so I chugged the whole la croix without burping once. But then I didn’t feel like I wanted to burp at all and felt super nauseous. I took a big risk standing up and boy HOWDY am I glad I did!!!
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I just want to hear someone moaning, see them rubbing their stomach, burping, gagging up tiny mouthfuls of stringy spit. I want them to say, “i think I’m gonna be sick…” - want to hear “I’m so- nauseous” as they fight through the retch building in their throat.
I could watch forever, their heaving stomach as they get close, building up anticipation, breathing through it, begging for it all to come up, talking about how sick they feel, on and on. Drooling, tongue lolling out their mouth, gags getting more productive, like a mantra: “i think I’m going to… [gag, spit, sigh, moan]” And repeat.
He wasn't, really. He ate plenty of things and he was more than a decent cook, he knew how to use spices and tried different dishes regularly... Except certain things were just icky.
Like fucking snails and slugs that Jonah ate. To this day just thinking about the fact he had eaten that once made him nauseated and sometimes even made Leo genuinely gag at the memory. He couldn't understand how Jon could possibly eat that.
On his day to day, though, this was not an issue. They meal prepped for the week — Leo did most of the cooking, Jonah bought the ingredients and cleaned the mess — in order to avoid the constant stream of junk food and deliveries. Leo did it partially because of the sheer amount of money that got drained away through deliveries, but Jon only was a part of it because of the health benefits. Either way, it was a win.
Today he was in the office, with his packed lunch. Nothing fancy, a poke bowl he had made twins with Jon's, with shredded chicken as well as all sorts of summery ingredients, such as cherry tomatoes, kiwi, mangoes, bell peppers and a generous scoop of cream cheese and gohan. It was a colorful, beautiful plate and he had been salivating over it the whole morning, his stomach was growling loudly as he went to the break room by lunch hour and fished out the bowl from their shared fridge.
"What are you doing tomorrow night, Leo?" Chuck asked, leaning on the opposite wall to him, as he waited for his meal to microwave. Another good thing about Leo's option was that he didn't need to heat it up.
"Nothing," Leo shrugged, "stay in, why?"
"It's a Friday, wanna grab a beer and watch the baseball game?"
Leo opened a pleased smile. While Lucas and Vin both played baseball and had joined the community team with Leo and his coworkers, only Chuck cared enough to actively watch the games, like Leo did.
"Sure! Absolutely!"
The microwave beeped and Leo waited for Chuck to retrieve his food container, as they moved to the lounge area to eat together. They were talking about teams and Leo was excitedly gesturing with his fork, when Dean skipped into the room and plopped on the chair next to Leo, with a pleased smile on.
"What are we talking about?" He asked, not one bit embarrassed or shy and Leo blushed on his behalf, wondering what life must be like for such extroverted people such as Dean or Lucas or Bell, who could just butt into conversations without feeling self conscious...
Granted, he wouldn't say Bella was extroverted, but she was certainly forward and immune to feeling embarrassed. It was a skill.
As he mused over this, Leo munched on the food absently minded, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and the biting it- Only for his teeth to slide as he got a chewy piece that was just fat.
Immediately his appetite was out of the window and his body got covered in goosebumps. He gagged before his brain could fully compute what was happening, dropping his fork in a haste as he cupped a hand over his mouth and shot up from the table, running towards the toilets.
Vaguely, he heard Dean yelling after him, but his stomach had flipped with revulsion and Leo skipped inside the staff bathroom, pushing a stall open and dropping to his knees just as he coughed the half chewed piece and retched with enough force to bring up a mouthful of something chunky and vile.
His mind kept hiccupping over what he had just felt in his mouth, stuck in the sensation, and Leo gagged out of disgust, planting his elbows on the toilet seat as his whole body lurched forward.
There was a thump on his back and he coughed up another stream of vomit, blindly reaching over his head to reach the flush, but the toilet flushed before he could find it. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the slimy feeling, stomach still bubbling and threatening to send up the rest of his chick- Uuurgh, the rest of his lunch.
"Jesus," Chuck breathed out, voice spooked, "what the hell happened?"
Leo collapsed onto his ass, groaning and hanging his head as he tried to catch his breath. His stomach was aching from the violent heaving, still churning with vestigial nausea, "uhm-" he gulped down, then muffled a wet belch in his hand, frothy enough that he leaned to the side to spit the ropey saliva in the bowl, "chick- HIC-" he jerked with a hiccup and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut up his mind, "lunch- Gross-"
"Your lunch was gross?" Chuck snorted and Leo sat back down, tilting his head up to look at the guy. Chuck had tan, reddish skin and extremely dark, straight hair that was always brushed back. He was stocky, clearly frequenting the gym, but not particularly tall like Leo or Dean.
"Yeah..."
