#fantasy sickfic

[nat-1-whump]

🌿 Whump for elves

Fantasy whump ideas no. 4

(Note that I'm going with the stereotypical foresty elves, but they vary a lot by setting so don't be afraid to play around with them. Sorry for basically disappearing for weeks. I just graduated high school and it was... a time. I'll start working on more writing prompts soon! 💖)

Longevity is a curse. Elf Whumpee can live for hundreds or even thousands of years. Everyone they care about, they will outlive. So, they avoid getting too close to people. The less you love, the less you grieve. Their long lifespan also means that they can suffer for a very long time, perhaps captured by an immortal Whumper who even they cannot hope to outlive. Maybe Whumper doesn't even reveal that they're immortal, so Elf Whumpee spends decades waiting for their captor to die before realizing that it's not going to happen.

Ears. Elf Whumpee is super sensitive to sound. Whumper uses this to their advantage, blasting their eardrums out with a whistle only they can hear, maybe using it as a way to control them in public. Their ears are also a very obvious indicator of their nature. Maybe they've had to chop them off to disguise in a place that is not kind to elves. Every now and then they trace the scarred edges of their ears, wishing they could have them back, but knowing they never will.

Connection to nature and magic. Elf Whumpee has a special connection to those things and the place they call home. Deprived of it, they feel themselves withering away like a flower in a dark room. Maybe they were captured and brought to a lifeless land of concrete and metal. Whumper taunts them by putting wires and metal pipes in ceramic flower pots around Elf Whumpee's cell.

Alcohol. Elf Whumpee has little to no alcohol tolerance. They try a pint of strong Dwarven alcohol at a party and end up a crying, shaking mess on the bathroom floor. Everyone is laughing at them and they feel incredibly sick and embarrassed.

Loneliness and isolation. For whatever reason, elves are strongly looked down upon in society. Elf Whumpee has a hard time getting close to people when nobody wants to be seen near them. Or, their own pride keeps them distant from others. Either way, they have nobody to rely on. When they get hurt, they have no choice but to seclude themself, their hands shaking as they try to treat it alone. Maybe their injuries get worse and they have to drag themself to go beg for help, but nobody will listen.

#aspen's fantasy whump #writing prompts #writeblr #fantasy writing #fantasy writing prompts #fantasy whump #whump prompt #whump community #elf whumpee #elf #elves #fantasy elf #d&d elf #whump #whump writing #fantasy sickfic #sickfic prompts #aspen's writing ideas #the ears and loneliness ones are probably my autistic ass projecting onto elves more than I should but you know what who cares lmao

[angstyaches]

Could u do another similar to the Valentine’s Day Drabble were it’s very fluffy and the person is embarrassed by there gas. There blushing and excusing themselves as there stomach rumbles also phrases like goodness! excuse me dear

or just excuse me or pardon. And my stomach is upset or disagreeing with me please.

I love ur blog have a gd day ♥️

Ahhh, I'm so nervous about this one because it's different and a little silly.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this request but I took some parts and combined when with an idea I already had brewing, I hope that's okay, anon!

Early(ish) Days Felix.

CW: vampire blood-drinking, fantasy elements, overindulgence, bloating, stomach noises, burping, embarrassment, intentional burping, mentions of previous nausea and lack of appetite etc.

___

“Hello,” Elliott said as he walked through the bedroom door.

“Hi,” Felix called out, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he thought he did. He wanted to be excited that Elliott was finally home, but he wasn’t sure his body would let him.

The bed jostled as Elliott sat down to take off his shoes and, in turn, so did the warm, heavy lump of pressure in Felix’s belly. He felt his stomach walls tremble with the effort of holding that pressure in place, but instead of cramping or churning, it continued to just… sit there beneath his rib, but not before letting out an audible groan from under the duvet.

Elliott paused and straightened his back at the edge of the bed. An amused half-smile crossed his face as he turned his head. Felix’s belly didn’t exactly have a reputation for going about its day without making a peep, but more commonly, it was wracked with twisting pleas for sustenance, or the watery gurgles of nausea.

“Was that your stomach?” Elliott asked incredulously, as though part of him wondered if the sound had come from his own.

All the blood – his own blood, that is – in Felix’s veins felt like it was rushing to his face and neck.

He nodded. "Pardon me."

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just… I may have pulled a you today.”

Elliott’s smile dimpled his cheeks. “A me?”

“Yes,” Felix said, savouring the chance to be cryptic for once.

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Elliott chuckled, bending at the waist again to continue unlacing his shoes. “More to the point, should I be flattered or offended right now?”

Felix winced as he watched his partner; Nancy had assured him it was almost impossible, but if Felix tried bending like that right about now, he would surely projectile vomit across the room.

He swallowed carefully at the thought, feeling a tiny bubble of pressure deep in his chest.

“I may have… over-indulged.”

Elliott sat up and glanced over his shoulder at Felix again – first, twisting to get a look at the swell of his belly, and then turning towards his face. He undoubtedly noticed the improvement in his colour; even Felix himself had noticed in the mirror earlier. Vampire starvation apparently took a while to take its toll, but could be remedied fairly quickly under the right circumstances.

“Over-indulged on…?” Elliott raised an eyebrow.

“Blood. Yes.”

“On a hunt?”

Felix nodded.

“Oh. Nice. Where did you go?”

“The woods.” Felix gave a light shrug. “You know geography isn’t my strong suit. I’m certain Ryan can fill you in the details…”

At the emergence of another deep, sluggish rumble, Felix flinched, an inexplicable shyness washing over him. He wasn’t sure if it was the relief that sparkled in the amber of Elliott’s eyes, or something else, that sparked a warm glow in his chest. He didn’t dare to hope that Elliott might be… proud of him? Or, at the very least, less worried about him than he usually had to be.

“I’m assuming Nancy gave you something for the nausea, then?”

“Yes,” Felix said, trying to brace himself for the wobble in the mattress as Elliott moved again. “It was incredible. Like night and day.”

Elliott finally kicked off his shoes and placed them to the side of his dresser. “Oh?”

“She gave me a tonic, which…” Felix paused as he listened to his own stomach churn, feeling its gently burbling movements inside. He smiled in Elliott’s direction to assure him he was okay. “I’m not quite certain, but I think it relaxed the muscles in my stomach. Have you heard of that?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“She and Ryan must have developed it recently then.”

Elliott scoffed. “Or I just never had need of it.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Felix grimaced. He was both very attracted to and envious of Elliott’s seemingly indestructible digestive system.

Then again, if there were any stories from Elliott’s transformation days that painted him in a less-than-indestructible light, Felix was sure he’d gone to lengths to make sure those stories were kept airtight.

“So, it worked?”

“Yes. Once everything relaxed, it…” Felix almost didn’t want to admit that today’s hunt – the adrenaline, the euphoria, the feeling that he was the strongest creature on the food chain – aligned uncannily with how Elliott had described it all along. “It felt… the way I assume it is supposed to feel.”

Instead of hitting him with an I told you so though, Elliott leaned on his elbow, bringing his face closer to Felix’s. His bergamot-heavy cologne made Felix’s head swim in the most delicious way.

“Amazing,” Elliott whispered, with an almost relieved warble to his voice. And maybe a touch of excitement, too? He looked like someone who had been the only one to know a secret for years and years, only to finally have someone to confide in about it. “Right?”

“Incredible, Elli.” Felix wished he had it in him to sound more enthusiastic about it. “Once my body was relaxed and I was in the right headspace, it was… honestly astonishing how hungry I ended up feeling.”

“Not that astonishing.” The spark in Elliott’s eyes dampened slightly. “You didn’t keep anything down for almost a week, boo.”

Felix chewed the inside of his lip at the pet name. Elliott must have caught himself using it too, because he lowered his chin slightly to hide the smile that twitched across his face.

He hummed low in his throat as he reclined into place on the bed, turning to place his head on the pillow beside Felix’s.

All of the movement made Felix’s weight shift on the mattress again, earning yet another groaning vibration from his stomach. Nancy had warned him that along with easing any potential nausea or cramps, the tonic would also slow down the digestive process, meaning he was in for a long night of lying on his back, more or less immobile, as he had been all evening.

He hadn’t been prepared for how exhausted he would feel once his stomach was satisfied. His muscles felt like cotton wool. It was an effort even for his arms to work against gravity right now, so he’d spent most of his horizontal time with his arms placed neatly by his sides.

Felix swallowed. He was just thinking about how nice it would be to have a hand on his content-yet-confused belly when Elliott reached out and placed – no, braced a hand gently on his side, as though in apology for all of the movement.

“Felix,” Elliott exclaimed as his fingers edged up the gentle swell that pushed through the duvet. “Jesus. How much did you drink exactly?”

“Gosh, like I said…” The tips of Felix’s ears burned with indignance, and he found himself gulping drily again. “I believe I experienced something similar to your… frenzies.”

If he was offended or perturbed at all by that, Elliott didn’t say or indicate so.

He peeled the duvet back, exposing the t-shirt that Felix’s abdomen was doing its best to escape from. Its rumbling was even more obvious – and consistent – now that there was no thick blanket to muffle it. His t-shirt had gotten bunched up as he’d gotten comfortable in bed, leaving the lower half of his abdomen exposed.

Felix pressed his lips together and swallowed harshly, his tired lungs shuddering just from holding his breath for a couple of seconds.

He frowned and watched the curve of his belly lift and press even harder against his clothes as he inhaled, hands slumped by his sides. His stomach felt like a sentient water balloon struggling about inside of him.

The warmth and the weight of Elliott’s hand was pleasantly reassuring, though.

"Pardon," he murmured when his stomach shifted noisily again.

Elliott shook his head in mild distaste. "You don't have to pardon yourself every time your stomach makes noise."

Felix disagreed with a silent grimace to himself.

“I am so delighted for you,” Elliott insisted. “The fact that you finally got to enjoy feeding? Felix, that is everything.”

A flutter in his chest allowed Felix to relax into a proper smile. “It is?”

“Absolutely.” Elliott paused to let Felix’s belly grumble into the silence of the room. He waited for a particularly high-pitched, bubbly gurgle to break up the deeper sounds before he frowned and asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, gosh." Felix gulped. "Yes. Sorry. Pardon all of the... disturbance."

Felix squirmed as much as his lethargy would allow him. He found himself wishing his stomach would give it a rest now. Sure, maybe it’d been endearing at first – Elliott certainly seemed to think so – but this was getting ridiculous. It was also getting a little difficult to breathe without becoming painfully aware of his stomach pressing on his lungs.

