hottest thing a guy can do is arched back, hands planted on the floor throwing up while trembling and whimper. clothed or nude as long as he's dripping with sweat
pls avoid if you find any discomfort in vomit this one is descriptive and gross!
Uncontrollable and super gross nauseating throwing up is always oh mwah 100/10 chef kiss boner twitch absolutely wonderful but dry heaving is underrated pls understand. Top of the tier list goes to the disgusting guttural throat sounds that happen right before the person has finally gagged themself enough to be able to get close to choking anything up even if its just bile and stomach fluids in the end. oh. Amazing. Are my pants getting tighter
He leans back in his office chair, his gut bloated and churning “ugh not now” he pleads to himself. He manages to ignore it and get some work done. He looks up at the clock and sees its 6pm “oh thank God, time to go home”. He packs up and starts to walk home, his gut is much more bloated and queasy than when he first sat down. He can feel the churning and burbling.
The walk home is tough. His belly is churning badly. “Oh God…please no…anything but throwing up” he pleads over and over. He takes some deep breaths and desperately tries to quell his stomach, which he does! That is of course, until he feels the imminent need to have diarrhea. He spots a gas station and sprints into the bathroom where he obliterates the toilet. “Ugh that can’t be good” he thinks to himself. He continues is walk home not knowing what the night will bring.
The minute he gets home he immediately takes his shirt off and changes into comfy clothes. He sits on the couch and cradles his tummy, somehow feeling worse than before the diarrhea. “Mmmmph I don’t want to do this” he pleads as he struggles with accepting the idea that he’s going to throw up.
He tries to drink some pepto, some ginger ale, praying that it will help. Every time a surge of nausea hits, he fights like hell to hold it down. “Maybe I can sleep it off” he thinks. He crawls into bed, a sweaty mess. A half hour later an intense diarrhea sends him scrambling to the toilet. In the middle of reliving himself - his worst nightmare is realized. He’s going to throw up, there’s no fighting it, but he’s in the middle of using the toilet and it’s not like he can stop…
“Oh no…oh god OH GOD!” He projectile vomits all over his lap and the floor. It’s absolutely everywhere. “Oh my god, Jesus Christ!” He sits there panting as he struggles to process what just happened. His symptoms only worsen and before he can process what’s happening, round 2 hits. It takes him 20 minutes to finish clearing out.
He cleans the floor, cleans the toilet, showers, and gets back into bed. Now that he’s thrown up, he just wants to get it all out. To his surprise, nothing else happens, so he gets back into bed.
A few hours of rest is interrupted by a deep churning. 2AM he’s kneeling in front of the toilet - his belly so bloated and taught it’s pushing against the brim. “Ohhhh, nooooo not again! Hmmmmph! No not again PLEASE not again!” He moans and pleads but projectiles into the toilet, worse than last time. His belly churns and stirs up more as it pours into the toilet. As soon as he gets up to head back to bed, his bottom end joins in - at least this time it’s one end at a time.
Whether he likes it or not, he’s camping out in the bathroom tonight.
I am doomed... I finally got my bf's audio after loads of mental gymnastics that I put myself through... I pretty much thought I'd never get anything and there's no way I wanted to put him through pain so I wanted to wait for natural but I completely gave up and THEN I GET THIS ?! And OMG... I have always had hard time getting turned on by men's emeto stuff... But this man got EVERYTHING I look for... Both stories and whatever I would like to see when a person pukes... My little (6"1') nauseous baby struggled to bring up vomit... 7 heaves of liquid coming up... I asked him for details, when the first splash came up, he mentioned thinking "oh it's gonna start" next three was forceful heaves but only a little came up and he said that when that happened, he could feel something stuck in his throat and stomach and he knew it was gonna come out. And then during the huge gushes, he said he could feel pressure and a rush of liquid shooting up and he felt relieved after each gush and well... The last two heaves were dry hehe...
I just had lunch... Although I feel fine (ecstatic) I am so tempted to induce vomiting just to feel what he felt aaaah... But it's takeout so I don't wanna waste money and it's just not fun when I'm inducing it unless it's inducing to get over with nausea... I feel exceptionally fine
Could you write part two of the Dominic fic where he feels even worse?
Sick and whiny
Dominick feverish and sick + Melissa caretaker part 2.
Melissa had never been in bed with a man.
Which might have sounded strange in her late 20s, but when you take care of three little sisters, have a controlling mother, get monitored by a wolf pack 24/7, and put yourself through the perilous 8-year-long journey to become a doctor, you don't get much time to date people.
Nor do you have anywhere you could safely go to. Monitored, judged, under surveillance, always being timed and expected.
Dominick in her bed was a surreal sight. Not because of any latent eroticism just yet, but for the sheer presence of someone else in her most safe and only private space.
Her pillow, her blanket, her mattress. The dark she controlled and could hide in, the precious time at night that belonged only to her.
Dominick didn't seem to get the significance, flopping down and immediately falling asleep.
