that-horny-sideblog

[that-horny-sideblog]

ooh I’ve been a sucker for sick before/during a performance lately and i deeply adore your fics!! so maybe any of the members of lex and soren’s band trying to make it through a performance or a recording session while feeling absolutely awful? your choice of who!

absolutely! i added that into this WIP i had of a very sick soren.

if you have any more requests, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw for emeto (lots of emeto), fevers, sick on tour.

The world outside was a blur of lights and movement, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window of their tour bus as they rolled into the next stop.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and equipment, a familiar atmosphere that Lex had long since come to associate with life on the road.

But tonight, the usual energy was subdued, the dim lights casting long shadows across the cramped space, adding to the quiet heaviness that hung in the air.

Soren lay curled on the narrow bunk, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, every shallow breath a careful, measured effort to keep the nausea at bay.

He’d been fighting it for hours now, a low, insistent ache that had started as a vague discomfort, a faint queasiness he’d hoped might pass with a little sleep. But as the hours dragged on, the nausea had settled in deeper, twisting in his stomach like a clenched fist, leaving him feeling weak, hollow.

Lex sat beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing gentle, absent-minded circles against the fabric of his shirt.

The touch was grounding, a steady presence that kept Soren anchored, even as the sickness gnawed at him, a relentless pressure that refused to ease.

Lex’s long, dark hair fell over his shoulder in soft waves, a few loose strands brushing against Soren’s arm as he leaned in, his gaze fixed on Soren with a quiet, unspoken concern that cut through the haze of discomfort, a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“Do you want some water?” Lex’s voice was soft, a quiet suggestion that lingered in the air, a gentle nudge that didn’t press, didn’t demand, just offered a small, fragile comfort.

Soren shook his head, the movement slow, deliberate, as though even the slightest shift might set off the nausea again. His hand drifted to his stomach, his fingers pressing lightly against the ache, a small, useless gesture that did nothing to ease the discomfort but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churn in his gut. He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him feeling feverish, weak, a quiet, unyielding reminder of the sickness that had settled in deep, refusing to let go.

Lex’s hand drifted up to Soren’s hair, his fingers brushing through the pale strands in a soft, rhythmic motion, a small, grounding gesture that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

Soren leaned into the touch, his breathing shallow, each inhale and exhale a careful effort as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, from dragging him under.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, strained apology that lingered in the air, tinged with the quiet frustration of his own body’s betrayal. He hated feeling like this—weak, dependent, a weight on Lex’s shoulders when he knew they both had enough to worry about.

Lex shook his head, his hand moving to Soren’s back, a steady, reassuring touch that eased the tightness in Soren’s chest, the quiet anxiety that had been gnawing at him since the nausea had set in. “Don’t apologize,” he replied softly, his tone warm, a quiet reminder that he was here, that he didn’t see this as a burden, that he didn’t mind the weight. “Just focus on breathing. You don’t have to push through this alone.”

Soren took a slow breath, his head dipping as he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve. But the sickness clung to him, a low, insistent ache that twisted deeper, sharper, with every passing moment.

His stomach clenched, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over him, sharp and relentless, leaving him gasping for breath, his body tensing as he tried to fight it down, to hold it back.

But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up, relentless, and he barely had time to brace himself before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him breathless, his hand flying to his mouth as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand moved to his shoulder, a steady, grounding touch that kept him anchored, kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady presence that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth of his touch, the gentle reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone. “Just breathe—I’m right here.”

The nausea surged again, sharper this time, an insistent pressure that left him trembling, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers warm, comforting. He could feel the faint, damp chill of sweat beading along his forehead, a quiet reminder of his own weakness, the vulnerability he’d never quite learned to accept.

Lex pulled him forward a bit, getting Soren to lean over the edge of the bunk, where despite Soren’s will, his lunch made an unappetizing reappearance into the plastic bin Ksenia pushed in before she took her residence in the living area of the bus. Ksenia was never one for caretaking, so she left ample space for Lex to do his thing.

When the worst of it passed, Soren slumped back, his breathing shallow, uneven as he tried to steady himself, to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, his hand pressed against his stomach as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers brushing through Soren’s hair in a small, soothing gesture, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

“You’re okay,” Lex murmured, his voice soft, a gentle reassurance that lingered in the air, a warmth that seemed to cut through the discomfort, to settle over Soren like a blanket, easing the tension, the weight that had been pressing down on him.

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea lingering, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to ease, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling drained, hollow, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

“Think you can rest a little?” Lex asked, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, a quiet question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren nodded as he let out a slow, careful breath, his hand resting on Lex’s knee, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, kept him anchored in the warmth of Lex’s presence.

He knew, on some level that he had someone beside him, someone who saw him, who understood. But the thought of leaning on Lex, of letting himself be vulnerable, left him feeling exposed, fragile, a quiet discomfort that he couldn’t quite shake.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

-

The hours wore on, and the low ache in Soren’s stomach refused to ease, twisting and tightening until it felt as though every breath, every small movement, was a battle against the nausea that seemed to coil deeper, sharper with each passing moment.

He lay there, curled in on himself, his forehead pressed against the cool wall of the bunk, his breaths shallow, careful, as though even the slightest shift might tip him over the edge.