He wasn’t in pain; in fact, there was something satisfying about feeling his stomach churn and groan and process such a huge amount of blood. He’d been empty, or close to it, for so long, his body so starved for blood that regular food was digested at an accelerated rate, leaving him with hunger pangs mere hours after having a full meal.

But this was… lingering. Satisfying. Something he’d started to doubt would ever be possible for him.

His train of thought was de-railed as Elliott put a single fingertip against his side. The soft, stretched-out flesh barely reacted as he applied the pressure, but as he pulled his finger back and released it, Felix’s tummy wobbled from side to side, acting a lot like the water balloon it felt like.

Felix hummed under his breath, feeling everything – everything – as his stomach trembled inside.

Another trickling gurgle ran through his belly. The impulse to swallow washed sluggishly over him, but before he could do anything about it, a soft burp tickled at the back of his throat, rolling out over his tongue.

"Oh... gosh," he squeaked.

Elliott’s hand splayed over the top of Felix’s stomach, stiff with surprise.

Eyes watering, Felix pinned his gaze on the ceiling. He wanted to cover his face with his hands, but his silly arms felt like jelly. It felt as though the world had shifted on its axis, landing him in an alternative reality where he held even less mystery in Elliott’s eyes. Besides the queasy ones that always found their way out during a vomiting session, he had never burped in front of Elliott before.  

This wasn’t fair. There was very little spasming in his belly or throat, so the gas had simply slipped out of him like it’d been pressed out by an outside force. There was just no room left for it.

“Par – pardon me,” Felix murmured as an afterthought.

“Sorry if that was my fault,” Elliott said. He lifted his hand from Felix’s belly. “Should I stop?”

Felix turned his head to look at Elliott’s idle hand and let out a resigned sigh. He was in for a penny, now; what difference would a pound make? “Do whatever you want, darling. It’s not as though there’s much I can do to stop you.”

“Wait. Are you angry with me?”

“What? No.”

“Something is wrong,” Elliott observed. “Are you sure you're feeling well? Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Well, then, talk to me.”

“I had never…” Felix mumbled off the rest of his complaint, face blazing with heat. He was kind of grateful for the blush; at least Elliott would be able to tell that he was ashamed of what he'd done.

Elliott just stared blankly at him. “What?”

“Oh, my gosh. IhadneverburpedinfrontofyoubeforenandnowI’membarrassed,” Felix blurted out. “Alright?”

It was a half-truth; Elliott had heard Felix expel gas from his mouth more times than Felix was willing to recall, during his many vomiting sessions over the past few months. But this was different. He wasn't nauseous. He should have had more control over himself.

“Embarrassed?” Elliott chuckled like he'd been told an amazing joke. He smoothed a hand over Felix's arm. “Fee, you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Especially not over this. I’ve burped around you lots of times.”

“No,” Felix complained miserably, “you haven’t.”

Elliott’s lips parted, as though he were about to give an example of a time when he had, but his eyes glazed over slightly as the gears turned in his head. “Well… perhaps I haven’t.”

Felix hummed in disappointment. He would have liked to be proven wrong.

“Give me a moment.”

Elliott raised his shoulder from the bed slightly, as though he were halfway into a sit-up. His defined stomach clenched visibly under the fabric of his shirt. He took the hand from Felix’s belly and curled it over the inward curve of his own. Then he inclined his chin and he pressed a little harder…

A low, swishing gurgle made Felix’s ears prick up.

Elliott opened his mouth to release a low, controlled belch, snapping his jaw shut as soon as he was done. Then he relaxed his shoulders into the bed again.

“There,” he said breezily, brushing his fingertips over his stomach muscles. “We’re even now.”

Felix could only gaze at his partner's face. His head didn't feel like it was going to burst into blame anymore, and the strained grumbling of his stomach didn't snag his attention quite as abruptly now.

There was just the two of them.

#StW Felix #StW Elliott #stomach kink #vampire kink #stomach noises #tummy kink #burping #eructo #eructophilia #blood mention #fantasy sickfic #vampire whump #burping kink

[undercover-horn-blog]

Caretaking that is casual. Caretaking that's domestic.

You're sick, but it's just a cold. You're exhausted and sleepy, but it's nothing too serious either, so there's no need to worry.

So you're on the couch, sipping tea, trying to read, ending up just lying there, huddled under your blanket, drowsy and halfway to sleep.

Meanwhile, your partner is sitting next to you, also reading. Or playing a video game while you are watching, blinking tiredly but happy to be entertained in this way.

Or it's your friends. They're chatting, talking about their days. Watching a film. All reading. Studying. Playing cards.

And you're just sort of... there. They ignore your sniffling, don't mind when you blow your nose. They don't think you're gross or annoying. Occasionally, somebody might walk by and absent-mindedly pet your head. Squeeze your shoulder. Without even really looking at you.

"You okay?", somebody says, half-amused, when you sneeze forcefully.

"Fine", you mumble, closing your eyes again.

"You want tea?", somebody asks, but it's just an afterthought. They were already on their way to get tea for themselves.

"You warm enough? Want my jumper?", somebody offers. But it's only because they just took it off since they felt too warm.

You're literally just... there. Like a pet. Still part of it even though you can't do much. And you're so happy to simply be around them, feel included. Know you are cared for even though the illness is not that bad. Know you are loved without having to do anything for it.

#sicknario #sickfic #sicknarios #whump #whump writing #caretaking #snzblr #snz kink #snz #snzfic #idk why but this is such a fantasy of mine #and in fiction also casual caretaking is so damn hot to me #feel like i might be in the minority?? #but yeah... the casualness... it gets me <3

[the-duchess-of-domination]

the sickfic to end all sickfics

i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.

he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.

he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.

“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.

“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.

the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.

he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.

he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.

you hear him start to retch.

you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.

“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.

#tummy ache #belly ache #emeto kink #sickfic #emetophilia #vomit kink #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump #whump community #whumpee #emeto fic #emeto tw #fantasies from the duchess 👑

[primal-playtime]

Have you ever wondered where you could find or be the most disgusting, inhumane degenerate possible? A place where cruelty could be a form of affection? Tumblr used to be such a place, where people like this had just started expressing their nature. It was a cesspool of vile, twisted degenerates.

Do you ever wonder what kind of place Tumblr would be now if that environment had stayed? If the degenerates had grown into the full monsters they are and could express it fully? Where every broken piece was put back into place with golden glue so the world could see the pride in their cracks because they had no shame in their flaws? They love their own twistedness, their vile natures, the darkness inside, and the insidious sensations of their desires and cravings.

Do you ever wish you could see the Tumblr where twisted, vile, insidious monsters and sick, demented, insane victims would seek each other out, indulge in each other, lose themselves within their desires, and call it love within their own sick, twisted, impure obsession?

#dark k1nk #dark kinks #dark thoughts #f0rced breeding #rap3 fantasy #rap3 kink #cnc k!nk #in the mood to corrupt and ruin someone #sickfic #slave matchmaking #bd/sm sadist #forced intimacy #hard k!nks #hard kink

[gremlinbehaviour]

Kipperlily holds another food truck event for her campaign, and although the Bad Kids remember to cast Detect Magic, they neglect Detect Poison. Riz soon finds himself regretting that lapse.

#fanfic #fantasy high junior year #riz gukgak #fabian aramais seacaster #hurt/comfort #sickfic #whump

[thepenultimateword]

Short Prompt #153

Tiny scooped up a large spoonful of warm broth from the soup bowl and hefted it over their shoulder, staggering over the crumples in the blanket and up the slope of the Giant’s chest.

“Uuugh,” Giant groaned as Tiny reached their pale and sweaty face, pinning their chapped lips tightly shut.

“If you want to get better, you have to eat up,” Tiny snapped, arms beginning to tremble under the weight of the spoon.

Giant sighed a huff of breath that blew Tiny’s hair back but opened their mouth reluctantly.

Satisfied, Tiny slowly drizzled the broth down their throat, staring a moment too long into that deep cavernous pit of a mouth.

The giant swallowed, their whole jugular bobbing up and down.

“I’ll get more!” Tiny said, as they came to themselves again, turning the spoon vertically, like a staff, in order to balance their steps on the way back down.

“Uuugh…don’t. D-don’t need… ‘S too hard…”

Tiny jabbed the spoon handle against the giant’s collarbone, eliciting a soft moan. “You better not have just said it’s too hard for me. I don’t care how big you are or how little and helpless you think I am, but I’m going to take care of you until the day you die. Or I die. I guess whichever comes first. Point is your stuck with me.”

#giant/tiny #caretaker tiny #caretaker #prompt #short prompt #writing prompt #fantasy #writblr #sickfic #writeblr #writing community

[angstyaches]

hii could we please get a sick ryan because she ate something stupid (thinking about the time she stole nancys cookies heheh) with nancy as the caretaker? i miss them sm :)🍄

You also requested something Ryan-centric for this post, quite a while ago, so I've combined the two.

Word Count: 4,400+

CW (PLEASE READ): species-based food intolerance, nausea, vomiting, bad self-talk, behaviour which could be interpreted as harmful to the self so please proceed with caution and be gentle with yourselves 🖤

___

“I feel my gratitude must, once again, be expressed,” Ryan said, distracting herself with words while her knife pressed down on her stack of green leaves, tomato slices, chicken, and dressing. This chaotic arrangement had somehow cost more than an entire cow used to cost in the equivalent currency. She supposed she remained indoors far too often, if culture shock could still manage to creep up on her out of nowhere.

Her lunch companion raised her eyebrows as she chewed. She had ordered clam chowder and bread, much to Ryan’s quiet and resigned dismay. Exposure to the smells of food were a challenge for her senses to begin with, but it was a special kind of hell when seafood became involved. To make things worse, she had clams and prawns and whatever else was hauled in off the coast of Portrush had once delighted her beyond reason.

To be sickened by something once loved brought an especially bittersweet tang to her mouth. She could almost hear the crashing waves, the tinkle of little Silas’s laughter –

“For… what?” Mrs. Waters pondered innocently.

“For… inviting me to convene with you over your afternoon meal,” Ryan clarified, giving a slight shake of her head. She would have to limit the extent of her olfactory indulgences as much as possible. “I understand that your schedule must come with an abundance of restrictions –”

The trickle of discomfort in Mrs. Waters’ eyes made Ryan’s words halt on her tongue. She was being too formal. She knew that. Well, she hadn’t known that. But she knew that now.

