Tumgik
#overindulgence
librafeedee · 6 months
Text
Overindulgent weekend ☑️
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
341 notes · View notes
nightmare0prince · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
The full version of big Loki 😳😈
25 notes · View notes
honeybelly · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
Didn’t realize I ate half the pack until I looked down 😳
129 notes · View notes
softness-men · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
The incredibly handsome actor Louis Garrel is figuring out that he may slow down on the on-set snacks prepared by the catering. His abs are being covered by a cute layer of soft flab.
If only it was not just a dream... 
340 notes · View notes
Note
ok ill start by saying no problem if this takes a year!! you're clearly super busy + i will love reading all the fics that come before my ask hehehe. im on the dakota/blair bandwagon lately. for dakota, in a future fic could he stuff himself with a meal, but not drink enough water and have a very thick, dense problem on his hands when he finally starts puking forreal. blair could help him get it up, with rubs and words of encouragement? it makes me giddy to think about !! thats my request if you ever have time and if it sounds good. now off to read some more fiiic!!
Hello lovely Anon! I bet this legitimately took a year so I thank you for your immense patience. This is halloween themed because I wrote it way back in October lol 🧡
-----------------
Halloween fell on a Monday night that year, meaning Dakota and Blair acted like responsible adults by staying home. Work the next day meant they couldn’t spend the night at a party. Besides, most of their friends were pretending to be adults too, so there weren’t many parties being thrown in the first place. 
Dakota felt like a proper, boring middle-aged man as prepared to spend his night giving out candy. He sat on the porch, wearing fall gloves and a Halloween scarf. Candy corn danced across the scarf. It certainly was cold enough to justify the warm attire. Luckily, he could get away with a hoodie instead of a coat, so he was comfortable as he waited for children to walk up to the house. 
A bucket of chocolate bars and chips kept Dakota company. Though the candy couldn’t talk about its day, it was a decent substitute for his fiancée. Blair promised she would join him outside once she finished some extra work that she hadn’t been able to accomplish at the office. So, Dakota had to entertain himself with Kit Kats and mini bags of potato chips. It was relatively easy to forget his loneliness when his fingers were covered in Dorito Dust. He was in the middle of licking the cheesy residue off his fingers when Blair popped her head out the front door. 
“Hey! Those are for the kids,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. 
“What kids?” Dakota spread his arms out, gesturing to the quiet street. “I’ve been out here an hour, and so far I’ve seen a pirate, a banana, and a something from Minecraft.” 
“That’s it?” Blair stepped outside in her socks and crossed her arms over her chest to stay warm. She looked up and down the street. She could see one or two families making their way to each house. Many houses on the street were dark. It made her pout. “Where is everyone?” 
“I don’t think there’s many kids in our neighbourhood,” Dakota said around a mouthful of chocolate. The Mars bar he chewed on was nearly frozen. It gave his jaw a workout to simply bite down of the gooey thing. Blair saw him reaching for another piece of candy but didn’t say anything. Her shoulders dropped in defeat. 
“Sit with me,” Dakota requested, eyeing the empty chair next to him. “You gotta be done working now.” 
“I’m almost there.” 
“Well, maybe you should…” –he opened his hand to reveal a Kit Kat resting on his palm— “take a break.” 
Blair chuckled at him before swiping the chocolate bar from his hand. She bit the thing in half without breaking apart the sticks, you know, like a monster. 
Dakota gawked at her. “How could you—No, no, get out of my face.” He waved her away with an exaggerated flick of his wrist. “You disgust me.” 
“You’re a child.” Blair stuck her tongue out at him. It still had chocolate on it. And yes, she saw the irony perfectly well. Before going back inside, she turned around to say, “Oh, I’m also making food, so you don’t need to be snacking on candy.” 
“I can do what I want because I’m an adult.” He threw a candy wrapper at her. It landed two millimetres from his own foot. He just stared down at it, the sting of betrayal in his heart. Blair laughed at him and left him on his own again. 
Dakota still had a silly smile on his face when the next trick or treaters showed up. Finally, more kids! These two were dressed as dogs with shiny black makeup on their noses. Dakota was delighted to see that the parents had whiskers and patches drawn on their faces as well. He waited for the kids to say their line before dropping candy in their bags. The sad turnout this year made him overly generous. He gave them each two bags of chips and a handful of chocolate bars as opposed to the standard two. He finished by saying Merry Christmas, to which the kids giggled and corrected the silly man. 