She went through the trouble to ask him if she could remove his shirt. He grumbled something in response, so she figured as an emergency, she could go ahead.
Working on the buttons from his collar all the way down to his waist while kneeling over him on the bed was a very strange sensation. She felt like she was doing something bad, as if she didn't see or handle patients in worse conditions.
It was difficult to see Dominick as a patient. Somehow, the switch, the way she could not make it personal when she handled someone, when she needed a clear head, didn't work on him.
"I'm going to roll you to the side, so I can get the shirt out," she commented as she did just that. Even if he wasn't awake, she imagined he could understand on some level. That it might make him calmer.
His naked skin was slick with sweat and radiated heat.
"I'm going to check your temperature," she warned, cupping his cheeks with one hand and putting the other over his forehead. Over 38 and climbing, if her guess was right.
His chest hitched under her, and he turned to the side with a burp that made him gag at the end.
Okay, enough ogling. She went to fetch a laundry tub for the side of his bed; they were the easiest to rinse out.
Meanwhile Dominick shook off the covers, hand on his belly that was gurgling loudly. A hiccup jostled his frame, but he didn't wake up.
Melissa opened the window and sat down on the edge of the bed, considering how acceptable it would be to loosen his belt and strip him of his pants. They couldn't feel well on his sensitive stomach.
"I don't mean anything, Dom. This is going to help, I swear." She pried the leather open carefully, unbuttoning his jeans...but how would she wiggle him out of them? She tried tugging at the fabric by his ankles, but it only moved a couple of centimeters.
When he woke up, she would use the opportunity and help him get them off. Yeah, that would be best.
She had also called him 'Dom'. Twice now, once when he was awake. Would he remember that when he got better?
When he had been asleep for a significant amount of time without much change, it occurred to her she had been in the same PJs for the last three days and hadn't even brushed her teeth.
Timing herself, she managed to shower, wash her hair, and clean up in under 20 minutes.
She found Dominick in the same position, though he was now huddled into himself, goosebumps on his arms.
Putting the covers back down, she wondered how weird it would be to actually stay next to him in bed. Wasn't it logical if she wanted to keep an eye on him? But it was only 6 in the evening, hardly a good excuse to climb into bed with him.
She checked his forehead again. Not rising, but the temperature wasn't dropping either.
Letting him enjoy the covers for a little longer, she came back with small wet towels, putting one around his neck and forehead and wrapping the others around his wrists and ankles.
One good thing that came from this weird afternoon was that now she could stare at him without him noticing. It still made her feel guilty.
...
Around 8 pm she woke up from her dozing in the chair next to the bed to Dominick retching.
"It's okay, it's okay. The tub's right here," she said, guiding him by the shoulder to turn over the edge of the bed.
Dominick was red in the face, burping loudly in the right direction before a mouthful of bile came up. His stomach was hellbent on spasming more though. He retched and retched, whole body jerking with the effort.
"Shit, that hurts," he said, spitting into the laundry tub. It seemed to take too much effort to even collapse back into the pillows.
Melissa pushed at his arm to coax him to lie back down, but he wouldn't budge. "You haven't eaten much these past two days, have you."
"Then why do I still feel nauseous?" He rubbed at his eyes, forehead dripping with sweat onto the bedsheets.
"It's a virus, not food related," she said. She grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand she left there along with some pills against the fever. She didn't have hope of getting into him right now. "Drink this."
His hazel eyes narrowed at her. "What? It won't stay down."
"I know. But you are going to throw up either way and it would hurt less if you had something in your stomach."
Dominick eyed the glass as if she offered him a cup of poison, swallowing heavily. "I don't know..."
His naked stomach was bloated, sinking and rising right under her arm.
"You can try to keep it down. Even a little while could help you absorb some moisture," she said with a shrug. Maybe it would feel better if the water and doubled nausea had a purpose and weren't just there to be promptly vomited back up.
He covered his mouth with his hand, burping loudly into it. His jaw tightened in determination. "Whatever. Give it here."
Without much hesitation he took the glass from her and downed the water.
"Slow down-"
Before she could finish the sentence, he emptied half of the glass. He gagged into it once, but kept going until it was finished, then let the glass fall onto the bed next to him. "Oh god, that doesn't feel good."
Melissa grabbed the tub and put it onto the bed right under his chin.
Dominick propped himself up on one elbow while bracing against the tub with the other, taking quick breaths through his open mouth. A loud burp came up that made him quiver in revulsion.
She shifted to sit on the bed next to him instead of the chair, her hand landing on his back. Another shiver ran through him.
His spine arched into her hand, and then he was burping up the water back into the tub. Two more violent retches and more liquid hit liquid. From this close up, she could hear his stomach slosh, could hear the bubbling of the water as it rushed up his throat.
Gently, she rubbed circles on his back, featherlight touch of someone who wasn't sure if she was welcome to be there, but wanted her presence noticed.
Dominick kept gagging and spitting up mouthfuls of water for the next 10 minutes. He was drooling over the edge of the tub, too tired to hold his head up.
