Vulnerability at its best, in the shape of a stomachache

Sam. 25+. NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT. I'm not here for the comfort, I'm here for the pain. The weakness, the impotence, the misery, the reactions (and overreactions), the temporary living hell a stomachache can be. Disclaimer: pictures are AI generated (apologies for the constant inconsistencies) however the text is original.

[kickmyguts95]

INTRO POST

🈲NSFW CONTENT. 18+ ONLY🈲

⛔STRICTLY NO MINORS⛔

🔞🔞🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞🔞🔞

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Hey, it's Sam. I don't promise to post regularly, however this kinky stuff is getting out of control. There is not enough room in my brain to hold all of it and I desperately need a place to spit it out (no pun intended), so here I am.

I've been lurking around for quite a while now and one thing that kept me in the shadows for such a long time is that I noticed I'm too kinky for the normies, but too normie for the kinky community. Well, none said life was easy anyway.

Regardless, here I am because it always starts with a stomachache. Every.single.fantasy.I.daydream.about. Every.single.piece.of.fiction.I.write- fanfiction included. Some get lost and forgotten in the depths of my imagination after being replaced by the novelty. Others turn into short stories and even novel-length material (which miraculously I managed to polish in a way none-with the exception of perhaps my kinky pals- would notice it started as a random, isolated scene revolving around my biggest kink). If that wasn't enough, I've been collecting these AI generated pics of 2D hotties (my other biggest kink) to accompany those random scenes and it was about time I put them together.

Things I'm into: stomachaches (from overeating, food poisoning, stomach bug/flu, anxiety, drinking, faking it, etc) and the reactions to the pain (from both the sickies and the caretakers/witnesses)

Things I'm not into: pregnancy (any gender, although food babies are welcome), period pain, serious health conditions.

I'm not an artist and all pics are AI-generated.

That's it from me. See you around!

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INDEX 🖋

💘 [Romance] x [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

🩸 [Vampires] x [1] [2] [3] [4]

🎸 [Bandom] x [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

🏠 [Slice of life] x [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

👨‍💼 [Workplace drama] x [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

👨‍🎓 [University/High School drama] x [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

🌟 [Specials] x 🎄[1]🎉[2]💕[3]🏮[4]🎃[5]

🔝 [Personal favorites] x [1] [2] [3] [4]

[kickmyguts95]

It wasn’t the alarm what woke him up. It was a sudden, sharp stomachache that hit out of nowhere at 5 a.m.

Looking back, it was only a matter of time. The summer homestay experience had been amazing so far, but he’d been overeating on a regular basis, trying all kinds of foods and drinks as if it were his only chance to taste them, and now his stomach was demanding he slowed down.

At first, Shin tried to ignore the pain, tossing and turning on the mattress in search of comfort, gently rubbing his stomach in slow circles. But the cramps grew worse, more intense, and more frequent. He couldn’t get back to sleep.

Finally, he gave in to the pain and sat up on the edge of the bed, letting out a soft groan as he bent forwards. His arms were tightly crossed over his abdomen, his forehead nearly touching his knees. The position offered some relief, applying the right amount of pressure on his bloated, aching stomach. He felt something moving inside him, perhaps gas, and tried to release it. He thought it would be safe, that it would give him some sort of comfort.

It wasn't. It was a mess—hot and sudden. The warmth spread, soaking through his underwear, his joggers, and within seconds, all the way to the fitted sheet. Panic hit him instantly. He could feel the wet underwear clinging to his skin, and the revolting smell was unmistakable. His joggers were dark enough to hide the stain, but the bedsheets weren’t going to lie to the human eye.

The last thing Shin needed was to deal with this on top of the stomachache. His mind raced with no clear direction. This wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t his house. The thought of confessing to the host family made him feel even worse—his stomach twisting now with an added layer of anxiety. He could feel the knot of embarrassment making everything worse.

Shin had no time to rush to the bathroom. Desperation took over, and he knelt beside the desk, barely making it in time to spit the contents of his stomach into the small plastic bin, praying it wouldn’t spill over the carpet.

[kickmyguts95]

He stood by the vending machine, its bright glow casting light over the alleyway. It was already getting dark, but he couldn't go home yet. His eyes flicked from one drink to the next, debating which one might irritate his already upset stomach the least. One hand gripped a 100 yen coin, his fingers absently playing with it, while the other hand pressed into his aching abdomen beneath his cotton T-shirt.

He hadn’t eaten all day, the mere thought of food making him nauseous, afraid it would come right back up. He wasn’t hungry—he hadn’t been for hours—but his body was running on empty, and he needed something to power through the last few hours while they finished the assignment.

The ache in his stomach wasn’t new. It had started the night before, a persistent pain that kept him tossing and turning long after everyone else had gone to bed. He had ended up kneeling in front of the toilet past midnight, retching until every last bite of dinner had splattered on the walls of the bowl. Yet, the pain was back when morning came. The same burning sensation, sharp and unrelenting, dragging him out of sleep before his alarm had a chance to go off.

[kickmyguts95]

[Disclaimer: chatgpt wrote the lyrics for me. Credit to whoever chatgpt stole them from]

Kazuki had promised the lyrics would be ready by Friday. But Thursday night came, and all he had was a blank page and a stomachache. A vicious, relentless stomachache that kept him awake, twisting and turning in bed, unable to focus on anything but the excruciating pain.

