

Instead, he says, "Hey," voice squeezing up his throat, which is feeling four times smaller than normal, his stomach weighing him down.

Jayden frowns, blue eyes scanning him analytically.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

This time, Keegan is unable to answer, freezing with his jacket in hand. The question reminded Keegan of everything wrong that he's feeling (not that he ever, like, forgot, but it was a solid attempt).

Realizing he never answered Jayden, and that's a sure-fire way to worry him more than he already has, he offers a shake of his head, the best he can do in this state.

The motion throws him off, and it's as though the floor falls out from under his feet, and he stumbles, dropping the coat in a heap on the rug and scrambling away.

He can feel Jay's eyes following him, is sure he's probably saying something, but the rushing in his ears and sudden rush of adrenaline blocks all external sound.

That is, until he's hunched over the toilet breathing raggedly, and sound floods back in.

His own choked gasps as he tries not to lose his lunch, Jayden's half-panicked voice rushing after him, his stomach still protesting under his button-up shirt.

The world fades out again as he finally gives into the pressure, lurching forward with a gag, tired of fighting with his stomach. Puke rushes out of him, landing messily in the toilet. He braces his head on his arm, angling his head properly to aim.

He's still a quiet puker, not fighting his body so much as giving in. His stomach groans in warning, before his muscles clench and he ejects another wave of vomit.

When his abdomen stops seizing and he feels a little bit more settled, he fumbles for the roll of toilet paper, tearing off a piece. He wipes his mouth, and flushes the toilet, then heaves himself to his feet. He braces on the counter as his head spins, fine tremors running through his body.

When he settles enough for his vision to stop swirling, he washes his hands (it doesn't matter how sick he is - touching the toilet is just gross), and swishes some water through his mouth, spitting it back into the sick. It's not worth it to risk this reprieve his body has granted him.

He turns around to leave the washroom, hoping to sleep while he can, but he stumbles back a step when he finds Jayden leaning against the door jamb, hands stuffed in his pockets. Clearly he hadn't left, but Keegan hadn't realized he'd stayed.

"How're you doing?" Jayden asks, taking a half-step forward.

He's not sure how to answer that. When his stomach is upset, and especially when he's been puking, he always feels… raw. Like an onion with too many layers peeled back. It's uncomfortable, and in addition to the physical challenges, he always feels closer to the little kid who was trapped in his house.

Jayden is safe, he reminds his brain as he fights the instinct to move back a step in response.

"Wanna sleep," is what he finally mutters, which is true, but doesn't really answer the question.

"Sure, of course," Jayden agrees easily, and he must see Keegan's hesitation somehow, because he retreats out of the doorway, moving into the kitchen space and leaving a clear path for Keegan to make his way to his room.

Even though it's what he needs in his current mental situation, it feels kind of lonely to cross the flat by himself and curl up in bed. He almost wishes Jayden would follow him.

He consciously relaxes his mucles, starting in his legs and working his way up, a trick he learned to help him fall asleep better when he's not feeling his best, whether mentally or physically.

He slips into sleep easily enough, tired from the effort of holding himself together, then vomiting, and then piecing himself back together again.

— — —

The sound of the latch clicking. His door is opening.

His eyes pop open, and he sits up way too fast and his head is spinning and wow he's really dizzy. His stomach jumps into his throat, and he freezes, carefully swallowing to make sure nothing comes up.

When the black spots clear from his vision enough to make out the form at the door, he thinks he must be dreaming. He must not have woken up yet. There's no logical reason for his boyfriend to be standing in his doorway right now.

Still, he whispers, "Jamie?"

"Hi honey," he answers, voice soft and gentle, "I hear you're not feeling well?"

He's so… opposite of what he subconsciously expects, calm and sweet and careful.

"Nope."

"Can I come in?" Jamie asks, always so careful about boundaries and making sure he's not pushing too far.

Without overthinking the action, he slides an arm out towards Jamie, fingers reaching forward. Jamie gets the (not very subtle) hint, and crosses the room easily, hand sliding into place against his own. When their hands meet, there's a shock of warmth, and Keegan feels himself melt into a puddle.