And that was it for a while. Dakota went back to snacking because that was the only thing to do. The big box of chocolate they bought came with four different bars, so obviously he had to have one of each. Then two more. Then another two. Pretty soon the pocket of his hoodie was stuffed with candy wrappers. The chocolate made his mouth sticky, and the salty chips made him wish he brought his water bottle outside with him. Unfortunately, he was too lazy to get up, so he suffered with the taste of caramel on his tongue. Truly it was torture, but for some reason he plunged his hand back into the candy bowl. 
As promised, Blair finally joined him on the porch. He told her about the horrifying monsters and trendy video games characters that he encountered all by himself. He even had to resist the urge to run away when a bottle of ketchup came asking for candy. 
Blair glanced at the bowl. She was pleased to see it was significantly less full. “So, more people showed up then?” 
“Sure, let’s go with that,” Dakota mumbled after burping into his fist. God, if only there had been more trick or treaters, Dakota might not have felt so full just then. 
“You didn’t!” 
He looked down at his lap, knowing that far too many candy wrappers were shoved into his pockets. And far too many sweets were shoved into his belly. “I’m fine,” he insisted when Blair give a surprised look. 
“I know you’re fine. It’s the kids I’m worried about.” 
“There’s plenty more candy, Bee.” 
She crossed her arms but conceded because she knew he was right. There were more treats, yet less and less trick or treaters. 
Blair had almost settled into her chair, when she jumped up. “Oh pizza. I made pizza.” She looked back and forth at Dakota and the bowl of candy. “That is, if you’re still hungry.” 
“You think I’d say no to pizza?” 
So, they ate their pizza outside, hoping that more kids would show up. A few did and they got enough candy for the entire year. 
Of course, Dakota did not say no pizza, but he did have less slices than he normally would. Halfway through his third slice, he realized that he was unusually full from the sweets he had earlier. It was a challenge to swallow the last bite because his mouth was terribly dry and his belly was terribly stuffed with food. 
“Shoot, I forgot to bring out drinks,” Blair said, as if she were reading his mind. But the both of them were comfy and couldn’t bring themselves to stand. And anyway, a giant inflatable t-rex was walking up to them which understandably stole their attention. 
After wishing the t-rex a happy Halloween, Dakota let a burp rumble up from his chest. He’d been holding it in while they spoke to the kid and her family. He could feel the pressure building in his throat. When he finally released the burp, it came up gooey and thick. It was the type of burp that brought him dangerously close to barfing in his mouth. Dakota shivered as he swallowed acid.
“Wow,” Blair said in response to the deep belch. “You must have been holding that one in.” 
Dakota grimaced and rubbed his chest. “Didn’t want to be rude.” 
“Rude to the t-rex?” 
“The kid was standing right in front of me, what did you want me to do?” 
Another belch burst from his mouth, splashing the back of his tongue with the taste of tomato sauce and chocolate—a weird combination that made him shudder with nausea. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have eaten so much.” 
“Your stomach upset?” 
Dakota nodded. “Feels like a fucking brick.” He used his fingertips to press down onto his abdomen. It was bloated and noisy. Grumbles and whines emanated from his gut. 
The tightness became too much to bear, so he stood up. Hopefully, moving around would help his stomach digest the sticky mess faster. 
For the first time that night, Dakota was glad that there weren’t many people out trick or treating. It was getting too late for kids now anyways, so he was likely safe to burp without fearing that strangers were about to walk up to him. 
Oh, but he did more than burp. He groaned and whined as he paced nervously. This was bad; he hadn’t realized how full he was until he stood up. He felt the food in his stomach shift and tumble together like one big gooey ball. He kneaded his belly, hoping to coax a bubble of air out of his system. His stomach was rock hard beneath his hand. 
“Fuck, Bee, this really hurts.” Despite the cold air, sweat coated his brow. 
Blair stood with him, worried by this sudden development. “Are you going to be sick?” 
“I’d like to. I’m way too full right now.”
Dakota bent forward with his hands on his knees. He tried to force up more burps, hoping that would give his stomach the go-ahead to empty itself. He should have felt bad for wasting perfectly tasty candy, but all he felt was an intense need to relieve the ache. A grating sound gurgled in his throat as his belly spasmed. 