Or perhaps it was the way Ryan’s jaw threatened to rebel against her every time she lifted the fork to her mouth, her tongue becoming awash with acrid saliva. The way she chewed as though she could somehow stop the food from touching the surfaces inside her mouth. Like a fool.

Like an utter fool.

“It was really no bother at all,” Mrs. Waters assured Ryan, eyeing her bowl of soup as she carefully lifted a spoonful towards her lips. Ryan wasn’t sure if the woman was of a generally nervous disposition, or if it was Ryan, specifically, who was making her nervous. “To be honest, I was a bit anxious to meet you. My Charlie is basically working for you right now.”

“I see,” Ryan said, poking at a chunk of tomato with her fork. It wept a sickly pink juice under the pressure of the tine. She wasn’t sure she was satisfied with the idea that the young Mr. Waters was working for her; she had thought that allowing him to continuing living on the property had been a generous gesture, not a job offer.

Indeed, he would be keeping an eye on the structural integrity of the building and preventing the odd build-up of dust and grime, but didn’t most mortals perform these duties within their dwellings –?

“Not – not that I was afraid you were some kind of weirdo or anything!” Mrs. Waters exclaimed.

“Ah.”

Half a second later, Mrs. Water’s gave a nervous chuckle, which told Ryan that she should be chuckling too, and certainly shouldn’t have given a deadpan, one-word answer. To avoid having to make up for it now, she loaded her mouth full of vinegared leaves, the texture and flavours lost in a sea of tingling, unpleasant numbness between her jaws.

The sensation came on so fast that it felt like a spike had been driven down through the top of her head, its point grating at the base of her tongue. The intensity shocked her somewhat, which was a good thing; if not for the shock, she might have started in her seat and instantly spewed her food back out onto the table.

As things stood, her jaw had clenched and her lips had mashed up tightly together.

“So, you’re looking to move out to the countryside?” Mrs. Waters asked.

Ryan’s eyes were somehow dry, yet also stinging with tears.

She made a show of puffing out her cheeks and pointing towards her closed lips to buy herself more time to chew. More time to… suffer through chewing. Every cell in her body wanted to spray the wet, slippery greens as far as they would go. Her inherently liquid diet didn’t often require her jaws or her back teeth to do much work, beyond the initial slicing into the flesh of a live pray, of course. It was oddly tedious and repetitive work.

Not to mention her guts were practically revolting in protest already. Before she’d turned immortal – more immortal than most other immortals, in fact – Ryan had lived through more diseases than many creatures who still roamed the earth, and she didn’t appreciate the reminder of what sickness could feel like.

But none of that mattered. The current situation called for her to be sociable. There was no room for anything else.

The story was that she was planning to move to the countryside with her partner, who suffered from a rare lung disease and would benefit from a fresher kind of air than the stuff readily available in the suburbs. They were planning on adopting two rescue dogs, and as soon as they were settled in, Ryan planned to take back up her long-lost hobby of painting portraits of animals in Colonial-style dress. This last detail had been Ryan’s own contribution to the charade, and Nancy had raised an eyebrow at it.

The more seemingly innocuous drivel included, the more convincing the fabrication, Ryan had assured her wife, and when it seemed as though Nancy had been about to protest, Ryan had done what she generally did when Nancy was about to protest. She’d kissed her on the mouth.

She couldn’t quite tell Mrs. Waters the truth, that the house her son resided in was plagued by the densest swarm of demons the world over, or that her son himself was possessed by a demon, or that Ryan was monitoring him for fear he’d caught the attention of the most dangerous immortal on the planet.

These were simply not appropriate lunchtime topics of discussion.

“Well… that’s exciting,” Mrs. Waters smiled. She smiled more with the left side of her mouth than the right. “Can I ask why? Are you just… looking for a change, or is there a job…?”

Ryan’s lips trembled, and she wanted to smack them to make them behave. Her lungs gulped in air, despite her efforts to refrain from excessive breathing, as she swallowed the foul mouthful. It gurgled in her throat, her internal muscles twitching and spasming as it was forced down, into a stomach that felt how she imagined Felix’s did when he had to watch a creature being slaughtered.

With a disdainful curl to her lip, Ryan certainly hoped she didn’t look the way Felix did when he had to watch an animal being slaughtered.

Below the table, her stomach burbled.

She pressed a poised finger to her lips, stifled an indigestive burp, and nodded in response to Ingrid’s question. “Well, my partner, you see, has a rather uncommon lung condition…”

___

Ryan sat in her car long for an excessive amount of time after arriving home. The shadows that had descended as the garage door closed behind her had felt like a blanket encircling her shoulders, shrouding her from the prying eyes of the world. The sensation disgusted her. Ryan never had need for blankets or warmth or self-pity.

And as soon as her defences went down, they went down. Hard. The cogs in her brain began to analyse every moment of the interaction, criticise every facial expression, pick apart every selected word, twist at every hum of agreement.

Even the fact that she was sitting in her car, emotionally paralysed, told her that she, herself, needed improvement. If spending the afternoon with a human person could take this much of a toll on her, then she was in dire need of… practice. Exposure. She had once attended Lions Club meetings and taken painting lessons; perhaps it was time to explore those options again. Spend some time with beings other than witches and vampires and… others.

Ryan rested a hand against her abdomen as she pressed her spine into the car seat, feeling a rather violent tension pushing against the buttons of her crisp white shirt. Her stomach was bubbling and squelching away, as though it thought its sluggish efforts would achieve anything close to digestion.

She used the heel of her hand to knead the space beneath her ribs where her meagre meal sat like a thick slime. The wretched organ might as well have been a dried-up clay pot, for all the good it was doing her.

And yet, no matter how many strategies and recalculations spun through her brain, she couldn’t see how she could have excused herself entirely from eating. She could have implied that she was on a diet, or taking medications that limited her mealtime options, but she couldn’t see Mrs. Waters reacting well to either of those. Well, why on earth did you agree to a meeting over lunch? She would have been too polite to say this, but Ryan knew she would have been thinking it. She was thinking it herself.

Thinking about Shayne, Ryan wondered if Mrs. Waters would have felt guilt for eating her lunch if Ryan hadn’t also ordered something. If she’d learned anything from her latest protégé, it was that mortals had the fascinating ability to feel guilt over the most inevitable of their human needs.

Luckily, Ryan was not a human.

And she had things to do.

She drew her shoulders back, released the tension in her stomach - the result was an even tighter press against the buttons of her shirt, but she could ignore it - and opened the car door.

___

As she entered her study after a slow ascent of the stairs, Ryan’s stomach was snarling like a small animal attempting to assert its dominance. She gritted her teeth and bore down on her abdomen with her knuckles. If anything in there wanted out, it should… well, it should make haste. While she usually preferred to shut the door to the upstairs hallway, Ryan left it ajar today, so that she could make a brisk exit to the bathroom when the time came.

Grrrlllrrrgghh.

Ryan listened to the distressed gurgling with a muted sense of contempt. If her stomach was so unhappy with its contents, why hadn’t she thrown up already? She didn’t have all day to wait around for it to happen. Two hundred years, and two transformations later, and it seemed her earthly form was still not without its flaws.

So concerned was she with her despondent gut that she wasn’t even aware that the thrum of Nancy’s footsteps had taken a route from the bedroom to the study, and the soft knock on the doorframe made her heart jump into her raw, delicate throat.

Nancy poked her head around the door with a soft, almost slow-motion swish of her ponytail. “Oh, you’re home!”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, my love?”

“Oh, enough of that,” Nancy tsked, tugging on Ryan’s hand and pulling her about to plant a kiss on her lips.

Ryan softened a little, overcome with relief that she wasn’t married to another vampire. Despite her fantastical abilities, Nancy’s senses – the five main ones, that is – were as dull as the average mortal’s. She wouldn’t detect the scent of salad on Ryan’s breath, so long as Ryan didn’t exhale near her. Therefore, it was a very chaste, brief kiss that they shared.

“How did it… Ryan?” Nancy gasped as she stood back, holding a hand to her mouth as though to quiet herself. “Why do you look like death warmed over?”

Ryan curled her lip as she stalked over to her desk. She thumped the documents onto the wood. “I did not think this was news to you, Nan, but it did. Two hundred years ago, to be precise.”

“Sweetheart, I meant that you –”

“Yes, yes, thank you, love. Incidentally, you also look radiant this evening,” Ryan murmured. As she slumped into her chair, her stomach gave yet another obnoxious, unproductive grumble. She cleared her throat and gazed across at Nancy.

“Sorry, Ry,” Nancy said, cheeks reddening. Then she swept her hands down the front of her skirts, with an air of starting on a clean slate, as she planted herself in the plush armchair that sat to the side of Ryan’s desk. “How did everything go?”

“Fine.”

“Everything signed?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful,” Nancy smiled, with a distinct lack of the excitement she’d had at every other point of this endeavour. “What was Charlie’s mum like?”

“Mrs. Waters,” Ryan rather snapped,“was akin to a pleasant, yet overall remarkably ordinary, individual.”

Nancy let out a gentle scoff, once again brushing her hands over her skirts. “Well, don’t overwhelm me with details.”

“I do not know what more to tell you. Except that… I am…” Ryan’s eyes widened as she trailed off. She’d been trailing off an awful lot today, even though it was a habit that irked her in others.

But a tingling, numbing wetness began to fill her mouth at an alarming rate, worse even than when she’d been taking bites of the salad that was prickling at the base of her oesophagus. The air felt like hot soup against her skin, in her lungs.

Why, why couldn’t Nancy have been occupied elsewhere? Now Ryan was obliged to share her discomfort, or continue her silence and risk giving her wife an untimely fright. “I believe I am… ‘bout to experience… emesis.”

Nancy blinked. “You –?”

Ryan’s eyes were wrenched back so hard in her skull that they ached, and her back arched forward so hard that she felt like a doll being pulled by the hair. The wheels of her desk chair rattled as she trundled out of range of anything particularly porous… Her stomach muscles clenched so hard that Ryan – in a moment of hyperbolic weakness – thought that her internal organs might come up through her nose –

And yet, while her senses braced themselves for the wet, clattering sound of stomach contents hitting the tiled floor, nothing came. Ryan swayed between emotional relief and dismay at being denied the physical relief.

“Oh, sweetheart, come,” Nancy murmured, and then her delicate, warm hands were guiding Ryan’s shoulders up and out of the desk chair. “I knew something was off about you. Did you eat?”

“I may have… ingested… a few mouthfuls of leafy matter.”