He stared at the bedside clock, fingers pressing into his abdomen, counting down the minutes to Friday. It seemed impossible. Between the constant trips to the bathroom and the sharp, cramping waves of agony, it felt like his body was decided to jeopardise the deadline.

But dawn came and the song was miraculously done, barely held together by Kazuki's desperation to finish it and get some rest. He shared the draft in the group chat, hoping no one could tell how close he’d come to completely giving up.

Verse 1 Knives in my ribs, you came unannounced, Settle in deep, start tearing me down. Cold sweat baptism, bathroom-floor prayer, I’d sell my soul just to not feel you there.

You coil like a curse I can’t outrun, Every second hits harder than the last one. You don’t whisper, you don’t warn, You kick the door in, make me mourn.

Pre-Chorus I guess I let you inside, Now I’m paying the price. You won’t leave scars, But you rewrite my insides.

Chorus YOU’RE RIPPING ME OPEN, I’M LOSING CONTROL, A RIOT TEARING THROUGH MY CORE, NO SAFE WAY HOME. CALL IT LOVE, CALL IT PAIN, YOU HIT ME THE SAME. I’M BITING MY LIPS THROUGH THE SCREAMS I DON’T SHOW. YOU’RE KILLING ME SLOWLY, FROM THE INSIDE — LET ME GO.

Verse 2 Tried to stand up, world snapped in half, Vision went blurry, I laughed at that. You bend me forward, drag me down, Like I did something wrong just by existing now.

No witnesses, no one to blame, Just me and you in this private cage. You don’t care if I beg or plead, You feed on my weakness, you live in me.

Pre-Chorus Every breath Is a gamble now, Every step Feels like I’m going down. (Down, down, down…)

Chorus YOU’RE RIPPING ME OPEN, I’M LOSING CONTROL, A RIOT TEARING THROUGH MY CORE, NO SAFE WAY HOME. CALL IT LOVE, CALL IT PAIN, YOU HIT ME JUST THE SAME. I’M BITING MY LIPS THROUGH THE SCREAMS I DON’T SHOW. YOU’RE KILLING ME SLOWLY, FROM THE INSIDE — LET ME GO!!!

Breakdown I SHOULD’VE KNOWN, I SHOULD’VE KNOWN, SOME THINGS ARE BETTER LEFT ALONE. ONE BAD CHOICE, ONE LAST BITE, NOW I’M PAYING FOR IT ALL NIGHT.

Bridge (half-time, raw) I don’t need your forgiveness, I don’t need the truth, I just need a moment Where I’m not fighting you.

Final Chorus (scream/sing) YOU’RE RIPPING ME OPEN, I’M LOSING CONTROL, THIS ISN’T HEARTBREAK — IT’S BREAKING MY CORE. CALL IT LOVE, CALL IT PAIN, YOU HIT ME THE SAME. I’M CURLED ON THE FLOOR, TRYING NOT TO EXPLODE. YOU’RE KILLING ME SLOWLY, FROM THE INSIDE — OUT.

Outro Dawn creeps in, I’m still alive, Barely breathing, but I survived. You didn’t break me, you tried hard, though. I’m on my knees, begging you to go.

Feedback didn’t take long to arrive. It was Ryota, the drummer, who replied first.

Another song for that whore? This is bullshit and you woke me up for this?

Kazuki stared at the screen, the words burning into his eyes as he typed the asnwer.

Calm down R it wasn’t like that This has nothing to do with my love life

Followed by a crude

Wtf bro what is it then? Seems pretty clear to me that you are not over it yet

Kazuki's fingers hovered over the reply box, but the words didn’t form. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Another notification came in. From Itsuki, the guitarist.

Don’t worry Kazu. R-kun is just jealous of your love life It’s public knowledge you’ve got terrible taste in women 💔 And even worse in men 🍆💀

With a smirk on his face, Kazuki flicked the middle finger emoji in the group chat and tossed the phone aside, laughing under his breath. The pain in his stomach stroke again, exactly as the song described. Kazuki took a slow drag off his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as if it could blow his stomachache away. After one last hit, he crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray and sank back into the sheets, arms tightly wrapped around his aching stomach. Finally time to get some rest.

[kickmyguts95]

Hiro had no choice but to work from home on Thursday. Normally, if he wasn't commuting to the office, he would spend his mornings working at a cosy coffee shop near his apartment, but that day it was closed due to unforeseen circumstances. Hiro couldn’t be bothered to search for another spot that might not meet his needs and expectations, so he turned back home. It felt odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a weekday trapped between those thin walls.

It took him a moment to readjust to the hum of his neighbourhood on a day that wasn’t part of a weekend or public holiday. The sounds that usually faded into the background—birds chirping, cars honking, distant voices—became more pronounced now that he required concentration. Front doors slamming shut, children crying as they headed to school, bicycle bells ringing with frustration, traffic. It all blended together, at first jarring, then familiar, until Hiro got used to them and barely noticed anything, the noises fading out as he focused on his work.

