are u in my head ! this has been the scenario recently 🤤
okay but whumpee burping loudly and violently, caretaker brushing it off as whumpee eating too much, drinking too much, etc. but then whumpee lets out a slurry of half digested, hot, thick vom all over themselves
Something about throwing up in bed just makes me go feral,, someone not making it to a meeting or something else in the morning, so a teammate or friend checks on them and they're fast asleep on their side with a pool of vomit on their sheets </3
i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.
he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.
he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.
“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.
“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.
the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.
he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.
he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.
you hear him start to retch.
you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.
“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”
this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.
been thinking of this... so I'm coming back to add:
you bring them some water and a wet cloth for their head. they gulp down the water, making slurping and sloshing noises. you don't think they've gotten up all day. you fix the blankets and make sure they're cozy. sickie starts moving uncomfortably, and they puke a giant gush of water onto the floor.
you get home and find ur love in bed, in the same spot they were when you left. but its been so long?? you've been gone all day?? they're sleeping so soundly, so it must be a nap. you get under the covers with them to softly wake them up and surprise them with you being home. but when you go to run ur fingers through their hair, their forehead is burning. restless under ur touch, they wake up and tell you they don't feel good. it wasn't a nap, they had been there all day.
Caretaker gently touching whumpees thigh under the table, letting them know that their discomfort isn’t being ignored
Caretaker holding onto whumpees bicep, keeping them steady under the guise of a meaningless touch
Caretaker rubbing small circles on whumpees back as they cough or get sick, giving them a bit of comfort through the violence of their illness
Caretaker playing with whumpees sweaty hair, feeling their fever-warm skin and holding them close
Caretaker whispering small words of encouragement, little “shh”s and “it’s okay, it’s okay”s under their breath as whumpee cries, because they just don’t feel well
Whumpee collapsing into caretakers arms as they sob, because they’ve never felt this loved through such small actions
Imagine a senecio where A is trying to sleep but B keeps tossing and turning. Eventually A has enough and sits up to tell B off but B also sits up and suddenly projectile vomits all over the bed.
i've used ai to my advantage. the b i n g image creator is emetophilia friendly (sometimes) if you really work w it!!!!!and the images i've gotten are soOoOooOOOOoooo good i really want to share them
ill put some carefully curated ones under the cut 😋
"a sick guy with long hair throws up. he is comfortable and warm under blankets in a warm-lit room."
imagine them projectile vomiting onto the closed bathroom door 🥺 they really tried to make it but didn't expect it to be closed. maybe it's the middle of the night and they couldn't see. they're humiliated and don't want to wake their partner, but they feel really bad and it's more than they can take.
A is getting their temperature checked by B. Their gaze is unfocused, their posture slumped as they huddle in on themself, trying to fend off the fever chills running painfully up their limbs. B approaches gently, temporal thermometer in hand.
"Look at me, baby," they murmur, tilting A's chin up.
They keep their hand on A's chin, steadying A's head, and slowly glide the thermometer from temple to temple.
The angle widens A's fever-bright eyes and though they shudder under the thermometer's cold kiss, they don't look away.
B meets their gaze and smiles, just a little.
Neither one of them speaks, so the thermometer does it for them. B looks away to check the numbers and A's chin dips again, released back to the misery of their illness.
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