"I think you are finished." She took one of the wet towels and dabbed at his sweaty face, under his nose, chin, and lips.
He shivered under her touch, closing his eyes. "Still don't feel right."
"You are pretty sick, that's to be expected. Try to get some more sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
"You sure?" he croaked but let her take the tub away so he could flop down onto his back, chest rising steadily.
He let out a little sigh as she continued cleaning up his chin and then down his neck and chest. "You have your area of expertise, and I have mine," she said. Even if he wasn't better, he would relax sooner if he thought so.
Dominick closed his eyes, but he was frowning.
"Get rid of those pants. It will be more comfortable," she said, trying to sound casual as she got up with the tub to clean it out. Leaving him the perfect opportunity to do so if he was feeling uncomfortable around her...though he didn't seem to register he was naked from the waist up and she was touching him.
When she got back, Dominick was under the covers, the pants discarded on the floor.
She re-wet the towels, so they would be cold again, folding one neatly over his forehead. "I'll let you sleep."
When she tried to get up, his hand grabbed her wrist. His eyes were open to slits. "Where are you...are you going away?"
"I don't want to disturb you." She figured she would return to check on him when he was asleep.
"You don't." He licked his dry lips, looking bashful all of a sudden. "Sorry. I just don't...I don't know if I can sleep."
She sank back down onto the edge of the bed. "Why not?"
"Feel achy all over," he mumbled, looking away. "Could you stay?"
Her eyebrows jumped up. He was so tall and serious and professional in all settings. How unexpected that he got so whiny when feverish.
"Would you like me to...?"
"Please."
She wasn't sure what he was asking until he patted the other side of the bed. "Stay?"
That was so weird. Nevertheless, somehow she felt herself compelled to comply, no matter how childish it sounded.
She circled the bed to get onto the empty, unruffled side, tucking herself against the second pillow on top of the covers.
Dominick turned to his side, facing her, his belly poking out from the covers like a pink dome.
He reached out his hand for her, landing on her hip, and then rolled closer, face against her stomach.
"What...?"
"Sorry," he said, voice muffled and stifling a burp against her shirt. "Everything hurts. Like...broken glass under my skin."
Her hand hovered above his shoulder again. "Yes?"
"My stomach feels like it's burning," he whined, forehead nuzzling against her, face out of view.
Giving in, she let her hand fall onto his back. It elicited a whine, and he squirmed even closer.
How did he turn so childish when sick? It felt almost too intimate to be allowed to see him like this.
She rubbed his broad back where she could reach it, heart pounding away in her chest.
I just want to spend the weekend with someone who has the stomach flu. I’ll take care of them till they eventually give it to me. Then we will spend the weekend in pukey misery together🤢🤮
the gurgling is so hot. vomiting is like an orgasm. You genuinely cannot stop it once you reach it. even then, you can edge off a climax forever but puke is like the ultimate betrayal from your own body. you feel ur stomach cramp and then your throat fills and your body wants to eject so bad, it forces you into position, you mouth fills with saliva and you gag and gag . god. its so hot
Just thinking about how hot it would be if a boy and I wanted to cuddle, and his stomach was bothering him, but he didn’t tell me. and not wanting to disturb the mood, he’s forced to sit there and endure me snuggling him, my arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen because he let me be the big spoon for a change, and of course I squeeze him tighter, because I have no idea his stomach is cramping and swirling as if it were stuck on a spin cycle…until he suddenly tries to spring out my grip, his mouth rapidly filling with saliva as he scrambles to move away, before ultimately losing the battle with his nausea, and vomit spews forcefully from his mouth and nose, splattering miserably on his sweatpants and the bedsheets below.
Bonus points if he was feeling a bit more than nauseous that day, and my arms squeezing around his abdomen encourage his bowels to let go at the same time as his stomach,, 🍓
lately obsessed with the thought of a sickie vomiting on the caretaker who's holding them
maybe they were that deep in denial about needing to puke and it comes on too quickly to move away
maybe they've already been sick a lot and the caretaker thinks the sickie must be empty so they don't bother moving when the next wave comes on
maybe they've finally managed to drink some water and the caretaker is trying to talk them through the rising nausea so they can keep it down
either way they're curled up in the caretaker's arms, held close to their chest, head resting on their shoulder, and maybe the caretaker had the foresight to bring a bucket but it's just out of reach when the moment comes and the sickie ends up puking helplessly against the caretaker's shoulder or chest while the caretaker keeps holding them and assuring them it's fine, just get it out, don't worry about it
can't stop thinking about a sickie with a miserable cold missing their partner. without them, the bed feels so big and the apartment feels empty, quiet. they grab their partner's hoodie that they borrowed and put it on. their nose starts to run uncontrollably, not only because of the cold, but also because of the sobs they're trying to hold back. they end up making a snotty mess all over the soft fabric, but somehow that makes them feel a little better. they close their eyes and try to get some sleep while they wait for their partner to come home.
prguitarman
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