That was until his upstairs neighbour suddenly disrupted the comforting silence. The thud of running feet, heavy with each step, echoed through the floor—his ceiling. Hiro startled, lifting his head from his screen. The noise lasted only a moment before it faded, and he returned his attention to his laptop.

But it happened again. A few minutes later, louder this time. And it wouldn't be the last one.

He'd run into his neighbour a few times since moving in—a younger guy, maybe in his mid-20s—pretty serious and responsible for his age. No unwanted noise late at night, no loud parties. Hiro hadn't actually noticed him at home until that very morning. But this was different. And Hiro finally realized how thin the walls were in that building.

It started again. Running feet and then his neighbour got sick. Violently sick. The sounds bled through the walls—gagging, coughing, and the unmistakable splatter of food, liquid, and bile hitting the toilet bowl. It was so loud and vivid it felt like Hiro was sharing the bathroom with him. The sounds of retching and spitting, followed by the flushing of a toilet, echoed again and again in the tranquillity of his own apartment.

It was relentless. Run, retch, repeat. The cycles continued until lunchtime.

That's when Hiro put his headphones on and played a podcast, cranking up the volume to drown out the sounds of his neighbour’s misery while he ate leftovers from the night before. He ate quickly, swallowing his food without much thinking, feeling a little too aware of what was going on upstairs despite not being able to hear a thing.

When Hiro finally returned to work, the noises upstairs hadn’t stopped. His neighbour was still struggling, and it was clear he wasn’t getting any better. He was having a loud phone conversation from the bathroom, complaining about his agony. And then it happened again. There were no warning footsteps this time. Just the noise of the phone dropping on the floor, quickly followed by another round of harsh, relentless vomiting.

[kickmyguts95]

It was his first time back in his hometown since moving to Tokyo for work. Nearly a year had passed since he’d left, and not a single visit had been made, as everyone seemed more eager to find an excuse to visit him in Tokyo. Yet, now that he was back, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

His parents were as lively as ever, their spirits as warm as they’d always been, and they had kept his childhood room frozen in time. The furniture, the bedding, the posters and photographs still hanging on the walls as if he hadn’t left. Even the toilet seat was still as pristine and welcoming as he remembered.

He had lost count of how many times he’d run back to that same toilet that night. Dawn was just beginning to break on the horizon, casting a pale light through the window. This had to be his fourth or fifth trip to the toilet. His stomach was still punishing him for last night’s dinner, cramping with no mercy and demanding frequent releases of its half-digested contents. Forcing him to double over the toilet bowl again and again, on his knees begging for mercy, clutching his stomach as he prayed for his misery to stop.

As he dragged himself back to bed, another wave of pain hit him. A pain that was sharp, unforgiving, a cruel reminder of his own helplessness.

“Look at you—just bones, Kento,” his mom had said when she first saw him, her voice heavy with concern. “Are you living on instant noodles and discounted bento boxes, like you’re still in university?”

Her words had triggered something in him, the need to prove something, even if it was just to her. So he’d eaten dinner until every last dish was gone, indulging in all the foods he’d loved growing up in that house. He hadn’t been able to stop himself.

And now, the regrets were unbearably painful. The stomach ache kicked in shortly after having dessert. Using his exhaustion from the long journey as a poor excuse to explain his early retreat from the dinner table, he went to his old bedroom and curled into a ball on the bed—the same bed that had once offered him comfort during countless stomach aches, now strangely unfamiliar to him.

[kickmyguts95]

He had been cursed. There was no other explanation.

His body had technically been dead for nearly a century—a vessel, nothing more, preserved in a state of eternal youth. It did not age. It did not change. It did not work. And his stomach was not supposed to hurt.

And yet there he was, in the middle of the night, standing in front of the medicine shelves of a convenience store, his stomach twisting in sharp, insistent pain.

Tsubaki stared at the rows of colourful boxes, each promising relief with cheerful fonts and smiling cartoon organs. He had grown up on home remedies and the occasional visit to the chemist. This... this belonged to a world he had left behind decades ago, a world he had never expected to re-enter so he never caught up with progress. Would any of these modern remedies work against an ancient curse? The cartoony stomachs blinking at him from the cardboard boxes did not seem to understand the weight of dark magic. Still, desperation was very convincing and forced him to lower his standards. He reached for the box advertised as the strongest, the most effective, and dropped it into his basket.

The queue felt longer than his human life had been. Tsubaki was surrounded by youngsters carrying drinks and snacks, pretending to be old enough to buy cigarettes. He stood among them like a ghost. One hand holding the basket, the other pressed firmly against his aching stomach, trying to hold the pain in place.

Near the counter, a small section catered to tourists caught his eye: magnets, postcards, cheap lucky charms. Without quite knowing why, he reached out and grabbed one meant for good health, tossing it into the basket.

At last, his turn came.

“Do you need a bag?” the cashier asked, scanning the items with practiced indifference.

“I’m good.”

He left the store almost eleven hundred yen poorer and holding the charm against his stomach as he walked back into the night, hoping it would work faster than the pills. But fearing what it would mean if neither did.