“A salad?” Nancy could neither have looked nor sounded more horrified if Ryan had hinted towards having had a stick of plutonium for lunch.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“A refusal to ingest would have resulted in…” Ryan slapped a hand to her stomach – silly as it sounded, her instinct seemed to be to try to physically suppress the spread of pain through her insides. “… Suspicion or discomfort.”

Nancy’s lower lip dropped down silently, but Ryan knew her wife well enough to guess what her thoughts were; how can someone with so much wisdom and experience be so stupid?

Thankfully, dear, sweet Nancy spared her the actual voicing of the thought.

“How… How was it?”

Amidst holding down her gorge, and fighting the urge to slump to the floor and take Nancy with her, Ryan managed to muster up a look of derision. She cast it lengthways as she hobbled from the study with her hands clasped on Nancy’s shoulders. Nancy looked back at her with a gormless grimace.

“Right. Never mind.”

___

“It. Refuses. To. Emerge,” Ryan moaned into the toilet bowl.

"Sweetheart," Nancy murmured distractedly.

Ryan flung a hand up in the air, then clapped it against her thigh in a display of finality. “It will never emerge! I shall now persist with rotting vegetation in my tract for the remainder of my existence.”

Nancy gave a light-hearted click of her tongue. “This,” she hummed, “coming from the woman who refuses to give up on a single other person on earth.”

Ryan attempted to spit the sour taste from her mouth, but her excessive saliva had dried up, leaving her with nothing but a tacky residue that clung to her cheeks like cells held together with collagen. If she’d had more spit, maybe the foul contents of her stomach would have slipped up and out of her by now, instead of sticking to her insides like leeches.

“What makes you the one and only hopeless case on this entire planet, hmm?” Nancy’s eyebrows quirked as she focused on something she’d arranged in her lap, nestled in the folds of her skirt. “What makes you so special?”

Ryan sank back from the toilet, though couldn’t quite get her head to remain straight without supporting it against the side of the bowl. She rubbed miserably at her gut; the chances of producing a physiological benefit were low, but she couldn’t fight the instinct to try. Her mood shifted once she’d realised that her wife was concocting something; not hopeful, but lured back from the brink by scientific intrigue.

Her weary eyes skimmed over a couple of ingredients that Nancy had used to throw together potions over the years, though Ryan had never seen them in this combination before. From her knowledge of Nancy’s works, it seemed to her that the result of this project would be rather… well, explosive would be a word for it.

“An elixir,” Ryan murmured, “to induce emesis?”

“Mmhmm,” Nancy’s voice pulsed in her throat, as though parting her lips to answer would have been too much of a distraction.

Disappointment clouded Ryan’s curiosity, rendering it difficult not to sink into the pains in her stomach, not to feel them so completely that everything else dimmed once again. “It will not be effective on me.”

“What if I told you I have added one very special ingredient,” Nancy said, raising one sardonic eyebrow, “for one very special lady?”

“I would remind you,” Ryan muttered, “that I am not merely a special ‘lady’, but an organism of unnatural qualities, including a resistance to the potency of –”

“In that case, you would have nothing to lose, isn’t that correct, my love?”

Ryan snatched the vial with what was probably excessive force and knocked back the liquid. Something stirred in her memory as she gulped, as though her taste buds had somewhat drifted out of slumber, just for a nanosecond. Mostly, she enjoyed how cool the fluid was as it snaked down her burning throat and carved its steady way down towards her stomach.

“It,” she spat, mouth dry as she lowered the vial, “will be ineffective.”

Nancy wore a patient smile almost as well as she wore a sweetheart neckline. More impressively, even, for Ryan knew that Nancy’s reserves of patience did not run as deep as their boys, or her students, thought. That patient smile was a thing of fine craftsmanship.

“If so,” she said softly, “I apologise. But wasn’t it worth a shot?”

Ryan had to turn her face away to avoid the humbling light of Nancy’s well-fought-for optimism. Her stomach rumbled in acknowledgment of its latest arrival, confirmed even further by a vibration through Ryan’s hand. “I suppose so.”

Nancy stretched her arms above her head, tilting her folded knees to keep her equipment and ingredients from rolling over the tiled floor. “Whew. I for one am mighty tired of this floor, Ry. Mind if we move you to the bed with a bucket instead?”

___

Bed and bucket proved a mundane combination to an immortal woman with work on the brain and an immovable lump in her stomach.

Ryan lay slumped on her side, face right at the edge of the bed so that she could keep an eye on her designated bucket, for so long that the sun set behind the curtains. About six kilometres away, a cricket began to shriek, adding itself to the din of the city. The world moved on, progressed, thrived, while Ryan lay overwhelmed with nausea, unable to digest or eject the offending food.

And yet her stomach continued to grumble its discomfort.

Nancy had stayed awake with her, fondling her hair in a way that reminded Ryan just vaguely of being fussed over by her mother. She wasn’t certain if the memory was welcome or not, and tried to let it wash over her like the tide. Nancy had also massaged Ryan’s back for a while which, whilst failing to dislodge the knots in her stomach, had done wonders for the tension in her muscles.

Gghhhhrrrlllgghh.

“Ssshh,” Ryan hissed, pressing her knuckles harshly against her stomach muscles. The pressure evidently would offer no help in inducing vomiting, but there was nothing to say a little aggression wouldn’t discourage the infuriating noises that continued to –

“Ry,” Nancy chided, closing her fingers around Ryan’s fist and guiding it halfway across the bed. She pressed Ryan's wrist into the top sheet, far away from where it could do any more persuading. “Please don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“It is wearing on my nerves like –”

“I don’t care.” Nancy’s tone prodded at the fog of nausea and rage, and Ryan caught glimpse of herself through her wife’s eyes. “You’re wearing on mine with this nonsense. You’ve put your body through an ordeal already today, and now is the time to let it recover in whatever way it needs. Isn't that the wise thing to do?"

She exhaled noisily through her nose – was that a snort of amusement? – as Ryan’s stomach gurgled and bubbled a few inches from her elbow. Ryan’s brain flared with annoyance, which she quickly threw some reins on.

“Perhaps.”

“There is no ‘perhaps’,” Nancy said. “But you’re already suffering enough bodily, so I won’t put you through the mental torture of admitting that I'm right."

Ryan hummed in appreciation. Nancy didn't let up on her hand, so Ryan eventually turned her palm upwards so that their fingers could interlock. She almost found herself drifting off to sleep when she realised Nancy had shifted and slipped her hand away. Ryan felt her tug a wisp of Ryan's silvery-blonde hair back from her face, heard her wife holding her breath in a way that invited conversation.

“Yes?” Ryan had slurred before Nancy had even spoken.

“Will you try taking a second dose?”

It took Ryan longer than she was proud to admit to realise that Nancy was talking about the elixir she’d concocted earlier. If she thought about it hard enough, Ryan was sure that she could still feel the cool, slightly sticky medicine sitting alongside the offending mush in the pit of her stomach. Not making anything worse, but certainly not improving anything.

Ryan grunted. “I do not think it will –”

“Let me rephrase,” Nancy interrupted. “I have a second dose for you, and I strongly suggest you take it.”

With an even more aggressive grunt, Ryan hauled herself into a somewhat-upright position. It would be easier to take the useless potion than to incite further argument. She winced as the sudden movement made it feel as though her intestines were poised to crack inside of her.

“Give it to me,” she deadpanned, but Nancy was already un-stoppering the vial for her. Ryan slurped it back, fueled by nothing but the assuredness that this was not going to work, and was astonished to find herself licking her lips as soon as she’d swallowed. Even more bizarre, she found herself anticipating the smooth sensation of the medicine coursing down her throat, cooling and almost pleasant in its –

It stuck. It stuck, like a rock in the centre of her chest.

Ryan swallowed again, her posture turning rigid. She was only vaguely aware of Nancy’s hand coming up to rest on her waist.

A bubble of pressure slipped into the back of Ryan’s throat, and her stomach muscles jolted, resulting in a high-pitched exclamation and a thunderous, sloshing gurgle.

And then a belch.

A deep one, one that she felt reverberate under her lower left rib. The moment had a faint gloss of eureka to it, like she’d made a world-changing discovery, but at its core was a pit of dread, like she’d made a world-ending discovery.

She shuddered, torn halfway between turning towards the edge of the bed and turning to face her wife in disbelief.

“What… what’d you –?”

"Don't worry about it, cookie."

"But..."

In her desperate curiosity, Ryan almost choked on a mouthful of vomit. She would have ejected it all over the bedroom floor, had Nancy not laid gentle hands on the sides of her head and directed the spray downwards. There was a conveniently-placed bucket beside the bed, primed to catch and contain her vomit.

The bulk of it, at least.

As the retch had lost momentum, a small wave of thick slime had dripped from Ryan’s lower lip, hitting the floorboards between the bed and the bucket with a weighty thwop.

“Wonderful,” Ryan choked out, swiping her chin with the back of her hand. She barely had time to consider where she was going to wipe said hand when her guts gave another powerful lurch.

This time, a delicate hand slipped across the bed and tugged the rim of the bucket closer to Ryan’s side of the mattress. Nancy’s chest and stomach brushed softly against Ryan’s back.

“Great job,” Nancy murmured softly.

Ryan would have scoffed, if she’d been able to catch her breath. Great job? Great job suffering through the consequences of a bad decision? Great job smearing the hardwood with her gastric juices? She was not a child; even a child shouldn’t have been praised for anything she was doing.

Ryan cried out instinctively as she gagged again, the hollow ring of her voice echoing loudly inside the metal bucket over the gushing and splashing. She felt Nancy’s hands move to her shoulders, fingers lightly massaging the tumultuous muscles there.

"Oh," Ryan sighed as soon as she could get a word in between heaves. The mechanical harmony of clenching muscles and ejected fluids was almost as comforting as her wife's touch. After all, what could be more reassuring than the knowledge that one's body is working as it should?

"Better?" Nancy whispered, using her pinky to fish a pale curl away from the edge of Ryan's mouth.

Ryan hung her head over the side of the mattress, slack-jawed, unwilling to close her mouth and risk inhibiting further substance elimination. Nancy shifted her hands as though to hold her in place, and although she wasn't, Ryan found she was rather enjoying the illusion.

"Yes," she slurred, though she knew her ordeal was far from over. "Ineffably so."