The organ gave a small heave, sending up thick saliva and a pathetic amount of sick. Dakota spat a thick glob onto the ground with a moan. An uncomfortable chill zipped down his spine when the horrendous texture touched his tongue. He could fell chunks of sick trying to come up his throat, but it wasn’t moving. He retched again, his back arching violently. Still nothing came up. 
“Baby, that sounds horrible,” Blair cooed, placing a hand on his back. “Just let it out.” 
“I can’t,” he groaned. “It won’t come up. I wish—” he sniffled. “—I wish there were more liquid in my stomach. You know, to get things moving.”
“I’ll get you some water.” She gave his back a firm pat before leaving. 
Dakota breathed deeply through his nose. For a moment, he entertained the idea of jumping to get things rolling but decided that was a stupid idea. It would surely give him heartburn on top of the nausea. He may have felt like a child who devoured too much candy, but what he said to Blair earlier was right; He was an adult and he just had to suffer through the pain. No jumping. Just wait. 
Luckily his patience paid off because a minute later, his stomach lurched on its own. 
A thick wave of vomit came rushing up his throat. He felt the chunks in his mouth for a second before the sick splattered at his feet. He was far from done. Another guttural retch tore up his throat. It was empty. Dakota huffed and hoped the next lurch would be productive. 
Blair came back with his water bottle just in time to see him choke up a mouthful of dense vomit. He had to spit it out because it wasn’t flowing on its own. She was surprised to see that there was already a sizeable puddle at his feet. 
He managed to take in a sharp inhale in between bouts, shooting a miserable look at his fiancée 
Blair pouted at him and began rubbing big circles on his back. “At least you’ll start feeling better now.” 
Dakota hugged his middle. “There’s more. I can feel it.” He winced and pressed his hand right below his rib. “Can you help me? Maybe rub my stomach?” 
“Chug this water first.” She handed him the bottle and watched his throat bob as he drank. He kept a hand on his bloated belly. 
A hearty belch burst from his mouth when he finished. Saliva dripped from his lips. 
“Here we go,” Blair said, gently placing both her hands on his stomach. She used the heel of her hand to massage the area. Her touch coaxed out another wet burp almost immediately. “Oh, that’s it. Lean forward.”  
Dakota put his hands on his knees again to get his stomach at a better angle. That, coupled with the fact that Blair applied the right amount pressure, meant that the next wave came up easily. It was wet and fell past his lips like a waterfall. 
“Yes, Kota. Get it all up. That’s it.” Blair somehow knew when to use a gentle touch and when to go firmer. With every move she made him feel a little bit better. She kept whispering by his ear, telling him that he was doing good. She could feel the tension in his back melt off his tired muscles. 
With one last heave, Dakota brought up everything in his stomach. The last remnants of chocolate and candy splattered into the impressive puddle that he made. 
Finally, he stood up straight, no longer feeling that uncomfortable fullness. His throat was raw, and his abs were on fire, but he was free of the pressure and the ache. 
He was not, however, free of the embarrassment that came with the overindulgence. He let out a long exhale and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I really needed that.” 
“I know.” Blair grinned at him. “You must be tired after that. Ready to get your jammies on and brush your teeth?” 
“Shut up. We must never speak of what happened on this frightful Hallows Eve.” 
“It’ll make a good cautionary tale. Kids need to know the dangers of too many sweets.” 
“And not enough hydration.” 
Blair shook her head at him. “That too.” She grabbed his arm and led him inside. “Seriously, how’s your stomach doing now?” 
“It hurts. Never underestimate the importance of drinking water.” 
She chuckled softly. “I’ll try to remember that next time you get your hands on candy.” 
88 notes · View notes
booking-glass-goddess · 5 months
Text
Pumpkin Vice: Part II
An Oliver Thompson Halloween Fic
CW: extensive descriptions of food, stuffing, and binging til sick; graphic depictions of illness; all of the bodily functions - everybody poops; cursing, but only a little: an overindulgent sickfic with lots of Ollie whump
I mention real products, movies, etc in the work below. Please keep in mind that apart from the names, this is a total work of fiction. I don't have any ties to any IRL person / place / thing and took creative liberties.
Story timeline: takes place during Halloween 2022, the same year as Dante's Halloween fic and the year before Oscar's Halloween fic.