Jamie, understanding that the offered contact usually means he's alright with expected touches, steps a little closer, slowly cupping his face.

"You don't have a fever," he murmurs. Keegan closes his eyes and leans into the comfort of his touch, which is why he feels Jamie stiffen.

Reflexively, he pulls his head back from Jamie's hand gazing at him warily.

Jamie seems to realize the reaction he had, and he withdraws his hands enough to give Keegan control over the situation, "It's okay, I'm sorry, I just realized you're still wearing your work clothes," he explains.

Keegan looks down at himself, frowning as he realizes Jamie's right, he's still in his button-up shirt and slacks.

"I'm gonna find you something more comfortable, yeah? What do you want?" Jamie asks as he moves over to Keegan's closet.

It's neatly organized, clothes in properly stacked rows, so Keegan instructs him from his post on the bed, "Um, grey pants from the bottom drawer, t-shirt from the top drawer, and, um, your hoodie from the hook."

Jamie efficiently finds the requested articles, and teasing, "Hey, I asked if you knew where this hoodie had gone!"

"It's big and warm," he says, then mutters under his breath, "And it smelled like you."

"It's sweet, it's okay. I'm not upset," he reassures, passing it over to Keegan.

He fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, his usually nimble fingers feeling clumsy and uncooperative.

"Can I help?" Jamie asks, inching forward, and Keegan nods, hands dropping back to his lap.

Jamie reaches out, making quick work of the buttons and Keegan's just focused on his little frown as he concentrates and how he's so painstakingly considerate.

When Keegan shimmies out of the shirt, Jamie averts his eyes, waiting until Keegan has the t-shirt on before meeting his eyes again.

Keegan finally unbuttons his pants, and it releases a pressure from his stomach that he hadn't even realized was there, and he makes quick work of sliding into his sweatpants.

"Oh, you're really bloated," Jamie comments quietly, and his cheek flush pink at the idea that Jamie noticed that much. His stomach chooses that moment to let out a long whine, and he tightens his arms around his middle, partly to try and muffle the sound, and partly because the sound is accompanied by a sick bubbling.

He brings his knees up closer to his chest, instinctively making himself smaller. Jamie perches on the edge of the bed now, a hand resting on his blanket-covered leg.

After a moment, Keegan frowns, and asks, "Wait, why are you here?"

Jamie reels backwards, looking surprised and a little hurt, "Oh. Um, I don't have to be. I can go get Jayden, if you want. Or Alix!" he offers, smiling to try and mask the sadness.

He goes to stand up, but Keegan's hand stops him, a loose but firm grip on his hand.

"No!" he exclaims, "No, wait, that's not what I meant! I meant how? How did you know to come?" After a second, he adds, "I don't want you to go," relieved when Jamie immediately sinks back onto the bed.

"Oh," he chuckles, "Jayden called me, said you were sick." He seems proud of this, since it's a definite mark of their relationship, that Jayden is willing to call him now.

Keegan looks shocked, blinking slowly as he processes this, "Jay called you?"

"Yeah. I'd call that progress, huh?" he says, with a teasing tone, shimmying up the bed to sit next to Keegan properly.

"Mm-hmm," sighs Keegan, leaning back and sinking against the pillows. His hand finds Jamie's again, pinkie fingers hooked in a way that doesn't restrict motion but still keeps them connected.

— — —

Keegan wakes to sharp pain in his stomach that has him going from sound asleep to wide awake in a second, panic gripping him as he realizes that throwing up is imminent.

A body moves next to him and he reflexively pulls back into himself, flinching away from even the possibility of contact, the writhing in his stomach making him too vulnerable to any potential attacks.

And then a voice filters through the panic. His boyfriend, his bookworm, Jamie.

Words flowing like a melody, he gently tells him, "You're sick, but you're safe. Jayden and Alix are in the other room, I'm right here."