#StW Ryan #StW Nancy #sickfic #emeto #emeto sickfic #vampire emeto #vampire sickfic #vampire whump #vampire OC #sickfic blog #emeto blog #emetophilia #vampire kink #stomach kink #whump #fantasy emeto #fantasy sickfic #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort

[sickmeds]

— into the woods , a short random piece

tw: emeto

He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering, and the water slips down the bones of his cheeks. It’s warm, tingling, a soft hum that pickles along his skin, palms resting against the cold tiles. His head bows down, soft locks falling across his face, muscles shifting stiffly, bending, shoulders hunching, lips parting.

Nothing happens, besides the soft groan that falls, drowned by the spray of the shower. It echoes in his ears, filling the space, and his throat burns.

A heavy breath of air, his muscles relax, eyebrows furrowed and creasing along his skin as he slowly pushes up, leaning back, running fingers through his hair and letting the water spill into his mouth. He spits, hair falling back, matting on to his forehead as his thumb and forefinger massage the bridge of his nose.

Leaning back into the spray, he swallows, warm water trickling down his throat.

A soft burp pushes its way up from his chest, lungs crackling, expanding and sinking, and his eyes close. Off , not right , strange – all of which had evolved into this moment, as his palms press back against the wall, unbalanced between clammy and wet, a low, shuddering breath.

Apprehension clings to the shake in his legs, the almost unnoticeable tremor except , except as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his ankles strain, muscles twinging, and something shifts dangerously in the tilt of his stomach.

A thick swallow, and the tang of something hot, bitter, lingering in the back of his throat as he exhales through his nose, scratchy, breathy, inhaling deep and slow. He’s not scared, not quite, in the silence and space of his empty house.

A gurgle, that turns more like a growl, and a hand drops to rest lightly on the muscles of his stomach, gingerly pressing to the frothing magnitude of the flipping, inside his body. A groan follows quickly, shifting, stretching, leaning further over, nails digging into the plaster between the tiles until a sharp pain shoots up his knuckles.

“Uhhrk,’ His face crumples, its soft tan warmed by the light of the bathroom, yet stricken pale in a sickly manner that resonates in the gloss of water lingering in his eyes. His breath catches in a low pant, a gurgle beneath his hand, and a dry retch crawls shakily up his throat.

Only half aware of the water still spilling down his back, running between the creases of his skin, trailing along the tensing of his muscles, there’s a groan from the piping and a soft click, as the water begins to grow colder, from the hot steamy warmth to a lukewarm, that sends a shiver down his spin.

He licks his lips, dry, swallowing, braced on the wall and his head presses momentarily on his arm, leaning on himself as if the urge to crumple was not there ( but it was , arms aching , straining with the effort ).

It wasn’t the physical act that brought a shallow breath and a pang of fear slipping through his heart, although even on a good day he cringed at the thought. It was the fact he didn’t know why. He couldn’t remember eating anything that had tasted funny, he had been careful to order oatmilk in his morning coffee, and the strange clinging nausea had not arrived until mid afternoon, sitting at the old oak table in the kitchen sipping on tea.

It was sudden - the glimmer of sweat accumulated on his collar, rubbing his palms against his jeans, blinking wearily at the laptop screen as it lagged for the fifth time that day, the small circle in the corner going round and round and round. And the frustrated huff of air that escaped his lips, palms pressed into the cavern of his eyes, had come with a swooping sense of dread.

Then it only grew, from a strange wooziness that he thought was simply tiredness, to the last drop of tea in the cup that he struggled to swallow, and found himself wrapping a protective arm around his stomach as it attempted to digest his lunch. A chicken sandwich that tasted good.

So confusion crawled restlessly across his skin until everything was a little too uncomfortable, and he pushed aside any thoughts of completing the last few tasks, including the dishes in the sink that had been glaring at him all morning, and wandered slowly through the cabin to his bedroom.

And now , now –

He burps, bile splashing at the back of his throat and his palm slips on the wall. He swallows automatically, a shuddering breath, jaw clenching, breathing heavily.

“Nnng..” A groan slips past his lips, a tear soaked breath , arm wrapping fully around his stomach. It’s sloshing, tumbling, a tremor through his spine.

He’s alone . It’s okay .

A twinge in his stomach that turns to a wet retch, and his shoulders lurch up to his chin, squeezing his eyes shut against the trickle of sour liquid that stings in his throat and joins the spray of the shower head.

Panting, hands gripping his thighs, nails digging into his skin. A shallow, unrestrained burp, and his stomach lurches with a dangerous flop . Shivering, his eyes flutter open for a second, as a deep growl emits from the caves of his belly, and it seems to swallow him whole.

He feels like jelly — stumbling, gasping, and it cuts off into a heave that sends him entirely over the plug , and a thick wave of digested food erupts from his mouth.

His eyes slam shut , but not before the dark dregs of his stomach were ingrained into his head. It sends a throbbing ache into his stomach, as if only now it was catching up, as if it was all in the wrong order, and burps a mouthful of puke into the shallow water.

The shower is cold , freezing , but now he can’t move , now he’s stuck , thighs cramping in time with his stomach as he crouches down , gripping the edge of the bath.

A groan emits from his stomach, mimicked by his voice, and his hand splashes into the shower water as his balance shifts, narrowly avoiding falling forwards as a harsh retch turns productive.

He’s dragging in a breath before a burst of warm vomit joins the water, and he has a moment to be grateful it’s slipping away down the drain before he’s gagging, stomach churning, spilling liquid from his belly,

“What the fuck,” he mumbles, coughing, and retches. “ .. fuck.”

It burns, aching his throat, darkening the cold water still streaming overhead ( and it’s almost nice , he knows it shouldn’t be , goosebumps on his skin ).

The nausea clings like sweat on his skin, as he gags into the empty air, pushing hair from his eyes with trembling hands. A dry heave, and another, and his stomach protests the motion. He can feel it, still simmering, sloshing away, refusing to come up.

An actual shiver now, buried in his bones and a moan follows, curling his arms protectively around his stomach. He waits, moments ticking by and nothing happens, just that same queasy feeling from before licking at his heels like flames.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his fingers clamber on the edge of the bath, dragging himself up. A shaking hand bumps at the handle, turning it off, and he’s standing, watching the last of the water drain out, cold and shivering.

Cautiously wrapping a towel around his waist, his throat feels thick and heavy, like his stomach, and he hesitates, hovering between the bed in the other room and staying there.

Awkward, unsteady, he fills a glass left on the side with water and washes the taste from his mouth - like gauze on a wound he knew would be reopened ( it was only a matter of time ) .

Finally, salty tears spill over , rubbing the soft towel against his cheeks, they trickle, falling in soft raindrops of misery like gentle strokes down his skin. His fingers bury in the towel, tugging it closer and closer, wrapping himself up like a cocoon and edging towards the door.

He was alone. Alone, but not longer sure he wanted to be.

His tongue runs along lips, as his fingers shift, a slow maneuver, tugging soft linen from the dark oak draws along his damp skin. Tartan pattern and cotton, cool and fresh and he shivers, climbing into the white sheets, dragging the towel with him.

#emeto #emeto warning #sickfic #when you have no name for an oc so you stick them in a shower and hope it comes to you #breaking news just in .. it didn’t #thinking of a pretty man living in the woods #dark cottage core style #sketching and creating fantasy monsters for a living #emeto scenario #emeto fic #emetophilia #sicknario

[nat-1-whump]

🌱 Introduction

Hello! My name's Aspen, and welcome to my writing blog!

I mainly made this blog to share fantasy writing prompts and ideas, especially hurt/comfort, though I may also dabble in other writing related things.

There probably won't be a lot of explicit stuff here, either romantic or sexual, though I will tag it and add warnings if I do end up sharing anything NSFW. Please let me know if you need something specific tagged!

... And I think that's about it! Idk, I still have no idea how to operate a writing blog lol but we'll see where this goes.

(Please note that I sometimes save things in my drafts before reblogging them. I promise I'm not stalking you or scrolling through your profile. It was just sitting in my drafts since I first found it and I eventually decided I couldn't leave it there.)

#blog intro #hurt/comfort #sickfic #whump #writing prompts #writeblr #writing blog #whump community #fantasy writing prompts #fantasy writing #fantasy whump #fantasy hurt/comfort

[the-duchess-of-domination]

Thanksgiving

here is a Thanksgiving fantasy to put you all in the mood.

your boyfriend is a people pleaser who has a hard time saying no. he fears disappointing people, and because of that you’ve got quite the line-up of Thanksgiving dinner invites: Friendsgiving with your mutual friends, Thanksgiving with his folks, Thanksgiving at your parent’s, a Thanksgiving dinner at his work. it’s a week long affair, and you’ve even got multiple dinners in one day with little time to recover. you slave away in the kitchen, making a new dish to bring to each dinner. your boyfriend, of course, is your taste tester.

the first dinner at your parent’s house is uneventful. this is his first holiday with your family, so he wants to make a good impression. he fervently eats anything that is put in front of him, and even though he doesn’t have room left for your mother’s sweet potato pie, he eats two slices.

the next day his work is having a Thanksgiving dinner. he brings you to meet his coworkers, and he wants to schmooze and charm them so much he takes a helping of Tanya’s mash potatoes, Carl’s filling, Genevieve’s green bean casserole. Not wanting to offend anyone, he fills a flimsy paper plate with so much food that it begins to bend. against all odds, every bite ends up in his rapidly tightening belly.

now it’s Thanksgiving Day, and you’ve got his family’s Thanksgiving in the early afternoon and your mutual Friendsgiving in the evening. your boyfriend’s mother gives him hearty scoops. that’s her little boy, after all. your boyfriend is noticeably petering out, but he doesn’t want to make his mother worry. he finishes his plate with an achingly full stomach, trained from the days of when he was a kid and wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table without finishing his supper.

when it’s time for you to head to your Friendsgiving, you drive, and he sits in the passenger seat with his head against the headrest, wincing and cringing at every pothole you hit.

“you okay?” you ask him. “you’ve been awfully quiet.”

“yeah. just tired.” he lies.

at Friendsgiving, he listlessly plays with his turkey, pushing it around his plate with a fork, an elbow on the table and a hand supporting his head. while he doesn’t empty the plate, he hardly has anything to scrape into the trash.

when everyone retires to the living room, your boyfriend disappears. you search your friend’s house and see the bathroom door is closed. you knock.

“honey?” you say.

“hm?” your boyfriend replies.

“can i come in?”

“one sec.”

when you enter your boyfriend is sitting on the edge of the tub. he stands up quickly.

“what are you doing in here?” you ask.