Lex hadn’t moved from his side, his hand a steady, comforting presence on Soren’s back, tracing gentle circles, the rhythm grounding, familiar. He could feel Lex’s gaze on him, warm and concerned, a quiet, unspoken question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone, that he could lean into the comfort, the support Lex offered so freely.

“You’re really not looking great,” Lex murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, a gentle observation laced with concern. “I’ve got some ginger tea I could make, or… I have something stronger if you want.”

Soren managed a faint shake of his head, the movement slow, hesitant, as though he were trying to push past the discomfort, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

The thought of taking anything felt distant, unreal, his focus turned inward, fixed on the relentless ache, the quiet, insistent nausea that gnawed at him, leaving him feeling hollow, weak. Soren wasn’t even sure if he could hold it down, tea or otherwise. So, why bother?

But Lex didn’t push, just shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, steady, a small, grounding touch that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Soren leaned into the touch, letting out a slow, unsteady breath, his body slumping, the exhaustion settling over him like a weight, leaving him feeling drained, empty.

The nausea crested, sharp and insistent, a fresh wave that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the bunk as he fought to keep the sickness at bay, to push it down, to hold it back.

But his body betrayed him, the nausea rising with a force that left him gasping, his throat tight, his stomach clenching painfully as he felt the sickness clawing its way up, relentless, unyielding.

Lex was there in an instant, his hand moving to Soren’s shoulder, a steadying touch that kept him grounded, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Okay, okay my love, I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “Just breathe—it’s alright.”

But the nausea refused to let go, clawing its way up with a force that left him trembling, his body giving in to the sickness in harsh, involuntary waves. He barely had time to lean over the trash can before his body gave in completely, each heave leaving him breathless.

His throat burned, the acidic taste sharp and bitter, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers gentle, soothing, a small, familiar touch that kept him steady.

“It’s okay,” Lex murmured, his voice a quiet, constant presence, a warmth that settled over Soren like a blanket, easing the weight, the discomfort that had been pressing down on him.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, relentless, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, drawn, a reminder of his own weakness, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his body sagging against the bunk, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort to keep the sickness from rising again. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve.

Lex reached into his bag, pulling out a small orange bottle. Soren heard the familiar rattle of pills in plastic. It was only then he realized he probably threw up the antipsychotics and did not, in fact, want to face trying again even if he feared what might happen without them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not those meds,” Lex said, Soren wondered if Lex could read his mind, “I’ve got some anti-nausea meds. They work wonders, really. It’s what made me stop puking during our New York stops.”

Soren hesitated, even as the nausea twisted, sharper now, a relentless ache that refused to let go. But Lex’s gaze was steady, warm with an unspoken encouragement that settled over him.

And, Soren thought, Lex had been vomiting for days, unrelated to some sort of virus, during their four stops in New York. And if what Lex said was true, that he took it then, it really did work wonders.

With a slow, shaky breath, Soren gave a faint nod, his hand drifting to Lex’s, a small, reluctant acceptance of the care that Lex offered so freely.

Lex offered a faint, reassuring smile, his fingers brushing against Soren’s as he opened the bottle.

Lex handed him a pill and a small glass of water, his touch steady, gentle, a quiet reassurance that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

“This should help,” he murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady encouragement that kept Soren grounded, even when everything felt so miserable.

Soren took the pill, the cool water soothing against his throat, a small comfort that settled over him like a blanket, easing the sharp, relentless ache that had been gnawing at him.

And as he leaned back, he let himself breathe, let himself sink into the warmth, the comfort that Lex offered, a small, fragile acceptance that settled over him, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s shoulder, Soren let himself lean into the comfort.

The nausea lingered, a low, insistent ache that refused to ease entirely, but with Lex beside him, with the gentle, constant touch of his hand, Soren felt a small, precious peace, a comfort that cut through the discomfort, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

And as he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warmth, the familiarity of their connection, he felt the quiet, grounding reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone, that he didn’t have to face it all on his own.

-

Morning brought a tentative hope that the worst of the sickness had passed. Soren lay on the narrow bunk, his eyes half-closed as he took careful breaths, feeling the familiar ache in his stomach but noticing, with some relief, that it was duller than the night before.

The nausea lingered, a quiet, uncomfortable reminder of his body’s rebellion, but it was manageable, a low, insistent ache that didn’t overwhelm him, that allowed him a small, cautious optimism for the day ahead.

Lex sat beside him, a steaming cup of herbal tea cradled in his hands, the scent of ginger and chamomile filling the air, soothing in a way that seemed to settle Soren’s nerves, to ease some of the residual discomfort.

Lex’s gaze was warm, soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but he offered a faint, reassuring smile as he handed the cup to Soren, his hand lingering on Soren’s shoulder, a gentle, grounding touch that settled over him like a blanket.

“Think you’re up for the interview?” Lex asked, his voice soft, careful, a quiet question that didn’t press, that allowed Soren the space to answer honestly.

Soren took a slow sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through him, a small comfort that eased the tension coiling in his chest.

“I think so,” he replied, his voice steady, though he could feel the faint edge of uncertainty lingering beneath the words. “I’m… better than last night, at least,” he added.