[kickmyguts95]

It could’ve been jetlag. Most likely something dodgy he ate on the flight. But whatever it was, the stomachache was keeping Gin awake. The bedside alarm clock blinked 3:00 AM in neon red. He groaned and got up, still wearing the same clothes he had worn for the last 24 hours, the cool air from the open window brushing his face. The city outside was alive, glowing with lights, and Gin realized he wasn’t the only one awake in Osaka at this hour.

He sat in bed and grabbed the bedside phone, his fingers numb and sluggish. His own phone was dead, buried in the back pocket of his jeans. Not that it mattered—Akito would’ve ignored the call anyway.

One. Two. Three rings. By the fifth, Akito finally groaned through the receiver.

"Who is this?" His voice was thick with sleep and irritation.

"Are you awake?" Gin asked, his voice strained.

"Am I... What the hell? Well, yeah, I am now. Why are you awake?"

"I can’t sleep."

"I can see that."

"My tummy hurts," Gin said.

"Your tummy?" Akito sounded incredulous. "How old are you, eight?"

"It hurts real bad," Gin complained, his voice turning soft and whiny, almost childish. "Make it stop."

Akito sighed heavily on the other end. "I’ll make it stop with a punch to your guts if you don’t go back to sleep."

"Why are you so mean, Aki-kun?" Gin pouted.

"Drop the ‘kun’, will you? How old are you, again?"

Gin hesitated for a moment, a grin creeping across his face despite the pain. "Come over…" he started, but the line went dead.

Gin stared at the receiver in his hand, feeling the absence of Akito’s presence almost physically hurting. He sank back into the bed, eyes closed, rubbing his aching stomach softly as though he could soothe it with the same gentleness he imagined Akito would offer if he were next to him.

For a moment, he let himself believe it was in fact Aki-kun’s hand on his stomach, trying to comfort him. And, before he knew it, he fell asleep.

[kickmyguts95]

The night before, Kaito had thought his graduation day couldn’t get any more humiliating. That morning, his stomach was about to prove him wrong. 

Showing up to his graduation ceremony in a maid costume—a lost bet his university friends weren't willing to forget—was bad enough, but waking up with a full-blown abdominal hangover wasn’t doing him any favours. He’d already sprinted to the toilet twice before even leaving his friend’s apartment. The first time, the moment he woke up—quite literally, as it was the desperate need to sit on the toilet that dragged him out of bed. The second time came while he was getting dressed.

He hid his visibly swollen stomach beneath the bulky dress. Ridiculous as it looked, it was surprisingly comfortable; at least his belly could expand freely, without any unwanted pressure. That moment of peace didn’t last long. His friend tied the apron’s ribbon belt snugly around his waist, and the sudden squeeze made Kaito's stomach churn. The wave of nausea hit so fast he barely managed to put a hand over his mouth, run for his life and drop to his knees in front of the toilet seat. And yet, feeling miserable as he emptied the contents of his aching stomach, the only idea crossing his mind was that he could’ve ruined the dress right then and there if he had reacted any slower. And, as ridiculous as the dress was, he felt terribly sad.

Still, it was his graduation day. A simple stomachache wasn’t going to ruin it. Only… this was no simple stomachache. His guts ached like never before—unsurprising, considering he’d eaten and drunk like never before—and he had no idea which end of his body was going to demand relief next. Every quiet burp tasted faintly of sickness. Every fart was a game of Russian roulette, and the chamber felt fully loaded.

"Are you sure you are ok?", his friend asked before leaving.

Kaito nodded, although his stomach was still aching. He sighed in discomfort as he stuffed his pockets with medicine and prayed it would do its job. He could handle the pain, sort of. What he couldn’t handle was the thought of being caught on camera, standing on stage in a stupid maid outfit, accepting his diploma—and failing spectacularly to keep his insides where they belonged.

[kickmyguts95]

365 days in a year. Most of them were ordinary, uneventful—just another dose of the same mundane routine. Absolutely forgettable. His stomach could’ve chosen any of those days to turn on him. But no, it had to be this day. The day they were heading to a music festival in Yokohama.

At first, Eigetsu thought it was just nerves—the excitement of the day catching up with him, the weight of the upcoming adventure. But then the pain hit. Mild at first, easy to ignore. But by mid-afternoon, it was worse. Waves of sharp, sickening twists deep in his stomach—like a fist tightening around his gut, squeezing, pulling, until his stomach was a raw, aching mass.

Aoi had secured VIP tickets for all five of them through someone he knew from university. Although they'd still have to fight for first row, they’d be close enough to feel the pulse of the music, the drums beating in their chests.

But Eigetsu wasn’t there to share the experience with his friends. His body was elsewhere, locked in excruciating pain in a portable, plastic toilet at the back of the VIP area for the majority of the event.

The seat was cold, sticky, filthy and Eigetsu barely had time to cover it in a thick layer of tissue paper before collapsing on it, gasping for breath as the pain struck him again, sharper this time. It felt like his intestines were being torn apart, raw and liquid, pushing everything inside him to the surface of the toilet bowl.

The cramps were savage, cold sweat dripping from his temples as his body twisted in agony.

When Eigetsu thought he was done and the pain finally calmed down, it was only for a brief moment. As he was making his way back to his friends, his stomach churned again. He felt another wave coming, faster this time. Instead of joining the crowd that lead to the stage, he joined the queue for the toilets again. He squatted down while he waited impatiently, his arms wrapped around his aching abdomen, as if the simply gesture could force the pain to stop.