“i just needed a minute.”

you look down to see a sliver of his white underwear. he zips up his fly, and sucks in his distended stomach to button his pants.

“are you okay?”

“yeah. it’s nothing. i just have a stomachache.”

you find this adorable. in an effort to get on everyone’s good side, to flatter them by eating their food, your boyfriend has given himself a terrible bellyache.

while your friends laugh over a card game at the coffee table, your boyfriend is distracted on the sofa, rubbing his stomach through the pocket of his hoodie. you put your hand in the pocket and start rubbing his belly, touching his cold hand with your warm one. his poor belly is hard and tight from everything he’s eaten in the past four days.

“does it hurt bad?” you whisper, and when he nods you say “do you want to leave early?”

he shakes his head. “we’re supposed to be having fun with our friends. i don’t want us to leave on my account.”

a mutual friend brings over a slice of pumpkin pie topped with whip cream. she offers it to your boyfriend. in horror you watch your boyfriend beam a fake smile and then graciously take the plate from her. the fork goes in his mouth. you feel his body shudder and his stomach growl angrily against your hand

what will Christmas bring?

#tummy ache #belly gurgling #belly ache #feedee feeder #feedee boy #feeding kink #male feedism #bloating kink #bhm weight gain #ffa bhm #stuffed feedee #your boyfriend #sickfic #fantasies from the duchess 👑

[caleb-alfa-centauri]

Baby's tum-tum hurts

BTS Sope Sick fic/ Little space

Warning: Sick fic, Hoseok in little space and out of it. Yoongi his boyfriend and caretaker. Past trauma, abuse, and safe little space.

Mention of emeto, abdominal pain, cramping, scat, burping, explicit diarrhea description. Non sexual, non kinky. Abdominal medical and doctor play examination. Medical mentioned. Doctors medical devices, sad baby, bloated belly, gassy, noisy tummy, Hurt-comfort.

Summary:

Hoseok wakes up early to go to work, Yoongi is having a bath, but Hoseok discovers he doesn't feel good. His stomach hurts a lot, and whenever he feels sick, his coping mechanism is to go into little space.

Yoongi is his boyfriend, and when his boyfriend is in little space, he makes the role as an older brother, who takes care of baby Hobi.

Yoongi knows his boyfriend would slip into his little space mindset when he is tired, overwhelmed, sad, or most common sick.

Hoseok had woken up, as soon as he try to sit in bed, he felt sick all over, his stomach hurt a lot, he felt nauseated, and his abdomen was cramping badly.

He returned to bed, and knowing he had an awesome partner, boyfriend and caretaker, he left himself slip into his little space. Little Hobi felt so sick, he curled in a ball, and began to sob quietly.

Yoongi had went out the shower, and he couldn't find his boyfriend in the kitchen, usually je would be making breakfast for both, or trying to shower as well. He walk to the bed, fearing his boyfriend was sick.

"Baby?" He asked noticing the younger one still in bed.

"Yoonie?" The little one asked, it was a name for Yoongi, when Hobi was in little space head. "Yoon...." The little baby sob.

Yoongi understood his little one was sick, but he didn't knew how severe it was. He needed to call in sick for both, but he couldn't call their work, until he knew what was ailing his baby boy.

"Baby Hobi, what's wrong my little baby?" He asked even softer, he say beside Hobi in bed. The little boy had his arms surrounding his torso. "Tell Hyungie what's wrong...."

"Hyungie....Yoonie... Hobi's tum-tum hults...." The little one said, his voice sad.

"Oh no, again? Baby, come here, Yoonie will take care of it for you, probably you just had something bad for dinner, with a tummy rub and medicine we can solve it. " Yoongi told him patiently, soft and caring. "Come here, sit on Hyungie's legs, here I can rub your small baby tum-tum."

Hobi moved outside the bed, the little one sat on his Hyungie's legs where he felt safe, but when Yoongi was about to touch his abdomen to see the damage, the little poor baby, who was so sick, couldn't even tell his older brother, his tummy was hurting to much.

Baby Hobi felt his belly churning,he could feel a lot of movement, bubbling and pain before it happened. He heard his tummy going Wilde with awful noises.

Yoongi heard the bubbling coming loud and strong from his little one's tummy, and the next thing he knew was his poor baby, was having explosive diarrhea on top of both.

The brown hot gush of liquid came from little Hobi's butt, in seconds both were covered with the little one's diarrhea fluids.

Hobi began to cry hard, the little one kept on sobbing and screaming his lungs, his tummy felt so bad, he couldn't stop from whaling.

Yoongi had to carry him to the bath tube, they shower and bathed, then he cleaned their clothes and bed sheets, he replaced them for other ones, and when they were clean and done, he brought his little one to the bed, Hobi had a diaper, and a pajama with bears,the t-shirt was a children shirt he loved wearing in little space. But his tummy was so bloated the shirt was all stretched out. He had stopped crying at least.

"Yoon Hyungie....Hobi is sorry... tummy ouchie...poo poo came ...sorry..." He said shyly.

"Don't worry baby, is not my little baby's fault. Baby Hobi's poor and sick tum-tum needs medicine. How are you feeling baby? Is it too painful?" Yoongi asked, he smile warmly but he was worrying like crazy. He hate watching his little one in pain, and he was tired from cleaning the diarrhea.

Hobi nod so sad. "Yoonie, Hobi's tum-tum hurts. .." the little one said his little hands on top of his distended tummy. Even though he was sad, even in little space Hobi was always positive and happy, so he had try to smile for his Hyungie who he loved so much. "Tum-tum...roars....gurg....gurg... tummy is angy..."

When Yoongi had bathed his little one, he had noticed how distended was his poor stomach, the baby boy had a canon ball for stomach, a bowling ball on the stomach, or even a pregnant looking abdomen. This concerned him a lot. His baby Hobi was bloated and so swollen. And the poor abdominal surface kept on producing awful sounds.

"Baby Hobi's tum-tum needs to be seen by a doctor. Baby I'll make a tummy doctor appointment again, so you can have that poor sick painful tummy examine again, I'll call your special doctor, he has to listen to this angry tummy. Yes baby?" Yoongi told his little one, he was sitting beside the poor distended boy.

"No Yoonie, pwease no....Hobi don wan to.... Doctors hult... tum-tum.....nooo pwease no..." The small child complain miserable. The poor baby hated his "tummy doctor" his gastroenterologist knew about his little space and treated him like a baby boy. But he hated having his tummy all examine everywhere around and on the inside.

In all that time his poor sick belly haven't stop from doing all those awful sick sounds. Everything was moving inside of his small but distended poor tummy.

"Oh, don't cry baby, Yoonie needs to take his baby to the tummy doctor. Can you hear that baby?" He asked concerned he placed his ear delicate over his baby's poor ballooned stomach.

Hobi nod. "Is Hobi's tum-tum...my tum-tum is noisy....Yoonie.... tum-tum doesn't feels good...." He said, his baby hands pressed against the noisy big abdomen. "Yoonie....is Hobi pwegnant ...? Hobi's tum-tum is so big...." Hobi said excited, he was so curious he was drumming his baby bloated massively distended abdomen like a little drum, using little hands.

Yoongi giggled at his little one curiosity and imagination, Hoseok was always so full or energy, curiosity and excitement even been sick. "No sweetheart, Hobi is just full of air, your tum-tum is so sick, it bloated, so that's why you are so big, little Hobi's tum-tum looks like a balloon." Yoongi kiss the boy in his tiny head and then on the big tummy. "You know why Hobi's tum-tum is so loud baby? Why it has inflated so much? And why it keeps moving so much and hurting?" Yoongi asked to convinced him.

The big tummy gurgling madly, the baby's cheeks turned red. He hated his tum-tum growling.

"tum-tum is sick?" He asked. The baby boy understood Yoongi's point of view.

"Yes my poor baby, little Hobi's tum-tum is so sick, that's why you are having diarrhea too." Yoongi said. Hobi nodded.

"Yoon, Hobi don wanna have tum-tum so sick... tummy ouchie.." .the little one said drumming still his distended abdominal cavity. "Yoonie ... Hobi is afraid....doctor hurts Hobi or tum-tum?"

Yoongi relaxed his baby wasn't crying any longer. He was curious asking. "Want us to play tummy doctor, so you know what your tummy doctor is going to do?" Yoongi Asked having an idea.

Hoseok was excited, he clapped his little handsies. "Yes Yoon Hyun ...Hobi wanna play doctor....."

Yoongi had a medical equipment it was from his cousin who was a doctor, so he placed on the white rob, and using the real stethoscope, he took baby Hobi to other room, where there was an individual bed for guests, and that was just cover with a white sheet to simulate a doctor's examining table.

Yoongi carried his baby, and placed him in the middle of pf the bed. He took a chair next to it. His baby was laughing through the pain, he loved playing doctor.

"Now once we are inside the tummy doctor office, in a bed like this one, the doctor will ask questions. Like this. Little baby Hobi, how is your tummy? Do you have pain? Tummy troubles? Do you have nausea, diarrhea or vomit?"

"I see Yoonie....Yes Doctol Yoons... Hobi tum-tum is so sick....Tum is big... Hults...is noisy....moves a lot....and Hobi did poo poo before...." Hobi the cute boy said playing doctor with his Yoonie Huingie.

"Perfect, that was easy..."

"Is that all?" Hobi asked unsure and excited thinking it was over.

"No my cute baby, my baby boy, next is examining Hobi's poor tummy...."

Hobi was sad again. "Does it hults?"

"No baby, look, as Hobi's poor tummy makes a lot of bad tummy noises, your tummy doctor needs to hear your tummy, he will placed a little device, that is cold but it doesn't hurts, over baby's tum-tum, he will listen all those tummy sounds...." Yoongi explained patiently.

"How Yoonie? Are you also going to listen inside .... Hobi's noisy tum-tum?" The little one asked confused.

"Yes, let's begin, your Doctor will ask you to uncover your pretty stomach. Baby Hobi, can I uncover your tummy to listen inside?" Yoongi asked he placed the stethoscope on, and lifted showing it to Hobi.

"it hurts?"

"No baby, is just cold...." Yoongi said.

His little one nod. And placed his little hands at the sides of his body, so his Yoonie could move his clothes.

He uncovered his little one's horribly distended abdominal surface, his poor baby Hobi's abdomen was so big, it inflated worst, with each breath, the rounded big swollen and protruding stomach, was bursting from how big it had inflated all inside.