"You're like a child, Wagner," Chuck laughed, stepping back, now sufficiently calmed down over Leo's wellbeing, "maybe you should go home and nurse that stomachache."
"It's fine," Leo rolled his eyes, grabbing on the stall wall to pull himself up. His stomach gurgled, unhappily, and he froze in a hunched over position, taking slow breaths in order to avoid lurch right back to the bowl, "just... Just grossed out..."
"Go home," Chuck shooed him with a hand gesture, "work from home, we have those home office days for this exact reason. No one wants your pukey ass in the office in case you have a bug."
"I don't have a bug," Leo groaned, but he would be lying if the idea of going home wasn't enticing, not because he was sick, but because he felt exposed and raw. Besides, Jon was probably home, he wasn't scheduled for today... Hopefully?
"Go home, Leo," Chuck was now serious, "that's the most ridiculous way anyone has ever gotten sick in this office."
Leo flipped him off as he stumbled back to the sinks, washing his mouth and face. Just swishing water around in his mouth was enough to make him gag and he shuddered with revulsion, "yeah okay, I'll go home," he wiped his chin with his hand, feeling too weak to reach for the paper towels less than two feet away. Chuck grabbed a handful of them with a little huff.
"Thank you," the older guy said in an amused tone, walking out of the bathroom.
Leo gathered his stuff back in his office, then went back to the garage, passing by Sandy, who cooed over him, all "Oh, you poor thing, feel better," rubbing his arm in a reassuring manner and that made Leo turn a deep crimson shade. Damn office gossip, she hadn't even been there when he threw up!
On the drive over, he gagged twice more at a red light, as his brain insisted on recalling the damn chicken, but Leo valiantly swallowed it back down.
He was pouty and cranky by the time he made it inside their apartment, not even JD meowing at his presence seeming to cheer him up.
"What is it, baby?" Jon cooed, following the cat out of the room, and then paused, eyebrows raised, "shouldn't you be at the office?"
He was leaning against the wall that marked the end of their hallway, wearing sweatpants with a compression wifebeater on top, but over all of it he sported a silk mustard yellow robe, with matching slippers. Leo snorted at the sight.
"Clearly, I am not," he answered, dropping his suitcase by the door and crossing the room in order to topple in Jonah's arms, sending his husband stumbling back and chuckling.
"Oh, hi, hello," his voice came muffled by Leo's hair in his mouth and he sputtered, squirming to pull him into a correct hug, "what's wrong, angel?"
"Don't steal my petname," Leo grumbled, turning his head to inhale Jonah's perfume and feeling the previous disgust start to melt away. Jonah always smelt like a damn dream, like the most squeaky clean person in the world, no matter how many hours after a shower it was.
"What. Is. Wrong?" Jon punctuated each word with a kiss to Leo's temple and the blonde grinned, turning his head so he could catch the last one in his mouth and then pulled back just a smidge.
"I threw up, Chuck sent me home."
"And you just kissed me?" Jonah raised an unimpressed eyebrow, glaring at him, causing Leo to snort.
"I'm not sick, the chicken in the lunch was-" instead of saying what it was, Leo gagged and shuddered, making Jonah laugh.
"Oh, you diva," he grabbed Leo's face, pressing a kiss to his pout, "chicken was icky in your tummy, yeah?"
"You're soooo mean to me," Leo whined, squinting at him, and biting down a smile as Jonah tugged him closer and he promptly went, happily being squished into a hug.
Jonah didn't make a move to get them to the couch or the bedroom, instead they stayed standing in the middle of the living room, not that either one seemed to mind. His husband rubbed a hand up his back, fingers running through his hair as Leo melted into a puddle.
"Jon?"
"Yeah?" His breath tickled Leo's ear and he smiled, pressed himself even closer, if possible.
Imagine getting sick over the course of hours. You barely notice it at first - you’re getting frustrated more easily maybe, but you’re just tired. An hour or two goes by and you realize you feel off, but you can’t put a finger on why. It’s only when your lunch is sitting heavy in your stomach that you really notice the nausea.
But it isn’t too hard to ignore. You’re just dehydrated. Except by midafternoon the water isn’t sitting well. And by dinner your stomach is starting to hurt, but you force something down anyway. You’re fine, really.
If you take a shower you’ll feel better. Standing there, though, water running colder by the moment, your stomach flips and you gag. You sit down as dizziness rolls through you, letting out a soft groan. Your stomach aches and you can feel the pressure building at the back of your throat.
You retch a little and press a hand to your mouth, then retch harder as another wave of nausea pulses through your stomach. The water is cold now, but you only think to turn it off as you begin to shiver. You don’t have it in you to move enough to reach the toilet, so you sit, soaked and freezing, on the shower floor as your stomach convulses, pushing the dinner that had been sitting so heavily up into your throat. You try to swallow, but choke instead and spit vomit into your lap. Another wave comes up, more violently this time. You don’t feel any better.