Lex nodded, his hand moving to rest on Soren’s back, a gentle, reassuring presence that kept him grounded, that reminded him he didn’t have to carry this alone.

“If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll take it slow,” he murmured, his voice warm, a quiet, unspoken encouragement that settled over Soren like a blanket.

With Lex’s support, Soren found the strength to get ready, moving through the familiar motions of his morning routine, each step careful, measured, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance.

The nausea lingered, a faint, uncomfortable ache that settled low in his stomach, but he pushed it down, held onto the hope that he could manage, that he could push through the day without letting it affect their plans.

By the time they reached the interview venue, the ache in his stomach had dulled further, a faint, manageable discomfort that left him feeling cautiously optimistic. He took a slow breath as they entered the studio, the familiar hum of pre-interview preparations settling over him, grounding him in the routines he knew so well.

Lex stayed close, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s arm, a quiet, steady presence that kept him anchored, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, even as the faint edge of discomfort lingered, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to let go entirely.

The interviewer greeted them with a warm smile, her energy bright and welcoming as she introduced herself, diving into the questions with an ease that put Soren at ease, that allowed him to settle into the familiar rhythm of answering, responding, moving through the motions with a practiced calm.

He could feel the discomfort lurking beneath the surface, a faint, nagging reminder of the night before, but he managed to push it down, to keep his focus on the conversation, on the quiet, grounding presence of Lex beside him.

As the interview wrapped up, Lex’s hand moved to Soren’s back, a gentle, comforting touch that settled over him like a blanket, a small, unspoken reassurance that he’d made it through, that he’d managed to hold it together, if only for a little while.

Soren let out a slow, careful breath, feeling a faint, tentative relief settle over him, a quiet hope that he could get through the rest of the day, that he could push through the lingering discomfort, the quiet, insistent ache that had been gnawing at him.

But as the day wore on, the nausea began to creep back, a low, relentless ache that settled in his stomach, twisting with each step, each small movement.

By the time they reached the venue for the night’s show, Soren could feel the discomfort intensifying, a sharp, insistent pressure that pressed against his ribs, his chest, leaving him feeling weak, unsteady.

He took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness at bay, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Lex noticed almost immediately, his gaze softening as he took in the tension in Soren’s posture, the way he was gripping his stomach, his jaw clenched against the discomfort.

Without a word, Lex moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s back, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles, a quiet, grounding presence that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a gentle, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “You sure you’re okay for this?”

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea building, sharper now, a quiet, insistent ache that settled low in his stomach, twisting with each breath, each careful movement.

“Yeah… just… need a minute,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could push through, that he could hold it together, if only for a little while longer.

But even as he spoke, he could feel his control slipping, the nausea rising with a force that left him breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He pressed his hand tightly against his stomach, his fingers digging into his side as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold it back, but the ache only grew sharper, more insistent, a weight that settled heavily, unyielding.

Lex’s hand drifted to Soren’s shoulder, a small, grounding touch that kept him anchored, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“If you need to sit this one out…” Lex’s voice was soft, careful, a gentle suggestion that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren managed a faint, weak smile, though he could feel the nausea clawing its way up, sharper now, a quiet, relentless pressure that left him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the nearby chair as he fought to steady himself, to keep the sickness from dragging him under.

“I can handle it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, desperate assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through the discomfort.

But the nausea surged again, sharper this time, a relentless ache that left him gasping, his body giving in to the sickness with a force that left him breathless, weak.

He barely had time to lean over the trash can Lex had set beside him before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him shaking, his hand gripping the edge of the can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex was beside him in an instant, his hand moving to the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, comforting, a small, familiar presence that kept him steady, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that settled over Soren like a blanket, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry this on his own.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, unrelenting, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his head hanging, his hand still pressed to his stomach as he fought to catch his breath, the nausea lingering like a dull ache, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion. He felt weak, hollow, each breath a careful, measured effort, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers gentle, soothing, a quiet, steadying presence that kept Soren grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, babe, you don’t look good at all,” Lex said softly.

“I don’t feel good, at all,” Soren said, sighing softly, “But I’ll… I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, because the reamins everything you’ve eaten in the past three days looking like some fucked up recipe for disastwr in the trash is a very clear indication you’re totally fine.” Lex said sarcastically, chuckling softly.

“If you ever describe it that way again, next round goes on you,” Soren mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head on the dressing room vanity.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s back, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady.

And in that small, quiet space, Soren let himself lean into the comfort, the warmth, a fragile, tentative acceptance that he didn’t have to face this alone.

As showtime drew near, Soren could feel the discomfort creeping back, sharper and more insistent with each passing moment. The cautious optimism he’d felt that morning, the faint hope that maybe he was on the mend, had faded, replaced by a familiar ache that settled low in his stomach, a relentless, twisting nausea that left him feeling hollow, unsteady.

He took careful breaths, willing the sickness to ease, to give him enough strength to get through the night, but the nausea only grew, sharper now, a quiet, insistent reminder that his body was protesting in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Lex stood beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt. It was a quiet, grounding gesture, a familiar warmth that cut through the haze of discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Lex’s gaze lingered on him, soft, concerned, a quiet, unspoken question lingering in his eyes, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just stayed close, his presence a steadying comfort that kept Soren grounded.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight on his own.