Yoongi even had to open his baby's diaper, so he could also hear the most lower belly. The little ones stomach kept on producing horrible abdominal sick noises everywhere and each time he breath.

Hobi was nervous looking how his Hyungie's hands rolled his t-shirt up, he noticed his tummy looked so bad. "Yoonie... tum-tum is so big...is it ugly?" He asked poking his tummy that trembled like jelly.

"No sweetheart, Hobi's tum-tum is the cutest thing, I promise, it's just that, Hobi has a balloon tummy right now, but doctor would also like Hobi's tummy." Yoongi said lying, he felt distress noticing how big his little one's tummy was, all sick and hugely expanded. "Hobi's tummy sounds like a drum or a balloon." he said drumming carefully and soft his baby's poor ballooned stomach it bounced and jumped everywhere. "Doctor will have fun curing your tummy sweetheart."

The child again laugh watching his tummy being drummed in and producing drumming echoes. "Now baby, I'll hear inside, please don't move, and don't talk, Doctor Yoons need silence to listen inside his Hobi." Yoongi took the cold stethoscope that was already warm, and placed it on top of the big abdominal cavity, there he could hear. The turmoil inside his baby boy. He listened everywhere. On his navel, the lower belly, his huge sides, his top belly, and mostly over his bowels.

The little one was curious watching his aching tummy being listen inside with the weird machine. He was quiet and not moving, he felt how the small cold metallic object slides through his balloon stomach. He felt a little shy, he knew his Yoonie Hyungie was listening attentively all those awful noises his tummy did. He felt a little embarrassed.

"Want to hear inside yourself?" Yoongi moved the apparatus to his baby's ears, the small child was excited, big open eyes, gasping in excitement. "Yoonie,.... tum-tum.....noises.....bubbles..... Hobi tum-tum is so mad, is grumpy...."

Baby Hobi have never heard something so awesome he heard bubbling, rumbling, water and bubbles everywhere.

Ones Yoongi finished listening inside his little baby tummy, he continue. "Baby, ones your tummy doctor has finished hearing inside, he needs to touch Hobi's sick and big tum-tum. He will press, touch, poke, prode, and sink his fingers on baby Hobi's tum-tum jelly big surface, like this." Yoongi said explaining everything to his baby sick boy.

"Ow Yoonie, tum-tum hurts.....Does Hobi tummy doc has to listen to my tum-tum? Does he need to touch Hobi in his tum-tum?" The little one said drumming still his stomach.

"Yes, but why baby?" Yoongi said he had stopped palpitations over his poor baby boy's sick and swollen abdominal cavity.

"Tum-tum is big so Hobi is shy ..." The little one admitted feeling shy. "Tum-tum is so noisy..... Tum-tum is so sick....Hobi is embarrassed..... tum-tum so sick, having Tum like this ... Makes Hob nervous..."

"I know baby is uncomfortable but no one expects Hobi to have a healthy Tum baby, Hobi goes to his tummy doctor when he is sick. So doctor would be there expecting us, with you, with the sickest tummy ever. He understands Hobi tummy does noises and is big because baby is sick. In fact Hobi is sensitive in the tummy, so that's why we already have a specialized doctor for your tum sweetheart. He already has listen that cute tummy."

"Okay....Yoonie can we still play doctor before going to real tum-tum doc?" The little one asked.

"Yes my baby.... Then the next step is palpation, doctor would need to feel those organs inside Hobi's tummy so he will press like this everywhere...." Yoongi began to press his baby tummy lightly and feeling each organ inside, moving in circles his hands, all the way from the top, to the lower tummy.

"Ar we done?" Baby asked believing it to be all it was left....

"No my baby, Doctor then needs to drum Hobi's balloony tummy, he needs to drum your cute little drum belly.... It helps doctor asses Hobi's poor tummy condition...."

Hobi was laughing again. "I like...Hyungie ...you drumming my tum-tum..... do it! Pwease play with Hobi's Tum....pwease!" The little one was clapping his hands excitedly.

"Then Hobi, can you breath in, and hold the air inside tum-tum, I want to see that tum-tum-tum getting bigger baby, inflate more that cute balloonie abdomen, all round and cute.....yes like that, hold in like that, come on baby, I know Hobi can do this... Baby boy push the tummy out.....Good boy!"

Hobi was so happy he loved playing with his Hyung, and he loved having the tummy so big, he had began to enjoy having a little balloon shape in his tum-tum. "Hobi is a good boy...." He said pushing even more his noisy and sick huge abdomen......"

Yoongi got even more concerned with the shape it got. It grew so much, and he got even more concerned he had never seen that size on his baby's abdominal distentions over the years.

"Baby close your eyes for me..." Hobi obey, and when he closed his eyes, he took a photograph,he needed his baby's abdomen in display so sick like that to show his baby's tummy special doctor. "Now don't move, Yoonie is going to measure that cute little stomach baby."

Baby Hobi opened his eyes and nod. He was happy watching how his Hyungie measured his belly, placing a tape measure device, under his back and surrounding all his protuberant abdomen.

"New record baby, Hobi's tummy is so big....you can stop pushing now, it must hurt, let me go for something quickly wait here."

Baby nod. Hobi lay there, with his diapers a little open at the waist, and all abdominal in display, he filled the room with his awful abdominal sick noises. He was farting like crazy, but at least he wasn't pooping his diapers yet.

Yoongi had went and called his doctor assistant. Jimin, was Doctor Seokjin's assistant. He ask all the information. Yoongi send the picture,the recording he had take, and the measurements of his little one's abdomen. The doctor said he was so sick, he make a little space to see one of his favorite patient. He said to bring him in after meal time, to see the baby's tummy reactions to his meal, he needed to have a full belly to see if he continue pooping or vomiting.

Yoongi returned to see the room smelled like rotten eggs, and little Hobi was sad. "What's wrong baby? Baby farted? Tummy is so sick right baby?"

Hobi nodded with his cheeks flushed. "Hobi is stinky...." He said and a tear rolled.

"No baby, is just that Hobi tummy is so sick. Tell the doctor your tummy is gassy, he needs to know how bad little Baby's farts smell...." He said rubbing his little one's belly, the big ballooned stomach sagging like jelly.

"Doctor need to know Hobi farts stink?" He asked confused.

"Yes baby, he needs to know, so he can understand why baby's stomach is sick and hurts. Now let's continue, I'll drum your little belly, as the doctor will."

Hobi got happy he clapped his hands. "Yes Hobi loves when Yoonie drums tum-tum..."

Yoongi began to drum more lightly than the doctor would do it. He playful drum his little baby in his cute but sick big tummy. Each time the poor abdominal distended cavity jumped, his belly sagged, trembled and bounced like a real ball. Baby Hobi at first was enjoying the drumming noises, but soon he felt pressure inside.

Yoongi heard how when he drum on the little stomach, the noises came worst, and the tummy bounced to much. He had never seen his baby this sick before.

Each time his hand collided with the naked abdominal sick shape, little Baby Hobi would burp, or fart even more.

"yoonie.... tum-tum jumps! Tum-tum....jumps....* The baby said noticing how his poor belly moved all over the place. "Doctor will make Hobi's tum-tum jump?"

Yoongi smiled warmly to this little one who was curious. "Yes, probably because Hobi's tummy is so big, it bounces, my poor baby has currently a little ball for stomach, you are so gassy baby, do you want to go to the bathroom?"

The little boy denied. "Yoonie ... That's all tum-tum needs?" Hobi asked watching his stomach inflate and deflate still naked, and still rumbling so angry.

"Yes baby, once that is done, Doctor will know hot to cure your little stomach.

The child laughed again at ease even though he had a lot of pain, and he couldn't stop farting rotten eggs.

Yoongi had to open a window without his little one noticing it, the stench spoke of how sick was baby Hobi's poor tummy.

Yoongi had also message Seokjin their doctor, about the gassy belly, the stench, the horrible flatulence episodes his baby was having.

The doctor asked to listen to it, and to the baby's stomach, so Yoongi asked his baby.

"Baby, tummy doctor wants to hear your tummy, how about we call him, so he can see and hear little Hobi's sick tum-tum. He loves having sick bellies to examine, he will love yours ..."

"Really? He loves my tum-tum-tum like this?" The innocent kid asked excited, not knowing it was to hear his farts, and his noisy abdominal noises.

"Yes, baby. Shall we?"

The baby nodded. Yoongi used his computer to video call his Gastroenterologist Seokjin, he placed de laptop on baby's Hobi legs, from there Seokjin could see the child with the most protuberant abdomen he had ever seen the little one with, and also he could hear the most awful noises a stomach ever made, the farting was constantly, and he could listen clearly how the little one's farts wounded wet horrendous, and long. He understood the little one was suffering with an awful pain.

Once th video call ended, Seokjin instructed Yoongi to skip the meal, and to bring inmidiatly the little one to his personal office.

"Baby, doctor was so excited with your cute stomach, he said he wants to examine you now. Lest get ready to go to your Tummy Doctor appointment." Yoongi said sadly.

The baby nodded still bothered with the cramping the abdominal pains, and farting. Yoongi dressed him again closing the diapers, placing on some pants, and a hoodie, then he took extra clothes, diapers, and cleaning supplies. He carry his baby and took him to the hospital.

They already knew the little one, they had been attending him, ever since he first was sick I'm little space, so Hobi felt safe there, no one judge the little baby.

Yoongi went in with his sick baby boy. He placed the kid on the examination table. Seokjin asked Yoongi to undressed him and he did. Hobi was at ease because he already knew that would happen.

Seokjin began to listen to the bays stomach, but when the palpation began, Hobi began to sob so hard. Yoonie had lie to him, his tummy was so sore and big it hurted so much, and Seokjin was trying to press more lightly but still he needed to assess the bloated abdomen.

"Don't cry baby...."

"Yoonie say it won't hurt tum-tum..." The little one whined.

The doctor spend a lot of time palpating the baby's poor stomach. Hobi felt so sad, he wanted to stop, but for some reason the doctor kept pushing inside his tummy.

"Baby, your belly is so sick, it is big, I can't asses you that well. What did Hobi ate to have his stomach this big and sick?" Seokjin asked.

"He ate normally what he would, but yesterday Hoseok went to a party and probably he ate something he should have not." Yoongi explained. His baby was farting so bad the doctor understood finally the stench Yoongi had mentioned, he didn't say anything.

"Had Hobi's stomach being sounding like this?" The doctor asked again.

"Yes, all morning....he had diarrhea." Yoongi said.