The pain didn’t stop for a while.

The festival went on for a few more hours. The music throbbed outside the portable toilet. But Eigetsu couldn’t hear a thing. Just a distant beat, overpowered by the screams of his own intestines and the waves of explosive diarrhea splashing the toilet bowl.

[kickmyguts95]

It came up in the breakroom every sigle day, a concept Ichiro could never quite shake off. He was fascinated by it. He ran a search on his phone and followed that account almost instantly, equally amazed and repulsed by the quality of its content. Office workers, partygoers, tourists who’d had one too many drinks, losing all control and dignity. Passed out in public, using every corner of the neighbourhood as an improvised toilet—sometimes even their own clothes served as toilets—, judged, and even vandalized, by random passers-by. It was the kind of show that became infamously viral, a combination of chaos and humiliation, funny in a twisted way.

Ichiro had always been a bystander to it all during his nights out. He knew his limits, kept track of his companions, and usually played the responsible one—the boring one, to some of his co-workers. But that morning, for reasons his pounding headache refused to let him remember, all his dignity had been flushed down the toilet (or, more accurately as displayed on the photographic evidence in front of his eyes, down a half-open manhole), along with the contents of his stomach. His face had made its way into one of the latest posts from that infamous account. Despite the odd angle, it was unmistakably him.

His stomach churned. Partly from the brutal hangover still clinging to him from last night, and partly from the soul-crushing embarrassment of seeing himself at his worse across the Internet. He ran to the toilet, thinking he might get sick again. The thought of stepping into the office in a couple of hours made his stomach twist again, the idea of facing his colleagues seemed unbearable. Two of them had already left comments. “What happens at the nomikai won’t stay at the nomikai this time. Can't wait to share the news with everybody” one had joked, and Ichiro couldn’t decide whether it was worse that they were joking or that they were enjoying the aftermath of boring Ichiro from Accounts going wild for once.

[kickmyguts95]

That Friday, Takayuki was working the night shift.

He loved the night shift. He had grown fond of the hospital’s eerie calm, the corridors almost as silent as a graveyard. Empty waiting rooms, no telephone appointments, no trace of the overwhelming constant flow of visitors. Just peace and quiet and plenty of downtime to spend on his research. And his side job as a blood dealer for his fellow vampire friends.

Takayuki sat before the computer, ready to dive back into work after a quick cigarette break. His phone rang before he’d even finished typing his password. He frowned, irritation taking control of his features. He didn’t need to glance at the screen to know who it was. He had set Toxic by Britney Spears as his ringtone for a reason: its insistent, irritating charm was as impossible to ignore as the caller was. Takayuki took a deep breath and hesitated for a split second before answering.

On the other end, an agitated voice jumped straight to the point, almost shouting

"Taka sensei, what took you so long? I desperately need yout help!"

“Good night to you too, Shion." He replied, calmly "I was under the impression my request that you refrain from calling me during my hours of work required no further clarification.”

"You said to stop calling if it wasn't an emergency. This is a fucking emergency"

“Have you already exhausted your provisions?”

"Are you out of your mind? I stocked up just yesterday"

“Then what emergency could justify such urgency? Have you damaged your fangs?”

"Cut it off, will you? This is serious."

“Very well, then. What is the matter?”

Shion took his time responding, letting loud moans of discomfort linger in the stretching silence.

"Can we get food poisoning?"

"How would you define food?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course fresh blood, pumped directly into my mouth from a human carotid."

“Mmm… I understand. Perhaps... Might I ask what it was this human ate for supper?"

"How should I know? We matched on Fangder and I asked her to meet me at that underground bar in Roppongi"

"So it is a lady, on this occasion. "

"So what? You know I don't care about what's between their legs as long as they are B negative."

"Perhaps it is time that you lower your standards, my friend"

"Fuck you, sensei. I'd rather starve than survive solely on your watered down A+ supplies"

“Very well… then, what was the lady's choice of beverage?”

"Nothing suspicious, I guess. Since that place is vampire friendly and they have a strict cross-contamination policy in place I didn't really care"

"Ah, Shion, as reckless as usual. There must be something more. Think carefully"

"Listen sensei, all I know is that when we were leaving I took her to a dark alley, I fucked her, I drained her a little and now that I'm back home my stomach hurts like hell" Shion stopped for a second to catch his breath. His stomach twisted again and his free hand instinctively pressed his abdomen, trying to ease the growing discomfort. "Are you gonna use your knowledge in Medicine to make it stop or are you gonna make me beg?"

“On a scale from one to ten, how severe would you say the pain is?”

"I don't know, I haven't had a stomachache in 10 years. Where does pretty unbearable rank?"

"As dramatic as always for a mere one."

"I don't care if you are two hundred years older than me, Taka sensei. I'll punch you in the face if I survive the night, I swear."

"You shall be quite all right. I presume these are the side effects of mere traces of garlic. Hardly lethal, though they must be purged from your system. You may force it out or let nature run its course, the choice is yours. Either way I fear it shall not be a pleasant night for you, Shion. Have you got a decent stock of toilet paper at home?"