Soren managed a faint, strained smile, his head dipping slightly as he nodded, his voice steady, though he could feel the tremor lingering beneath the words. “I’ve got this,” he replied, his tone firm, a quiet determination that belied the nausea twisting in his stomach, the sickness that clung to him, sharp and unyielding. He’d pushed through before—long nights, rougher shows, moments when he’d felt weaker, sicker than this. He could manage, he had to.

As the band took their places on stage, the roar of the crowd washed over him, a deafening wave that usually settled his nerves, that reminded him of the rhythm they’d built, the routines that held them steady. But tonight, every sound, every bright flash of the lights felt like an assault, each sensation amplified by the discomfort gnawing at him, leaving him feeling off-kilter, exposed.

Lex stayed close, his gaze flicking to Soren every now and then, a quiet, subtle check-in that kept him grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone. Soren’s hand drifted to his stomach, pressing lightly against the ache, a small, futile gesture that did nothing to ease the nausea but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churning in his gut.

He could feel the sweat breaking out along his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion, the weakness he could never quite accept.

The first song began, the familiar chords reverberating through the stage, grounding him in the routine, the rhythm he knew so well. He focused on his guitar, each note a small, careful movement that kept his mind occupied, that allowed him to push the sickness down, to hold it at bay, if only for a little while.

Lex’s voice rose over the crowd, steady, powerful, a sound that seemed to cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the present, in the familiar warmth of their connection.

But as the minutes ticked by, the nausea grew sharper, more insistent, a low, relentless ache that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, weak.

He took careful breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together. But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up with a force that left him gasping, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t fight.

Soren took advantage of a small instrumental break, slipping to the side of the stage, his movements careful, deliberate, as he braced himself against the wall, his hand pressed tightly to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness at bay.

He barely made it to a small trash can set discreetly offstage before his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, his throat raw from the acid, the strain.

The sickness was relentless, each wave sharp, unyielding, leaving him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to steady himself, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

He barely had a moment to catch his breath before the next song began, the familiar chords pulling him back, forcing him to push the sickness down, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

He wiped his mouth, his hand shaking slightly as he steadied himself, forcing himself back onstage, back into the rhythm, the routine that kept him grounded, that allowed him to push through the discomfort, if only for a little while.

Lex’s gaze met his as he stepped back into place, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint, reassuring smile, a quiet assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

He could see the worry in Lex’s expression, the way his gaze lingered on Soren, a silent question, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just continued, his voice steady, powerful, a grounding presence that kept Soren anchored.

But as the night wore on, the nausea grew worse, sharper, a low, relentless ache that refused to let go, that twisted in his stomach with each song, each note. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Another instrumental break offered a brief respite, a small window for him to slip offstage again, to find a quiet corner where he could brace himself, his hand pressed to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness down, to hold it back.

But his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, the taste of acid sharp and bitter on his tongue, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t push through the night without consequence, but the thought of stepping down, of leaving Lex to handle it alone, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, a quiet discomfort he couldn’t quite shake.

As he made his way back onstage, he could feel Lex’s gaze on him, a quiet, gentle concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren forced a faint, reassuring smile, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

Lex’s hand brushed against his arm, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to carry the weight alone, that he didn’t have to hold it all on his own.

But as the night drew to a close, the sickness refused to ease, each wave sharper, more insistent, a reminder that his body was reaching its limit, that he couldn’t push through without consequence.

By the final song, Soren could barely hold it together, his body trembling, weak, the nausea a relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, breathless, each breath a careful, measured effort.

Lex glanced over, his gaze soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint nod, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

And as the last notes faded, as the lights dimmed, he felt a small, tentative relief settle over him, in the form of Lex’s arms wrapped around him.

-

The afternoon sun poured through the bus windows, casting a warm, gentle light over everything, a contrast to the relentless exhaustion that had plagued Soren over the past day.

He sat at the small table, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands, the faint scent of peppermint and ginger filling the air, soothing in a way that reminded him of Lex’s own quiet attentiveness, the careful way Lex had stayed beside him through the worst of it, grounding him, comforting him.

The sickness had lingered through the early morning, each hour a quiet battle against his own body, but by now, the nausea had faded to a dull, manageable ache, a faint discomfort that was nothing compared to the sharp, relentless sickness that had gripped him the day before.

He took a slow sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him, easing the last remnants of tension that clung to his body, a reminder of the vulnerability he could never quite shake.

Lex sat across from him, his long, dark hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, his gaze soft, warm, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his expression.

He’d been watching Soren with a gentle, attentive gaze, his gaze lifting every so often from his phone or his notebook.

“Feeling better?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push himself, that he could take things slow, that he could let himself recover at his own pace.

Soren nodded, managing a faint, reassuring smile as he set the tea down, his hands resting on the table as he leaned back, letting out a slow, careful breath.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady, though there was a faint edge of exhaustion lingering in his tone. “Finally feels like it’s passed… thanks to you,” he added, a small, grateful smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of the care Lex had offered so freely, so gently.