"Ssssick," he repeats, and Jamie starts talking again, thinking he's still disoriented, but that train of thought is quickly disproved when Keegan gags, throat working to hold his stomach in check.

"Oh shoot! Here, here!" Jamie exclaims from behind him, and then he's nudging Keegan's hand with a plastic-lined bin.

Keegan hunches over the bin, grimacing as his stomach clenches again, and then he's puking. Harsh and louder than normal, he strains over the bin as acid squeezes up his esophagus. It burns, and it leaves him trying to breath through panting gasps as his stomach continues its torment.

The heaving eventually tapers off, and he's left trying to catch his breath while spitting out remnants of sour bile and wiping away tears of exertion that leaked from his eyes.

Jamie's cooing softly behind him, but for once, that's not enough. He feels unmoored, and he slowly realizes that the feeling tugging at his chest is want. Desire for contact, for safety, and most importantly, for Jamie.

His hand releases it's iron grip on the bin, shakily reaching back for Jamie, a pleased hum escaping his mouth when their hands connect.

Later, when he's cleaned up, and the sick-spattered bin has been removed, Keegan finds himself curled up with his head in Jamie's lap.

It's quiet now, but there's a tension running through Keegan that he's not sure what do with. He's not sure he can explain how comfortable he is here, but how that's scaring him too. It's not even the addition of another safe person that's the problem, but rather the idea that he's condemning Jamie to be that safe person.

"'M sorry," is what he ends up murmuring, his shredded voice sounding loud in the quiet room.

Jamie hums, fingers skimming his hair, "You don't have to be sorry," he says, confusion lacing his tone.

"You shouldn' have to deal with thiss," he expands haltingly, willing his brain to string his thoughts together, even though he feels like he could sleep for a year.

"With…?" Jamie's hand cups the back of his neck, somehow turning it into a gesture of soft touches and solace.

"Me, this," he explains, gesturing at the room which bears the signs of his illness. Besides Jayden and Alix, he's never had someone willingly accept the ugly parts of his parts, and part of him worries that Jamie's here out of obligation, some unspoken "boyfriend rule".

"Sweetheart, this isn't a chore for me. This is literally my job, as your boyfriend, and I want to be here for you." That… doesn't reassure him as much as it probably should.

"You're only here 'cause Jay called," he adds, almost whining as his wrung-out brain reveals his true thoughts.

"No hon. I'm here because you're sick, and you deserve someone in your corner. I really would rather be here with a sick you than at home without you." Well. That doesn't quite fit with the narrative Keegan's brain was telling him.

"But I'm - it's too much."

Jamie sighs gently, not as if he's annoyed, but as if he's thinking through his wording, carefully telling him, "You're not too much. Not for me. I think you're stuck with me." He's trying to lighten the mood, and remind Keegan that he's here of his own free will, but Keegan's not so easily swayed.

"Still. You shouldn't have to be."

"Keegan," Jamie says, a touch more stern, nudging him gently until he sits up so they are face to face, "Lovely, you are not "too much", and you're not being needy. You're being human. And right now, you're a sick human, who's allowed to ask for what you need. In fact, you're allowed to ask for what you want."

It's not going to magically fix everything, but for right now, it soothes Keegan's worries, reminding him that Jamie is one of the best people he knows, and also happens to care a lot for Keegan and his feelings.

"Okay," he offesr to the space between them, feeling Jamie relax with his agreement, as if he was physically holding the weight of Keegan's doubts.

They move back towards each other, Jamie reaching out first and Keegan fitting back against his chest, more entwined than they usually would be, but right now that's okay, both needing the physical reassurement of the other's presence.

As the room settles into that comfortable silence that exists only when two people are on the same wavelength, Jamie murmurs, "I like spending time with you, and while I wish you weren't feeling so bad, I'm really glad I can be here with you."

Keegan huffs sleepily, muttering, "Careful, you're starting to sound like one of your cheesy romance books."

"You mean the one's you read as soon as I'm done?" Jamie teases, fingers finding Keegan's chin and tipping his head up.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers, leaning down to press a quick kiss against his lips.