"Why would I? I've only used the toilet seat twice in the last decade as a stool to paint the ceiling after I accidentally splattered blood all over it, remember?"

Takayuki laughed. Then the line went silent for a few seconds. Shion’s stomach twisted violently again, each gurgle of his insides sounding impossibly loud against the quiet in his apartment.

"Taka sensei? Are you still there? I'm agonizing here."

"Check your telephone, I am sending you a photograph. Secure that medication, and most importantly a generous supply of toilet paper from the nearest convenience store."

Shion briefly looked at the screen.

"What the hell is this shit?"

"Laxative pills. I would strongly advise against swallowing them with holy water, unless you wish to risk an ulcer. And that shall be much worse than a pretty unbearable stomachache"

[kickmyguts95]

There are many firsts in life. Some fade into the void of early childhood, lost forever in the haze of forgotten years. If they were significant enough, they might survive as blurry images in old family photos or as stories retold during holiday gatherings. Others remain sharp, vivid, in full color. For Hakaru, one such memory was his first stomachache.

He’d felt pain before—scraped knees from falling off his bike, bruises from schoolyard fights, the sting of a scolding from his parents—but nothing like this. This pain was different. It wasn’t just discomfort. It was his body rebelling against itself, trying to destroy him from the inside out. That’s what it felt like.

It had him curled up in the hallway, writhing in agony, spitting his breakfast into the toilet, missing school, and eventually heading to the pediatric clinic down the street. That pain, sharp and intermittent, marked him forever.

More than twenty years later, Hakaru walked to the toilet hunched over in the middle of the afternoon, his back arched, hands pressed tightly against his stomach through the loose fabric of his tshirt. The pain was just as unbearable as it had been when he was a child—then, he had thought it was the end, that he was facing the kind of death all adults feared. Now, in the silence of his apartment, he felt just as weak and miserable, caught in that same terrifying moment of helplessness.

[kickmyguts95]

“I’ve run out of cigarettes,” Yuichi announced as the microphone was passed to him. “I’m going to the kombini, be back in a sec.” "My turn." Tanaka, half-drunk, grabbed the mic and picked a song without a second thought. Yuichi seized the opportunity, and before anyone could stop him, he stood up, grabbed his sweater, and headed for the door. Yamada’s drunken hollers echoed down the corridor.

The moment Yuichi stepped out of the karaoke room, his expression shifted. It was drastic enough that, if caught on camera, he might have seemed like a completely different person. His smile twisted into a half-smirk, teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached. His eyes shut in pain. His left hand slipped into his pocket, while his right hand instinctively reached for his bloated, aching stomach. He rubbed and pressed gently, trying to ease the discomfort as he walked toward the elevator.

Once inside, alone, he wrapped both arms around his abdomen, doubled over in pain. He nearly squatted to the floor, barely holding himself upright. It was bad—really bad. But what made it worse was the need to hide it from everyone, not willing to ruin his best friend Shigeru’s 20th birthday party.

Before heading to the convenience store, Yuichi made his way to the first-floor restroom, near the reception area. He stood in front of the toilet bowl, grimacing, before shoving his fingers down his throat, desperately trying to force the vomit his body was screaming for. His stomach settled for a moment, but the relief was brief. The pain was creeping back almost immediately.

He didn't take long at the store. He grabbed what he needed, paid and turned to leave, but he bumped straight into Shigeru as the door slid open.

“So, this is it,” Shigeru said, pointing at the stomach medicine in Yuichi's hand. “You alright? You’ve had me worried sick.” “Did you notice?” Yuichi asked, his voice flat. “Of course I did. You’ve been acting off since we got here. And the full pack of cigarettes sticking out of your back pocket was a dead giveaway.”

Yuichi sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin your night.” “You could never,” Shigeru reassured him. “But seriously, are you okay?” “Yeah… just a stomach ache,” Yuichi muttered.

They stood outside the store, sharing a cigarette by the vending machines. The silence stretched for a moment before Shigeru spoke again.

“You know, for a second, I thought something else was bothering you.” “Like what?” “I can’t even say it out loud. It sounds stupid just thinking about it.” “Don’t be an idiot. Just say it.”

Shigeru hesitated before finally blurting out, “I… thought you were jealous.”

Yuichi nearly choked on the smoke. “Jealous?” “Yeah, you know… some people from uni are here, and that girl, Yoshida, she’s been kind of clingy tonight…” “Do you like her?” “Hell no.” “Good. Then there’s no reason for me to be jealous.” “Not at all. Wait, what? What do you mean by that? Hey, Yuichi, say that again!” Yuichi shook his head, still reeling from the conversation, and quietly muttered “Forget it. I can’t say it out loud. It sounds stupid just thinking about it”

[kickmyguts95]

《EXTRA POST: VALENTINE'S SPECIAL》

Shinjiro didn't taste it when he ate the chocolates. The effort, the thought put into them, the feelings, the emotions, neither of them mixed up with the ingredients, making those homemade chocolates the most delicious sweets he had ever tried. It just wasn't there. He look at his phone again, her text read but still unanswered.