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hhaha.. seems you guys are still fond of my tummy's constant bickering. So take some upset stomach noises instead.
My stomach wasn't happy with the milkshake and hot cocoa I had today. The noises had me shifting in my seat.. it feels so wriggly in there? I dont know how to describe it.
Ever been comforted by someone when your belly was sick?
omg, only once. (tw for some emeto and intox)
long-winded story time:
i was at a party a few months ago, and i don’t really drink very much, but i had decided to that night. it was my first time really getting drunk, and i wasn’t used to the feeling at all. i’m also pretty slender, so seriously, total lightweight.
after two beers, my stomach was already getting sloshy and bubbly, but i didn’t care. i pounded a third one after some gentle encouragement from my friend M who invited me. this is such a vivid memory, but right after i finished the third beer, i gave this awful belch from all the carbonation, and M clapped me on the shoulder and said, “that’s a good boy.” 😵💫😵💫 oh man, that altered my brain chemistry. i could feel all the carbonation in my tummy fizzing and bloating, making it rumble, but the music was loud enough no one noticed. my stomach swelled under my shirt, sloshing from drinking so fast and gurgling up a storm. i hadn’t eaten much that day, so i was absolutely starving, and i knew that was probably what was upsetting my belly so much. I started scarfing down some of the chips and dip the host had left out to try and soothe my stomach.
a little while later, we played a card game. i remember that on the table where we were playing, someone had set out this walmart vanilla sheet cake, like for a birthday (it wasn’t a birthday party, but that’s the kind of cake it was) and i just could not stop eating it. it was so good!! cake has a tendency to upset my belly though, and after my third big piece, i could feel my stomach start to churn. i’d had a few more drinks (mostly vodka) and i figured it was just the alcohol making me queasy. i knew that when that happens, you should eat something to try and soak up the alcohol, right? so of course i helped myself to another several slices of cake. by this time, i’d lost count of the pieces— i’m pretty sure i just ate it with a fork after a while— hoping to make the icky queasiness go away. by the time the game was over, my stomach was swollen and heavy, bubbling with drinks and snacks and about three quarters of a sheet cake.
god, i was so stuffed. i could feel my belly groan as i sat back on the couch.
i’d started to get a little dizzy, too. all the drinks had gone to my head and were making it spin, which is a terrible combination with a gurgling, churning belly stuffed absolutely full. i pressed my hand to my swollen belly, and it groaned in response, a bubbly whine that reverberated all across my tight stomach.
you know that feeling when you just know something’s wrong? that was it. something was wrong with my belly. M, who’d been teasing me for finishing the cake, looked over at me. i must’ve looked pretty green, cause he said, “hey, you don’t look so good.” of course, i didn’t wanna look too pathetic in front of my friends, so i just said something like, “i ate too much, but i’m okay. i just feel a little sick.”
he chose that moment to put his HAND on my bloated, queasy belly, inspecting the state of my swollen stomach. it gurgled under his palm, and he said, “you feel really full. i can’t believe you ate so much. how many drinks have you had?”
i shook my head, i’d lost count. i was just taking what other people offered, i hadn’t been keeping track. my stomach lurched, and i belched quietly into my fist. Every nauseous bubble and groan from my heavy belly felt amplified under his hand, and i felt my cheeks get hot. after another burp and queasy rumble, i knew i had to go find somewhere to empty my overstuffed, churning stomach. i remember saying, “ugh… actually, my tummy is really upset— belch— i think i’m gonna be sick. i ate way too much…”
M helped me up off the couch and led me the bathroom to get sick. i could feel my roiling stomach slosh with every step, bubbling like a pot of boiling pasta. i’m really pathetic about getting sick, and i kept whimpering after every burp. eventually, the mess in my overstuffed belly became too much, and he rubbed my back as everything came back up. the whole time, he kept saying stuff like, “it’s okay, bud, you’re okay,” and, “that’s it, get it all up. you’ll feel better once everything is out of your system.” i was so embarrassed but he was so sweet and kind and comforting. he stayed with me most of the night (we both slept there) and brought me water and gatorade. i was quite hungover, it being my first time really drinking, and he felt bad for encouraging me to keep having more, i think.
my tummy took all day to settle down again, and i haven’t drank at all since. i don’t see M as much anymore cause we don’t have class together this semester, but i still think about that night all the time. the sloshing and bloating from all the beer, the little queasy burps, M’s hand on my achy belly saying he could feel how full i was, my belly rumbling under his hand, him rubbing my back while i got sick, taking care of me all night, man it was good.
thanks for sending an ask!!! i really loved finally writing this story out.