-
“You gonna make it over there?” Deidre asked suspiciously. 
Ollie had been moving his pasta around for an hour, not really eating while helping their son color his huge Batman poster. TJ, on the other hand, was stuffing fries into his mouth by the handful, getting the grease from his purple boo-bucket all over the paper in front of him. 
“I got the bat one this year, dad! I can’t even believe it!” 
“Thank god,” his mother laughed. “All he talked about since seeing his cousin Tommy's bin was how he couldn’t get the ghost, or Frankenstein, or witch.” 
“It has to be bats, ‘cause it matches our costumes!” The five-year-old answered indignantly. 
Ollie just smiled and tousled his hair. “I totally get it, my dude.” 
“Why don’t you go wash your hands, if you’re done. It’s just about that time.” 
“To trick-or-treat!” He quickly stood and tried his best to walk, and not run, to the bathroom. 
“Don’t forget to use the toilet! There won’t be a bathroom until we get home!” 
Once she was sure that he’d be out of earshot, she turned back to her ex. “Earth to Ollie. You seem… I don’t know. Is everything okay?” 
“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry. Just ate way too much before dinner.”
“I’m gonna assume it was junk food,” she said with a know-it-all smirk. 
He sheepishly shrugged. “Oh, of course.” 
“I’m telling you, try the juice diet! Just do it once a month. A quick little reset. You’ll feel good as new.” She shook her orange smoothie in his general direction. 
“Does it come in pumpkin flavor? If so, I really should. Now I’m disgustingly full. And Ev warned me.” 
“Smart lady,” Deidre answered. “Really stubborn man, though. Even in pumpkin, you wouldn’t have budged. I know how you are with your pop tarts.” 
-
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Ollie said, mustering up his best mood. He handed a thermos to Deidre; mom juice for the road, which was really just expensive wine. As for him, he had a thermos full of pumpkin ale. Everyone was walking, and when Deidre left, a car would come to take her and TJ back home. 
Normally, Ollie would love “trick-or-drinking” and even sneak candy; one piece for each street. The munchies were real, and besides, artificial sugar wasn’t a thing either parent gave to their kid in abundance. If four or five pieces wound up in dad’s stomach, no one really cared. 
This time, however, he felt extra gross. He’d eaten so much that he had to keep hiding rancid, wet burps in the crook of his arm. Gulping down beer in between them wasn’t the brightest idea, but walking with Deidre was still kind of awkward, even though she was a friend. He figured with a little buzz, his tension would go and his gurgling guts would fade to the back of his mind. 
By street number three, he was openly belching and choosing to ignore the parents giving him weird looks. His armpits were damp and his hairline was shiny, both from perspiration. To top it all off, he’d developed a side-stitch, as though he’d just finished a workout or swam minutes after a meal. 
“Mom, hurry up! We have too many houses, and the moon is coming out!” TJ looked up nervously, hopping from one antsy foot to the other. He had a slight fear of the dark and he always kept a close watch on the sunset whenever he wasn’t at home. 
“Tell your dad!” Deirdre laughed. “He’s the slowpoke!” 
The five-year-old frowned. “Dad has a tummy ache, though. He’s usually fast all the other times. Like when he’s on the stage for his show.” 
“I think your dad’s fine,” Deidre answered, being careful with her words. “And I’ll try to be faster. You seem to forget I teach spin class!”
“Mom,” he rolled his eyes. “Spin class bikes all stay in place. Your legs do go fast, but they never go forward.” 
“TJ! I missed you!” His little friend Abby ran up and pulled him up along. “Let’s go to the stone house! I already tried at the tan one, but nobody answered the door!” 
“Go on ahead! We’ll be here!” Deidre smiled, standing at the end of the huge estate driveway.
“Ols,” she said warily, once he caught up. “You’re looking worse for wear.” 
“Had to tie my shoe,” he huffed, a blush creeping into his cheeks.
“Out with it,” she wagered, putting her hands on her hips. 
“Pain in my side, for some reason.” 
“Why is your hand on your stomach, then?”
“It is? I didn’t notice,” he answered her, suddenly noticing.
“TJ did. He brought it up. He doesn’t think you feel well.”
“Well, shit. That isn’t good. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. I’m just making sure you’re alright.” 