Lex waved off the thanks with a soft smile, but his gaze lingered, a subtle warmth in his eyes that conveyed more than words ever could—a quiet understanding, a comfort that had always been there between them, a connection that needed no explanation.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to rest lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the silence stretching between them, Soren’s gaze drifted to Lex’s face, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the slight tension in his expression, a subtle discomfort that hadn’t been there before.

It was small, barely noticeable, but Soren had known Lex long enough to recognize the subtle shifts, the quiet signs that hinted at something deeper, something Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Lex cleared his throat softly, a faint, almost absent-minded sound that Soren had come to associate with Lex’s own discomfort, a small, unconscious habit that often preceded the early signs of sickness. It was subtle, a quiet tic that most people wouldn’t notice, but to Soren, it was a small, telling detail, a hint that Lex might be feeling the first stirrings of whatever illness had overtaken Soren. Lex only ever cleared his throat this much when he was feeling like he was about to vomit, as if doing so would dislodge the sickness from his throat and go back down, a habit picked up to avoid throwing up, Lex always hated getting sick like that.

“You alright?” Soren asked, his tone light, casual, though there was a faint, gentle concern lingering beneath the question, a quiet, unspoken hope that Lex might be willing to acknowledge the discomfort, to let himself lean into the support that Soren was ready to offer.

Lex glanced up, his gaze meeting Soren’s, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something unspoken in his expression, a small, vulnerable look that settled over him, before he brushed it off with a faint smile, a small, self-assured nod. “Yeah… just tired,” he replied, his tone calm, steady, though there was a faint edge of something else lingering beneath the words, a quiet discomfort that hadn’t quite settled.

He cleared his throat again, a small, almost reflexive gesture, his gaze dropping to the tea in his hands as he took a slow sip, his movements careful, deliberate, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance. Soren’s gaze lingered, a quiet, gentle concern settling over him as he watched Lex, taking in the small, subtle shifts in his posture, the faint way his hand trembled as he set the cup down, the way his gaze seemed to drift, unfocused, a quiet discomfort lingering in the background.

“You’re sure?” Soren pressed, his voice soft, a gentle, unspoken question lingering in the air, a quiet hope that Lex might let himself lean into the comfort, the support that Soren was ready to offer, a small, tentative invitation to share the weight, to let Soren take care of him for once.

Lex’s smile was faint, a small, grateful expression that flickered at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of Soren’s concern, though he didn’t answer, didn’t give any indication of the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface. Instead, he reached across the table, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the quiet stretching between them, Soren could feel the faint, subtle tension in Lex’s touch, the quiet discomfort that lingered in the background, a small, unspoken reminder that there was something more beneath the surface, a hint of vulnerability that Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But Soren didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just held Lex’s hand, a quiet, grounding presence that kept them both steady, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone.

And as the afternoon sunlight filled the space, casting a warm, gentle glow over them, Soren felt a small, quiet understanding settle over him, a reminder of the quiet strength, the connection they shared, a bond that needed no words, no grand gestures, just a hand on a shoulder, a quiet, steady comfort that held them both, even in the vulnerable moments, even in the quiet, unspoken understanding that lingered between them.

As the silence stretched on, Soren couldn’t shake the faint, lingering feeling that hinted at the possibility of Lex coming down with the very same illness he’d struggled through.

It was subtle, a small, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a quiet tension that lingered in the background, but Soren knew, in that small, fragile moment, that he would be there, that he would offer the same care, the same quiet support that Lex had given him.

Soren didn’t miss the way Lex set down his mug of tea like it had personally wronged him, or that the mere thought of drinking more would make his body stage an all out rejection. But, he didn’t say anything about it, Soren didn’t ask.

Soren moved to sit next to Lex, closing the space between them, wrapping an arm around Lex’s shoulders as if that would protect Lex from whatever knocked Soren so badly.

“Come here,” Soren said, rubbing Lex’s shoulder, “I’ve got you.”

[that-horny-sideblog]

Size differences in whump tho,,, large caretaker carrying small whumpee like it's nothing,,,, small caretaker using all their strength to support large whumpee as they struggle to walk,,,, hehe

[that-horny-sideblog]

Sickness/injury prompts

Whumpee:

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I swear.”

“Can I just sleep for a little while?”

“You can’t make me go to the doctor’s. I’m fine.”

“It still hurts.”

“I don’t need that, honestly!”

“Everything’s…spinning.”

“Could you stay with me til I fall asleep?”

“Why am I so cold?”

“I feel better already.”

“Just make it stop, please.”

Caretaker:

“Easy, I’ve got you.”

“I don’t care what you say, you’re having the day off.”

“You look tired, Whumpee.”

“Does anywhere else hurt?”

“Just get some rest for me. You need it.”

“Take it easy today, you still look kinda off.”

“You’re not making any sense, love.”

“Well, medicine doesn’t usually taste great.”

“I promise it’ll all feel better in the morning.”

“Would you just take it? For me?”

[that-horny-sideblog]

"Don't touch me." + Caretaker?

"I'm not. I'm not touching you. I'm not even close."

"I have to."

"It's just me, sweetheart, you're safe with me."

"I won't, I just need to see that wound. No touching, I promise."

"You'll bleed out if I don't."