Have you tried them already? 🍫🍫🍫 What are your thoughts?🤭

Was she talking about the chocolates? They were nice, sure, but he couldn’t taste it. The taste was... forgettable. But he couldn't tell her that. Or was there something else she wanted from him? A subtle request for White Day to be more than just a polite exchange of gifts? Was she expecting an invitation to go on a date? Sure, a date wouldn’t hurt. He’d take her out, show some gratitude, maybe have a good time, but... commitment? That wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t ready for that. Definitely not with her. She wasn't that pretty. But he couldn't tell her that either. 

He blindly grabbed another chocolate from the box. Perfectly shaped as a love heart, shiny white chocolate covering it. He popped it in his mouth and it melted almost instantly, releasing a creamy hazelnut filling that left a strange aftertaste. Perhaps some sort of liquor? It was good, but nothing else. No trace of the care she had put into making them. The thought, the effort, the feelings, the emotion... he tasted nothing.

He shook his head. He must have been overthinking it. Maybe these were just store-bought, and she wouldn't admit it. That was the kind of girl she was, after all. A people pleaser, friends to all. But... no. It couldn’t just be that. Not the way she had looked at him when she handed them over. There was something more in those eyes. But what? They hadn't spoken in ages, it wasn't easy to tell.

Before he could spiral into another round of intrusive thoughts, he left for his room to do his homework. He sat at the desk still in his school uniform, occasionally snacking on those chocolates. A few minutes into his study session, Shinjiro felt a sudden pressure in his lower abdomen. He ignored it at first, but the ache quickly intensified. He had eaten half the box at that point, not even really savoring the last few chocolates, just chewing, swallowing, repeating. But those were only a mere handful of chocolates, not enough to make him sick. Not that sick. The pain only grew sharper, more insistent. Then, it hit him.

Shinjiro couldn’t taste it, but he could definitely feel it. The effort, the thought, the emotions, the feelings. They were twisting his insides, crashing into him all at once. A vengeful reminder of how much he'd ignored her since the first year of high school.

He barely made it to the toilet, his stomach cramping violently, his intestines demanding immediate release. He barely felt the cold tiled floor beneath his bare feet as he collapsed onto the toilet seat, clutching his abdomen. He spent what felt like an eternity in the bathroom. He couldn’t even think, he could just suffer, deal with the worst diarrhoea attack he'd ever had, which was making every other stomachache he'd suffered seem like a game of tickles.

“Oi, Shin! You’ve been in there for nearly an hour. Are you having a Valentine's date with yourself or something?” his older brother teased from outside the bathroom. "Hurry up, dinner's ready"

But then the door opened from the inside, and the humor died the moment he saw Shinjiro hunched over, a pale, sweat-drenched wreck.

“You look like shit! Are you okay?”

“My stomach’s fucked,” Shinjiro whispered, his voice barely audible. His fingers dug deeper into his abdomen, as if he could press the pain away.

Shinjiro moved past his brother like a ghost reaching for his room, changed into loungewear, and collapsed on the bed. Not even ten minutes passed before he was dragging himself back to the bathroom, arms wrapped around his aching abdomen and cold sweat dripping from his forehead as he fought the urge to relieve himself right then and there.

He spent another eternity in the bathroom, having his family worried sick as he missed dinner. He sat there in agony, pressing his hands harder and harder against his abdomen, as if squeezing the last bits of those chocolates out of his system could end his misery once and for all.

He was still sitting on the toilet when he received a notification on his phone. He barely noticed the sound at first, until the screen lit up repeatedly, notification after notification. He’d been added to a group chat with his friends from the baseball team and some other guys from high school.

And her.

💕💌 Happy Valentine's Day! 💌💕 I hope you all have a shitty night, assholes 🖕🏻

The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. Shinjiro let out a bitter laugh, his free hand rubbing his belly. Was this what she meant, then? Was this the taste he hadn’t been able to recognize, her sweet revenge?

He set his phone aside on the floor and sank back onto the toilet seat, doubled over at the waist. The night had only started and it was going to be a long one, considering the effort, the thought, the feelings and the emotions she had put into those chocolates.

[kickmyguts95]

Tetsuji couldn’t believe his luck. She hadn’t rejected him. He spotted her from afar, standing out in the rush-hour crowd with her unique, cool style and her foreign features. She was slightly older, but there was something magnetic about her, an attraction he couldn’t resist. So, he gathered his courage, approached her, exchanged numbers, and texted her the moment they parted ways, asking if she wanted to meet again.

And to his surprise, she replied almost instantly, suggesting they meet that very evening. Time wasn’t something she wanted to waste; after all, she wouldn’t be in the country for long.

Tetsuji couldn’t believe his luck as they spent the evening strolling the streets of Tokyo, the crisp autumn air cooling the heat that kept building between them. He couldn’t believe his luck when, without a word, she grabbed his wrist and led him toward the nearest train station. There, they kissed for the first time.

“This is not a goodbye kiss,” she whispered.

And he understood immediately.

Tetsuji couldn’t believe his luck as more kisses followed, as their clothes fell away like autumn leaves swept by the wind in her hotel room, as they reached the bed, and he finally tasted that forbidden, foreign fruit.

Tetsuji couldn’t believe his luck when he woke up beside her, realizing it hadn’t all been a dream.