“I’ll be fine,” he promised, far less than convincing. “I’ll put my game face on.” 
For the next several houses, he made sure to beam. He laughed with his son, told him lame Batman jokes, and did the bat dad voice. He even put him on his shoulders for a little while. 
Secretly, though, he was dying a little bit more with each step. Ever since Deidre brought up his damn stomach, all of his senses responded. He saw the way his shirt sat snugly where it used to hang; felt the churns and gurgles; heard every ominous rumble, even despite all the neighborhood noise. Hell, he even smelt his pain. A deep ache had settled so low that he couldn’t go more than three feet without farting. He dealt with it in stride, no stranger to putting on a show while ill. But every superhero had their kryptonite; their weakness. All the pumpkin spice built up and squeezed his insides tightly; making them a pumpkin vice, preparing to explode.  
Before he could register what he was doing, he had both his hands on his knees, assuming the puking position. Cold perspiration dripped down his warm back, and he closed his eyes, breathing erratically. 
“Dad, are you gonna throw up?” TJ asked, tugging at Ollie’s black cape. “Did you catched the flu?” 
“No, bud. I ate too much. Gonna be fine. I just need a minute or two.” 
“Here, let me hold that.” Deidre gently took his thermos, which was spilling all over his pants. “You’re starting to smell like a brewery, and camera phones are out…” 
“Fuck,” he said, “Any parked cars around? I think I’m gonna puke.” 
“None that I can see,” she answered. “The sun’s almost down, though. You wanna head back? We’ll go nice and slow. Maybe try to hold out for just a little longer.”
Ollie swallowed down the lump forming his throat and tried to ignore his anxiety. Taking a breath, he just nodded and straightened back up with a tight, plastic grin. 
“What do you think, love? You have enough candy? Dad’s a little…” 
“We can be done. All these people are weird, and plus, it’s getting darker.” 
Ollie couldn’t help but chuckle. People were weird. Why would anyone want to record someone vomit in the middle of the street? But hey, that was fandom, and it was too much to try to explain when he currently was the vomiter in question. 
The walk back to the house was tough, but fairly uneventful. Ollie’s nausea dialed back once they were moving downhill, and the breeze made him feel slightly better. His belly ached something ferocious, but he knew he could make it inside and not lose his storehouse of pumpkin spice excrement all over the ground. 
The minute they rounded the corner and his own mansion came into view, his body preemptively made the decision that he was in the clear. 
“How’re we doing?” His ex asked, lugging their son in her arms.
“Ugh,” he moaned. “I need the bathroom. Sorry I can't be more help."
“Uh-oh,” TJ cautioned. “Mom said there isn’t a bathroom until we get back home… so, are you gonna poop your pants?” 
Deidre laughed so hard, she snorted. “Dad’s house is just up ahead, T. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
As soon as they got in, Ollie gave Deidre instructions on how to get Disney Plus on his big screen in the den, then booked it upstairs to the toilet. The urgency was overwhelming once he was safely behind the closed door. As soon as he sat, his knees weakened, and he bit on his lip as he kneaded both fists into the harsh lower cramps. 
After a minute, his legs began shaking. A sickening heat overtook him, and his insides emitted a terrible whine. His gluttonous stomach was begging to be purged of all its sins, and after another enormous, rank fart, torrents of waste began leaving his body. 
Every new surge brought more pain, and he nearly doubled over. Intestinal trash laced with Halloween spice was leaving him so forcefully, his backend burned hotter than fire. 
He didn’t feel comfortable leaving the can for nearly fifteen minutes, but eventually the storm inside died down enough to allow him a reprieve. He cleaned himself up and trudged into the den, where TJ and Deidre were watching Hotel Transylvania.  
“Feeling any better?” She looked up from the screen, nothing but sincerity planted on her face. 
“Still pretty gross, but not ill, so I’ll take it.”  
“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, nodding to the bag of Pumpkin Goldfish that she’d taken for their son. “I kind of helped myself. I ate a cookie, too."
"
“Oh god, take it all,” he groaned with a violent shudder. “Especially the cookies. Ev made them mainly for TJ, and honestly, I've had at least a half-dozen now. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m gonna have to make some changes to my pumpkin pass.” 
“At least you have nearly a year to recover.” Nostalgia seemed to mist her eyes. “I can’t believe all these years later, you’re still just a big kid at heart. For real, I’m lucky, though. You’re such a good dad. Hope you know that.” 