[that-horny-sideblog]

Love when whumpee is put into a coma, and caretaker doesn't leave their side. A caretaker so dedicated to watching over whumpee that they need to be pulled away from whumpee in order to sleep, and they absolutely will not leave whumpee's side unless one of their friends swaps places with them and watches over whumpee in their stead. Caretaker is never gone for long though, and is quick to take charge of watching over whumpee again. A caretaker that keeps whumpee shaved and clean, making sure not to touch any of the machines keeping whumpee alive. A caretaker that watches over the doctors and nurses that routinely check on whumpee, thanking them for taking care of whumpee and asking if whumpee will wake up soon. A caretaker that holds whumpee's hand, listening to the monitor and ventilator as they wait patiently for whumpee to wake up. A caretaker that climbs into whumpee's hospital bed, playing with whumpee's hair as they tell whumpee how their day went. A caretaker that begins crying into whumpee's shirt, begging whumpee to wake up soon. A caretaker that holds whumpee's hand as they fall asleep next to whumpee's bed. A caretaker that screams for staff when whumpee finally wakes up. A caretaker that wraps whumpee up in the tightest hug after the staff tells them it's ok, crying in whumpee's arms as whumpee tries to calm them down.

Whumpee could never imagine all that caretaker did for them while they were asleep.

[that-horny-sideblog]

Safe and Ethical Feedism Masterpost

Recent events in the feedism community have made me recognise the need for a database compiling all useful resources on practicing this feedism ethically and safely. So I’m making one.

If you are new to feedism or been in the community for a long time, I demand you read this.

Concerning Safety:

- The wonderful @feederwithbighands has some words for you about cybersecurity…

https://feederwithbighands.tumblr.com/post/641980567506845697/oh-and-use-long-passwords-i-dont-give-a-fuck-if

- This guy’s fairly new, but we now have our own superhero! @feedismbatman will help you call out toxic individuals whilst remaining anonymous:

https://feedismbatman.tumblr.com/

- @feedeetips primarily offers advice about gaining weight, but they also have some great posts about staying safe in the feedist community. The two I’ve listed below are little Americacentric, and I’ll confess I find their language a little too blunt, but these are very informative and clear nonetheless, particularly if you are a female feedee model:

https://feedeetips.tumblr.com/post/186911901569/feedee-safety-tips

https://feedeetips.tumblr.com/post/190082639774/feedee-web-models-leaving

- This could fall under either category, but here’s very brief and informative overview of why consent is important in ALL sexual encounters. That includes interacting with feedists online in any capacity:

https://www.dailydot.com/irl/what-is-consent/

- Do you think consent makes getting sexual gratification, be it virtual or IRL, harder? Well, to be frank, you’re wrong, and Ahra Mahdawi of https://www.theguardian.com/uk is here to explain why:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/dec/22/metoo-movement-office-parties-decline-weinstein-moonves

- Cited him so much already, but @woodsgotweird has made this great video giving you an overview of how to stay safe in the feedist community from his perspective as a content creator. needless to say, this is especially useful if you’re a feedist model of any kind:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0pa9_duYE8

- Telling your friends about your feedist could help keep you safe if you’re ever doxxed. As such, I’ve made the following posts, about telling your friends about your kink and about telling your therapist (assuming you’re lucky enough to have one). I’d recommend these to everyone in the community, if you can excuse my egotism:

https://justanotherworthlessweirdo.tumblr.com/post/647817712683335680/telling-my-friends-about-feedism

https://justanotherworthlessweirdo.tumblr.com/post/647113313389543424/telling-my-therapist-about-feedism

Concerning morality:

- As a website, https://fantasyfeeder.com has a lot of problems, and, as probably the first dedicated online feedist community out there, are probably in some small part for fostering the community’s toxic culture. However, their YouTube channel has this really great video on how to be an ethical feedist and not ruin people’s lives. Please watch this, especially if you’re new to feedism:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBRrgBPMAB4

- Is it egotistical of me to cite myself? Probably, but over 200 reblogs can’t be wrong. This post of mine absolutely blew up back in November and is still doing the rounds, and as my most popular post i guess it’s inadvertedly made me kind of an authority on ethical feedism, so check it out:

https://justanotherworthlessweirdo.tumblr.com/post/632513996135776256/why-the-community-is-toxic-this-post-is-gonna-get

- There are a lot of misconceptions about feedism, even within the community itself. This article by Marie Southard Ospina on https://everydayfeminism.com/ helps clarify some of those misconceptions, and shows how you can be a kinder and more ethical feedist. Particularly recommend this one to feeders.

https://everydayfeminism.com/2016/10/assumptions-about-fat-fetishism/

- On similar lines, here’s Ospina again, discussing the relationship of feedism to the fat acceptance movement. A lot of fat activists hate us, in part due to some of the misconceptions Ospina listed above and in part because our community is so full of incels, but if you’re a feedist, you should be for fat acceptance.

https://saltyworld.net/why-i-stand-by-the-fat-fetish-community/

- If you’re into podcasts, Wood’s Weird Wellness is one I highly recommend, featuring engaging discussion of the ethics and politics of feedism with some of the kink’s most well-known creators. Really great stuff.

https://open.spotify.com/show/10RtF0mlNdkEzZTQ7Rq18C

- A generalised discussion on how NOT to be a feedist.

https://justanotherworthlessweirdo.tumblr.com/post/625914600908521472/toxic-people-in-the-feederism-community