But that was where his luck stretched to its limit—until 7 in the morning. From that moment on, he was sitting up in the bed they’d shared so passionately, his body burning with discomfort. His stomach was in pure agony, an unbearable pain that seemed to grow worse with each passing second.

His eyes were wide open, but sleep wouldn’t come. He fought the urge to shift positions, desperate for any kind of comfort, trying to keep his groans of pain as quiet as possible so as not to wake her and let her see him in such a pitiful, undesirable state—sweating, pale, with his stomach cramping as if it were about to tear him apart, his body arched awkwardly in an attempt to find relief.

[kickmyguts95]

Reiji caught the scent from a distance as he left his apartment, its fragance so rare it almost felt like it was just his imagination playing twisted games. He’d read about it on vampire forums—how its metallic notes lingered on the tongue, over the lips, between the teeth, for hours. They said it didn't taste just like blood, it was a poem written for the mouth. They said it was like chewing on a rose with iron thorns. It was delicious, exquisite, addictive… and impossibly expensive in the underground blood market. So when fate finally gave Reiji the chance to taste it for free, his primeval insticts kicked in.

And these faceless vampires from the forums were almost right. It was everything they claimed: delicious, exquisite, addictive. But one thing they couldn't know was that Reiji would be intolerant to it, an unfortunate curse he learned the hard way.

Reiji was lucky enough to find one near his neighbourhood, so he didn't expect much of it. He definitely hadn’t expected the blood to come in such a premium vessel. Drawn by the irresistible fragrance, he followed its scent like a hunter tracks its prey, eagerly anticipating the taste he’d long fantasized about. But when he finally reached the source of the AB-negative elixir, his expectations were shattered in the most unexpected, delicious way. 

The man who carried this precious blood was as stunning on the outside as he was dangerously tempting on the inside. He had the kind of beauty one could see on the billboards of Kabukicho—delicate, playful, stylish. Dangerously addictive in every sense of the word.

Reiji cancelled his plans for the night and followed the man for a full 45 minutes. It was an easy task in the calm streets of their merely residential neighbourhood, blending with the shadows, keeping a careful distance while never letting the scent slip too far from him. It became a more tedious task once they boarded the train, the man’s fragrance dulled beneath the mundane blend of A+ and O+ that saturated the carriage. Still, Reiji endured the agonizing ride. It was worth every second when he watched the man step off in Shinjuku, walk towards Ni-chōme and disappear into a bar. There, at last, Reiji knew he stood a chance to have both starters and main for dinner.

Less than an hour later, they were checking into a love hotel nearby. Not the fanciest, but the closest, and time was all that mattered when thirst—of any kind—set the rules. Reiji played the gentleman flawlessly, indulging the man’s desires first, making sure his last would be remembered as his best in the afterlife—if there was such a thing. And when they were done, the man collapsed onto the wavering water mattress, breathless and flustered, covered in sweat after riding Reiji. But Reiji didn’t stop. Reiji was just getting started.

"Wait... you wanna go again? Now?"

The answer came in the form of soft kisses that traced the curve of his neck, each one laced with temptation. And once the man was under his spell, Reiji let his mask slip away. His fangs sank into the warm flesh, and at last he tasted it. Drunk on the scent of such a potent elixir, Reiji became ravenous. He effortlessly pinned the man down under his body. He covered the man’s mouth and nose, held him there, and pressed close until the man stopped fighting, lying beneath him like an inflatable doll, pulse weak but steady. Only then did Reiji calm down. He sucked and drank with care, savoring each sip, his tongue tracing the wound to gather every precious drop that escaped from the bite marks.

It was everything those vampires had claimed it would be. It was delicious, exquisite, addictive. It was intoxicating. 

And suddenly, the unexpected happened. Reiji jumped out of bed in absolute misery, the kind of pain he hadn't felt since his heart stopped beating. Over the last few years as a vampire, he had endured pain. A different kind of pain: the sting of holy water, the slash of blades, the deathly kisses of sunlight. Those were external, superficial, expected for someone of his nature. But this... this pain came from within, and it felt terrifyingly unnatural. His stomach was hurting, each cramp sharp and wild, as if it had its own mind and was tearing him from the inside. As if it was digging its escape route with claws and teeth, ripping him apart. 

Reiji fell on his knees, clutching his aching stomach as he doubled over at the waist. The wave of pain surged so quickly and violently, ending in an overwhelming, uncontrollable nausea, that it caught him off guard. Before he could even think about it, he was gagging and retching, and a puddle of blood spilled before his eyes, staining the carpet. That was the beginning of an hour of misery for Reiji, hunched over the toilet, spitting his bloody insides until his stomach settled a little, enough for him to crawl back to bed and get some rest.

Reiji woke before dawn, his stomach still aching. The worst of the nausea had passed, and he used that precious moment of calm to dress quickly and slip out before the sun could rise. Before leaving, he shifted the furniture with his inhuman strength, carefully concealing the stains of last night’s excess.

“Can I see you again?” the man asked from the bed when Reiji opened the door.

Reiji nodded softly and laughed at the bitter irony of it all. He had been blessed with a free source of the most exquisite AB-negative blood... and cursed with a rare intolerance among his kind.