“Dee,” he chuckled. “Thank you, but you need to raise your standards. Forgetting TJ’s flashlight, spilling half my alcohol, looking drunk in front of half the goddamn PTA, and honestly not knowing if I would poop my pants when he asked me? None of that makes me the dad of the year.” 
“It might not make you Bat Dad, but it makes you a regular human, and with all the fame surrounding you, TJ needs normalcy most.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” he said, Deidre’s nostalgia contagious. “We made a great kid, so that’s half of the battle.” 
“Aren't all kids good?” she asked, smirking. The question was rhetorical. They had a running joke. 
“Damn Suzie Parker,” he muttered.
“Don’t make me laugh. TJ’s nearly conked out. It’s probably time we get going.”
“I’ll call you a car,” he said. “Want some more wine?” 
“Why not?” she shrugged. “While we’re waiting, I mean. I guess I deserve to be wicked every now and then.”  
-
Ollie scooped his son up as his ex packed up all of their things. They walked out to the car in silence, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. Once Deidre was in, he slid TJ in too, then told the limo service exactly where to go. 
“I’ll see you Sunday?” he checked one last time. 
“Yeah. His soccer game starts around 2. I can’t believe his little team is one of the last in the playoffs. I feel like he just learned to walk, and now…”
As if on cue, he snored, making Ollie smile. “Gets it from his daddy. Bet you don’t miss that.” 
Deidre avoided the question, not wanting to disrespect Travis. “Get some rest. You look exhausted. Thanks for hanging out.” 
“Rest? What’s that?” he chuckled. “I still have to go to a party and try to pretend I’m not old. Can’t run with the youngins these days.” 
“Especially not if you’re having the runs,” she couldn’t resist adding in. 
“Yeah, yeah. Be safe. Text me once you get in.” “I always do. Have fun.” 
The car pulled away, and he waited for the lights to fade completely before going back in the house. Swigging from the Pepto, he sent Ev a quick update text:
Ollie: Hey, pretty lady. I’m heading out soon. TJ and Deidre just left.
Ev: How was it? 
Ollie: Fun. I took some pictures. I’ll show you later on. What about you? How’s the party? 
Ev: TOTALLY AMAZING! There’s fog machines and ice luges. And even pumpkin pie shots!
Ollie grimaced, picking up the Pepto one more time. 
Ollie: I may switch to apple tonight, if it’s there… 
Ev: Who is this? And where is my boyfriend?
7 notes · View notes
lllakristos · 1 year
Text
Reflecting on my life made me realize that I always had an overindulgence tendency.
Like what kind of a 6-year-old kid watches 8 hours of TV a day while eating mindlessly?
It makes me believe that if I had drugs or alcohol available to me and no morals I would have been the worst female junkie in town
24 notes · View notes
gingerbredman1989 · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media
Too much Easter Candy!
Ideogram AI 1.0
3 notes · View notes
danafeelingsick · 2 years
Text
sɪᴄᴋ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ #11
a sickie, who hasn't eaten all day for whatever reason, finally gets to have a meal, and overindulges themselves a little more than they should. the food just tastes so much better because they've been hungry for so long, and just another plate won't hurt. and another, and another. and they finally have enough, their stomach is crying.
either sickie keeps on eating because they are not about to let food go to waste when they just went for so long without it. and promptly vomits it back into the plate when their stomach can't hold any more.
or, they stop and try to rest, where they are suffering from a stomach ache, which results in them vomiting everything back up almost undigested.
sickie is ashamed of having wasted food on themselves either way.
73 notes · View notes
bellysoupset · 2 years
Note
Oooh okay, so i love Jonah and Wendy's vibe and I was thinking - how about him getting a little too wasted at some medics function, confessing to her how much he likes Leo, and then having to dash away to puke?
(Feel free to just leave to one side for a while cause I know you have loads of Jonah prompts!!)
"Let's dance," Jonah said, chugging the last of his beer and grabbing her hand, pulling Wendy up. Somehow, HR's idea of a hospital bonding included beers and barbecue. Sure, it wasn't your "in the backyard bbq", but it was still far from what he would've considered appropriate.