- Pretty much everything @thaenad posts is brilliant and thoughtful (they coined the QFA term), but here’s a highlight. As a crash course in the relationship between body positivity, fat liberation/acceptance and feedism you could do a lot worse:

https://thaenad.tumblr.com/post/646154619918155776/hi-this-is-a-great-topic-and-i-have-a-lot-to

Final Thoughts (please read)

Please, please, please, SUGGEST RESOURCES I MAY HAVE MISSED. I’ll keep updating this post with them. In particular, it would be nice to have some useful introduction to fat politics, preferably an article: I remember m-ary had some good links for that but of course those links aren’t still active, which is partly why a post like this needs to exist. More resources on safety in feedism would also be useful, though I’d assume there aren’t too many. Finally, not to beg for likes like some dumb influencer, but for god’s sake if you’re in this community,

REBLOG THIS POST!!!!!

The more people who read these resources the better.

[that-horny-sideblog]

assorted stuffing/bloating/hunger prompts

Person trying to fill their belly when they don't have a lot of Actual Meal Food eats a bunch of random things that they don't think will amount to much, underestimates their makeshift meal, winds up a little Too full when they were expecting to still be hungry

Person spends a good chunk of time making themself a nice meal, cuts the recipe a little because it seems like it's gonna be too much for one serving, winds up still hungry after all that time and effort

Person is cooking for somebody who is considerably bigger or smaller than themself, drastically misjudges how much the other person can eat, and leaves them either stuffed silly or still hungry

Person fills up on a nice big dinner and is comfortably stuffed, but whatever they ate isn't sitting right and makes them bloat like crazy on top of already being so full

Person is far too full and feeling very burpy, but they're in a situation where burping seems unthinkable, so they force themself to hold it all in even as their belly becomes more and more bloated

Person joins their friend or partner's family for dinner and, wanting to make a good impression, politely eats everything they're offered by the well-meaning in-laws who are convinced they're not eating enough

Person joins their friend or partner's family for dinner and doesn't eat nearly enough, but, not wanting to seem rude, they opt not to go back for seconds and just hope that the evening doesn't drag on forever

Person eats their fill of some trendy new healthy snack food, not realizing it's designed to expand inside the stomach for long-lasting fullness

Person makes a bunch of food that isn't meant to sit around long (might get soggy, fruit browning, no good reheated, etc) for a party that winds up being rescheduled, has to take care of all the snacks they made that won't be any good tomorrow

[that-horny-sideblog]

(carnival ask anon) ohh that post is really really good, thank you for linking it 💖 if you’d be down to do one that’s more food/stuffing related i would love that sm, but there is no obligation of course!

Your character is at a fair/festival with their friend/partner, and they're determined to have a little bite of everything--it just all smells so good! Of course, they start to fill up quickly, but there's a few more things they're dead-set on trying before they quit. Bonus: The other person is also eating at all the same spots, but their belly isn't handling it nearly as well.

Your character is at a carnival, and while there are plenty of snacks, they aren't really selling much substantial meal-type food. Unable to get their hungry stomach satisfied, your character keeps getting more and more snacks that never quite sate their cravings, despite their belly growing pretty visibly full. Eventually, they're able to secure a corn dog or something that makes them feel like they've actually eaten lunch, and only then do they realize how stuffed they are.

Your character is walking around the fair with a belly full of bubbly soda and sugary snacks. They're already feeling pretty bloated and not so great, but after their friend drags them along onto a ride, their belly gets all shaken up, leaving them feeling bloated to the limit with fizz and more than a little queasy.

Your character is at a food-centered festival, and they get themself some big elaborate "snack" that's really more like a meal for two. They quickly realize that they've misjudged, but, determined not to let their expensive purchase go to waste, they spend the rest of their time at the fair working at it as they walk around, growing increasingly stuffed while their friends tease them for getting such a huge thing.

Your character is at a fair with their friends, and they're plenty full after getting a nice big lunch from one of the stands. Their friends came with intentions of trying a lot of different things, though, and your character either feels pressured to or can't resist eating along with them, even though their belly was full to start and is only getting fuller.

Your character was looking forward to a certain food stand that's always at the annual festival, but this year, they can't find it. Disappointed, they fill up on other snacks instead. As they're just about to leave, though, something catches their eye--the stand! Their belly is absolutely stuffed, but they can't resist getting the treat they've been waiting all year for, and it's best enjoyed hot and fresh.

[that-horny-sideblog]

I think my number one favorite stuffing trope is when the person realizes that they’re so full their belly hurts, but they decide to keep eating anyway.

No force, no pressure. For one reason or another, they just choose to keep putting food into their aching stomach.

A million bonus points if the character starts groaning about how full they feel, how bad their bellyache is getting, how they can’t believe how much they’ve eaten already – even as they continue to stuff themselves.

[that-horny-sideblog]

The thought for today is someone who prides themselves on much they can eat literally biting off more than they can chew. Maybe they’ve decided to order a restaurant’s eating challenge dish without any preparation because “it can’t be THAT hard” or they’ve been bragging about how they can totally polish off X number of plates plus dessert at a buffet or they’re going to an event where they’ll be expected to have a sizable meal, like a fancy dinner with several courses, but they’ve been snacking all day and could have comfortably stopped eating for the day by the time they arrive.