Wendy had been too enthralled all evening, listening to Jonah bitch non stop about it. Not only about the food and the heat and the fact he was being served beer, but anything and everything under the sun. It was clear he had a thorn on his side, but until he decided to speak on it, he was set on being an absolute bitch.
It was amusing, she thought, giggling and throwing her arms around his neck as he pulled her to the middle of the garden.
They had hired a band, but no one was dancing. Not to bossa nova, that was just not... Not something people knew how to dance to. Wendy didn't. But Mr. Fancy Boarding School did, as he put his hand on her hip and swayed her side to side, an easy drunk smile on his face, that she knew she should cherish, because it wasn't going to last.
"No, eyes here," Jonah tipped her chin when she tried to look at their feet and Wendy huffed.
"I'm going to fall and make a fool of myself."
"I'm not gonna let you fall," he scoffed, squeezing her hand in his and pulling them both to the right with one quick step, then stepping forward - forcing her to go backwards - slowly.
Wendy allowed him to manhandle her around like a ragdoll, bodies pressed together in the mellow rhythm enough that she could ask "What's gotten into you today?" without fear of being overheard.
As she predicted, his smile slipped and Jonah scowled, "nothing."
"Oh really?" she rolled her eyes as he twirled her, "Jonah, c'mon, you've been bitching non stop and now we're dancing."
"I like dancing," he said defensively and Wendy leveled him with an unimpressed glare.
"Jonah."
He twirled her again, so her back was pressed to his chest, "Leo."
"Uhm, Leo," she repeated cheekily. Jonah hadn't ever spoken out loud, but it was no secret to her just how stupidly into Leo he was. Not when his eyes sparkled like that around the man, not when Leo was the subject of 90% of his conversations and not even in a mean way, but fond and tender, "what about Leo?"
"Shut up," Jonah scoffed, turning her around and Wendy laughed, tipping on his arms before coming closer again, hand in his hand, face to face.
"What? You're not gonna tell me?" she egged him on, "That bad?"
"It's not that bad," Jonah grumbled, making a menacing face and she rolled her eyes at his big scowl. It wouldn't ever work on her, despite it sending nurses, doctors and football players cowering.
"Then spill."
He made a face, then ducked his chin to his chest and muffled a small burp, all dainty and nothing like what she had heard in the headquarters of the hospital.
"Sorry, excuse me. All the bee-"
"Leo, we were talking about Leo," she didn't let him change subjects and stepped closer. Now other people had joined the dance floor, none of them as on rhythm as Jonah, but all of them clearly having more fun, "So?"
"Ikissedhim?" Jonah said in a way that sounded like a question and she raised her eyebrows, but didn't pull back.
"You what?!" she whispered and Jonah turned her again, back to chest once more, but instead of answering he muffled a wet burp on her shoulder and caused Wendy to groan, "Jon, ew."
"Sorry," he said, sounding more bitter and sick than actually sorry. Wendy wrinkled her nose, turned her head to look at the director's table, but kept swaying in his arms.
"And I'm guessing it didn't go that well?" she whispered, a fake smile plastered on her face. Jonah grumbled something uninteligible, "Jon?"
"It went great-"
"-so why do you look like he kicked your metaphorical dog?" Wendy dropped all pretense of fake happiness and turned around to face him. Something very close to annoyance started to itch under her skin, as she saw the deep crease between Jonah's brows.
"Well... He didn't remember it," Jonah grumbled, stopping to move too and planting a hand on his chest, rubbing up and down uneasily, "it was when he hit his head."
"A week ago," Wendy deadpanned, trying not to think of the fact he had been sitting on these news for a week. Her voice softened, "honey, he was really concussed-"
"He remembers, Dee," Jonah grimaced, brought a hand to his mouth and muffled a weak, airy burp, "he remembers everything we said that night, he just- He's just pretending he doesn't remember the kiss."
Easy like that Wendy's annoyance returned with vengeance, but now she could feel it clearly and it was not annoyance, it was anger. Protectiveness.
"What the fuck, Jon? That's such an asshole move."
"I guess, I-" he winced, then folded down and a wet, disgusting burp rolled past his lips, making some of the people that were around them take a step back. The head nurse, Claire, frowned.
"Dr. Banks...?"
"He's fine, Clare," Wendy lied through her teeth, wrapping her arms around Jonah's shoulders, "c'mon, let's not cause a sceneee-" she whispered, fake smile plastered on, "nothing to see here, folks!"