I’m thinking about the moment it dawns on them they’re not even close to finishing their meal and they’re already stuffed to the gills. All the confidence they had in themselves suddenly gone, replaced with worry as they realize their bottomless pit of a stomach does, in fact, have a bottom and it has already been filled up all the way to the top.

But, naturally, they’re too prideful to admit defeat after all the boasting they’ve done. So they keep on forcing themselves to eat, stubbornly ignoring how each bite they swallow makes them feel -and look- more and more like they’re going to explode.

[that-horny-sideblog]

Thinking about warlocks getting fucked by their patrons again

Something something Great Old Ones warlock getting fucked over and over again by tentacles and forms their mind can't comprehend. It may not even be their patron, just some creature they were put out on loan for. Does it really matter though? Certainly not, once they're filled the their breaking point again and again until even the simplest thought is too much. It's okay though, not all warlocks have to be adventurers, some can just be good little toys for something or someone much more powerful

[that-horny-sideblog]

RED ALERT RED ALERT ACCIDENTALLY RB'D A KINKY POST TO MY MAIN LMAO OOOPSSS

[that-horny-sideblog]

hello kinky people in my phone, please read

this is a gentle but very sincere request to please start taking COVID seriously again if you've stopped doing so. you have the power to protect yourself and the most vulnerable members of our community.

in the US, about 1 in 10 adults report having long COVID. 79% of these people say it affects their daily activities. earlier data has suggested that trans and disabled people are most likely to have long COVID, at 11% and 12%, respectively. (source)

i have been slacking off but i can't take the cognitive dissonance anymore. taking any amount of increased precautions is a step in the right direction, but here are some actions i am personally (re)committing to:

wearing a mask (KN95 or better) at ALL times outside the house in indoor & crowded outdoor spaces—this means no dining out. (find a mask bloc near you if you can't afford high-quality masks)

being aware of the high false negative rate for at-home tests; testing twice 48 hours apart to increase accuracy if i must use them, but preferably getting a NAAT test done instead

having serious conversations about COVID with my friends, sharing the precautions i'm taking & encouraging them to do the same

masking around people i don't know the precautions of, or who don't take sufficient precautions for my risk tolerance, unless they've reliably tested negative beforehand

using a sip valve to drink when masked

using CPC mouthwash & iota-carageenan nasal spray regularly eh, turns out evidence for these is really not sufficient for me to be recommending it, please disregard that. see this article for more info.

i understand it is frustrating, exhausting, and isolating to be living under these conditions. i'm especially sad to give up being part of my local kink scene in the same capacity. but i truly feel this is the right thing to do and i'm hoping to find covid-safer ways to engage in kink. i'm posting this here because deciding to make these changes has been extremely stressful and lonely, and i'd like to feel less alone and spark some positive change if i can.

please help keep our community safe <3

[that-horny-sideblog]

Indigestion Prompts

Indigestion from accidentally eating too much . . . Oh, I ate way too much I really overdid it, there were so many things I wanted to taste My stomach is so packed, it's really not feeling great I'm too full to burp My stomach hurts I've got such a bellyache I wish I hadn't eaten so much It feels like nothing is digesting I'm so full it's making me nauseous I can't stand feeling so stuffed I kind of feel like I'm going to puke Actually, yeah, I need to throw up some of my dinner

Indigestion from eating too much on purpose . . . I'm not sure I can eat much more I don't have much room left in my stomach Can we slow down for a second? I'm getting really full. I need to burp a couple of times before I eat more Is it okay if I burp? It's just all really rich Okay, I think I can get a few more bites down I'm just not sure how long I can keep them down I need . . . a break Sorry, I couldn't hold back that gag I'm getting really close to throwing up Can you get a bucket ready for when I need it? I'll try to burp to make more room Uhh, something actually came up that time I'm sorry, but I really need to vomit

Indigestion from eating something that is making you sick Something from my dinner isn't sitting well My lunch isn't agreeing with me Something I ate is upsetting my stomach That breakfast made me sick to my stomach Every time I burp I taste my dinner I'm feeling really nauseous all of a sudden I don't think I'm going to feel better until it's out of my system Everything I drank is really sloshing around My stomach is so upset from dinner I keep burping up acid There is no way I'm keeping my meal down That food is going to be coming back up soon Will you excuse me? I think I'm going to throw up I need to go empty my stomach I'm sorry I keep burping, I'm really not feeling well

[that-horny-sideblog]

I want a nap with a pretty sleepy sick boy 😫 holding n keeping him warm, waking up to check his fever, listening to his heavy exhausted breathing, cool cloth when he needs it, watching his sleepy eyes🥰🥰

+1000 xp if he needs to puke 🥵

[that-horny-sideblog]

me before i realized i have this kink: man i keep accidentally putting my ocs in situations where they're sick/throwing up/passing out. i wish i could write normal shit without derailing the plot to make everyone sick all the time

me now that i've discovered porn: okay blorbo it's designated porn time. you're going to throw up now

the blorbo: actually... i think i will go on a long diatribe about my religious angst

[that-horny-sideblog]

i put more effort into this than intended and ended up with yet another oc ship

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