She managed to manhandle him away from the hotel garden's but not all the way to the bathrooms. They stopped nearby the water fountain and he planted both hands to his knees, "Wendy, I feel. Uurp. Really sick," he said in a distorted voice and she sighed.
"Breathe, Jon, it's just your head getting to your-"
"No-" he pitched forward with a heave, spat between his feet in the grass, "it's not nerves."
Wendy grimaced, circling him so she was not on the direct splash zone and planted a hand on his back, rubbing up and down as a bunch of wet belches rolled off of him, each one bigger than the previous one- Until he pitched forward with a big burp that morphed halfway through into a gag, sending a gush of pale yellow vomit on the grass.
She wrinkled her nose at the scene and steadied him, feeling his linen shirt stuck to his back, "Jon..."
He was bracing against his knees, a line of drool still hanging from his lips, "it's burning..."
"You just had too much," she reassured him, "breathe in, it should settle soo-"
He shook his head and nearly went down to his knees as more vomit rushed past his lips, this time much chunkier and brown- Wendy turned her head with a gag of her own, staring at the water fountain as she heard the awful noises he was making.
Jonah coughed, sounding out of breath and belched loosely, something he hadn't forced up, "Fuck-" he groaned queasily, falling on his butt on the water fountain and burying his face on his hands.
She carefully averted her gaze from the stone statue pouring water from a basket, pressing her lips in a line as she tried to look at Jonah but not at the mess. He raised his head from his hands upon feeling her gaze on him, "I think I overdid it."
"You think?" she rolled her eyes, "are you still sick?"
He nodded, throat working dangerously, "I just... I just wanna leave."
She was suddenly very grateful they had carpooled there, though not as grateful as she thought of Jonah this queasy stuck in her car.
"I'm just gonna go grab my purse, meet you at the car?"
"Uhm," he groaned, standing up with her help, a hand planted over his stomach, which she could tell was bloated and pressing against his button up.
After a string of apologies and reassurances that "Jonah is fine, he's just a little under the weather", Wendy finally managed to retrieve her purse and make it out of the hotel. She got him a water bottle from the front desk and met him at the parking lot. He was braced against the top of her car, head buried in the crook of his arm and Wendy cringed in sympathy.
"Jon?"
"I'm fine," he grumbled, voice thick with the nausea and she clicked her keys to unlock the car. Upon entering it, Wendy immediately turned on the a/c. All that hot stuffy air couldn't feel good.
Jonah pushed the passenger seat back and collapsed on it, one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other thrown over his face, shielding his eyes from the sun.
In the silence of the car, she could hear his tummy gurgle angrily and he wasn't holding back from burping, which she opted for not pointing out, even if the smell and frequency of them were making her vaguely queasy too.
"I think you're right," he groaned after about ten minutes of nauseous burps and silence. Wendy raised her eyebrows.
"Of course I am, but over what?"
"...He's being a dick pretending he doesn't remember it," Jonah lowered the arm that was shielding his face, planting the now free hand on his stomach and rubbing at it, face all twisted with discomfort and heartbreak, "makes me feel like I took advantage of him."
"You- You?!" she interrupted herself, floored at the revelation and pissed, "Jonah, you didn't do anything wrong!"
"He was concussed, Dee..." he leaned in, forehead coming to meet the car's dashboard, "I don't know, I just wanna forget about it."
She was going to murder Leo Wagner, Wendy decided. Instead of voicing it though, she reached over the handbrake and squeezed Jonah's thigh.
"I'm sorry, Jon," then because she couldn't stop herself, "but you deserve better than someone who pretends your first kiss didn't happen."
"Guess," he grumbled, then burped again, "are we almost there? I'm gonna hurl again, I can-" he swallowed in, "I can feel it."
She sighed, taking her hand back and focusing on the traffic, looking for a place to pull over, "almost."
31 notes · View notes
lettherebeflab · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Todays binge. Am beached, send help.
Tell me what a piggy I've been
3 notes · View notes
hippiedippieblondie · 8 months
Text
Don’t eat too many cookies; eat the right amount of cookies, which is ALL THE COOKIES
5 notes · View notes
jadesartljmu · 2 years
Text
“ Eyes or Pomegranate?”
Oil on wood
Tumblr media
24 notes · View notes