When the doctor was trying to drum his belly, the baby sob harder, it hurts his tummy so bad, and he had diarrhea without noticing all the diaper ended up full in his diarrhea fluids.

Yoongi cleaned his baby, and put him a new diaper. The doctor continue examining him.

"That's it?" Yoongi asked ..

Hobi felt so sad, nothing was the way he had expected it to be. Everything was wrong with his tummy doctor appointment. All Yoongi played with him and explained to him was different.

"No, I have never seen him this sick before. I think he has a gastrointestinal strong virus or infection. He needs to stay so we can keep him under strict vigilance. First, I need you to feed Hobi his meal, a light, digestible meal, liquid diet, I'll give you a private room, and there they would take his meal. I need to do other abdominal examination once he is digesting the meal, to see how his tummy reacts to it."

Yoongi nodded, he already knew Hobi needed to be hospitalized. He had appreciated the private hospital room, as not all people understood Hobi when he was in little space, and he didn't want anything to alter, cause more distress or embarrassed his little one.

Hobo felt sad, he understood he needed to stay at hospital so he began to cry.

Once they had been moved to the room, Hobi was placed in the bed, some devices minoring his signs, and an IV connected to his little hand.

He was sobbing quietly, he didn't want to upset Yoonie, his poor Hyungie. His little but bloated stomach hurt so much, and they have him just in his diapers, because of the fever he had.

"Yoon....Hobi....wan to go home....." He said sadly.

"I know baby, but your tummy doctor wants you to eat, so he can examine you again on a full tummy, to see if you are digesting correctly." He explained to his baby, he sat beside the bed and he kept rubbing his tummy. The stomach kept on gurgling angry.

"No Yoonie....No. Hobi need more examinations? Why? Why with tum-tum full?" The little one asked.

"Yes baby. Because he needs to listen again your tummy but working, digesting food, to see if you still have diarrhea or grassy bowels ..." He explained to his baby boy.

"If Hobi has tum-tum examine..... Hobi can go home?" The little one ask again.

"Yes baby."

When the food arrived, Yoongi fees his baby the liquid diet, soups, liquids and more liquids. The baby ate and drank everything, his poor little tummy bloated more, his tummy was worst, the noises it did were unstoppable and unhealthy. His little stomach had became a gurgling burbling pot. He was so swollen, and full of liquids that each time the baby breath, or move, his tummy sloshed all around and inside.

Seokjin returned back to the room, he closed the door, and was shocked to find his little patient more sick than before, the little one's abdomen had grow and double the size. It was even more noisy, and seemingly for the child's tears, also painful.

Seokjin struggled to examine again, each time he placed the stethoscope, the noises would distorted. Then pressing his stomach and palpating it proves to be imposible, ad the little one had a lot of pain and whine each time his massive abdomen was touch. Finally he try to drum his abdomen, it was the most painful, embarrassing and uncomfortable experience for baby Hobi's tum-tum. He felt the pressure, and also saw how his stomach sound worst, all sick, and sloshed each time the doctor hit his tummy making it bounce up and down.

Hobo finally relaxed believing it was over, but for his bad luck and frustration his hospital trip was barely beginning. "His stomach is so big, noisy and sick, I couldn't examine him properly, we will need to do, lab examination, imagery examinations, scans, an ultrasound and probably he will need to spend the night, the virus he has is really strong one .

Hobo cried so hard when Yoongi explained his little one, what was needed. He was so sad and afraid, they drew out his blood, his pee and poop were taken in samples to be examined, and the worst part was, he needed to have his stomach naked under some strange machine that was the x-rays, then his stomach was scanned with a noisy machine, and finally Seokjin ultrasound his tummy, the baby boy had his tummy so big, the ultrasound looks if he was expecting a child, from how huge his poor stomach was.

He spend all the rest pf the afternoon and night, with bad diarrhea, vomits, horrible noisy, bassy, smelly and rotten farts. His gassy belly was producing a lot of air and gas inside so he looked like a balloon the next day.

He cry so much, and Yoongi remained by his side, rubbing his baby boy's tum-tum softly, giving it kisses. Cleaning him from diarrhea or vomit episodes, and trying to make him eat or drink water.

Like that the baby spend other morning and in the afternoon he was finally left to go home. Still with a lot of medicine, with the strongest intestinal viral infection he had ever had. But with sweet Yoongi taking care of him.

The end.

#abdominal auscultation #abdominal examination #belly expansion #bloated stomach #bts fanfic #fanfic #fantasy #fiction #my writing #writing #bts sickfic #sick!hoseok #sick hoseok #bts sick #sickfic #caretaker!yoongi #bts sope fanfic #sick hobi #little space #mental regression #age regressor #little one #tummy ache #full tummy #stomach sounds #big stomach #upset stomach #stomach growling #stomach ache #stething

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Made With Love

Final Fantasy XVI | 1.7k words | Onehsot, complete. Dion Lesage/Terence | Pre-canon, sickfic, fluff.

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The cook had called in sick that morning. Terence and the two maids ended up breaking last night’s bread for their first meal of the day. Prince Dion still took to his bed, sick with grippe for more than a week now, though fortunately recovering well enough to take in bites of food in between his rest. 

Lucy grumbled about how unfair it was for the prince to be sent away during this moment of illness, but His Radiance’s orders were clear: the infant Prince Olivier’s health and safety came first and foremost. So they complied with the Imperial Word, and temporarily stayed at a summer resthouse behind Whitewyrm Castle to wait out the end of Dion’s contagion. While it was no doubt a sound decision by all means, Terence couldn’t help but agree with Lucy’s sentiment.

“What do we do? The kitchen staff’s hands are tied, with the upcoming banquet and all,” Marié huffed, rummaging the cupboards for any ingredients they could use for a hot meal. “Maybe I should go to the market again? They’ll probably have some ingredients to spare.”

“Please do so,” Terence agreed. “Lucy, please fetch some more water from the well. I’ll go check on His Highness.”

“Yes, sir.” After they both left, the house was quiet once more. Terence lined up what they had just gathered from the mostly-empty pantry: half a jar of water, an almost-empty bottle of ale, a couple of potatoes, half a turnip and some leeks. Not enough to make a decent stew. He’d have to wait for Marié’s return to even start cooking.

Just then, he heard the clanging of a couple of pots followed by a soft thud. Dion was on his knees, holding onto the door frame as he slowly caught his breath. He wore his bedclothes in disarray, and his cheeks were still bright red with the fever that had returned just last night. “Your Highness!” Terence ran over, just in time to stop his prince from falling over. “You shouldn’t be up and about yet.”

“... ‘m hungry,” Dion mumbled, still fighting the breathlessness. “‘Tis quite late in the day…”

Terence smiled, despite himself. At least Dion could already walk, though clearly still too weak to do so. He hoisted Dion up by his arm over his shoulder, walking back to the dining table. “Have a seat for now, Your Highness. I shall bring you some water.”

Dion nodded wordlessly, before being consumed by a coughing fit. Terence poured the half of the remaining water into a new cup and brought it before Dion to drink. “Have you taken your medicine?” Dion shook his head. “Hungry,” he repeated.

Terence bit back his growing sigh, his eyes flitting over the meager stocks on the pantry, then back to his prince. Dion was struggling to remain focused despite looking like he’d almost lose consciousness at any moment. “I shall try to cook something, Your Highness. Would you like to return to your room in the meantime?”

To this, Dion shook his head again. “Want to stay here...” He let out a small smile, the first in weeks since he’d fallen ill. Thank Greagor for small mercies, Terence thought to himself.

“All right, then.” Terence rose and returned to the kitchen, but not before taking one more glance at Dion. He’d fallen asleep on the table immediately, small wisps of blond hair sticking all over his sweaty face. Dion letting his guard down around Terence had quickly become a habit, though Terence restrained himself from doing the same; it would be highly improper to do so.

He sighed for real this time. Time to get to work.

Upon checking the smaller cupboards for any last things he could use, a small amount of olive oil, as well as a handful of mixed herbs and ground pepper, joined the paltry spread of ingredients on the table. Only a cup of water was left in the jar; hopefully Lucy will be back soon. Maybe he could manage a simple soup with these ingredients, just a little something to fill his prince in the meantime before Marié returns.

Terence heated up the oil in the pot, then proceeded to dice the potatoes and turnips into small cubes, adding them in just in time as the oil was ready. After stirring for around ten minutes, he adjusted the fire before adding the water, ground pepper and mixed herbs. It was not at all how his mother had prepared it, and he was pretty certain the taste would not amount to anything palatable, but it was probably better than nothing.

He transferred the soup into a wooden bowl once it was done, tasting the small amount that remained in the pot. It was too thin and bland, as he’d expected. Maybe he should have waited for Marié, after all. At least the vegetables would be enough sustenance for a few hours while the real meal was being prepared.

“Your Highness,” Terence gently shook Dion’s shoulder, taking a seat beside him. “I have prepared soup. You should eat it while it’s hot, so you can take your medicine after.”

Dion stirred after a few moments, squinting at Terence as his eyes refocused. “... Too bright…” It left him a little lost for words, as the house was mostly dark, save for the sunlight streaming in from the window on the front porch. “It is a good day, isn’t it?” He settled for agreeing with Dion in the end, hoping his confusion wouldn’t be perceived by his prince.

He lifted a spoonful of soup between them, blowing gently a couple of times. “Is this all right?” Dion opened his mouth in response. Terence then fed him the soup, letting him take his time to sip from the spoon until it was emptied. Dion blinked twice, as if considering the taste of the soup, before swallowing.

Terence gulped nervously, his heart beating fast as his body began to break into an odd sort of cold sweat. Why did he even think this was a good idea? He really should have just waited for Lucy and Marié instead, and now he probably just messed up badly—before his prince, no less.

Then Dion smiled. Still a small one, just like earlier, but clearly directed at him. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” And just like that, Terence’s nervousness went away, completely replaced by joy and relief. How and why that had even happened, he couldn’t understand himself, but that was not important right now. “Do you think you can finish it?”

Dion considered the bowl in Terence’s hand, then looked up at him. He nodded. “If you feed me.”

Well, he supposed he could indulge in his prince just this once. Terence added some vegetables into the next spoonful before offering it to Dion. “Be careful, Your Highness.” The next few minutes were spent in a somewhat blissful silence, save for the quiet blowing and chewing sounds. Terence’s cheeks and lips hadn’t hurt from smiling this much since they were both children; it felt as if they had returned to those times, even but for a brief moment.

Lucy returned just as Dion had swallowed the last spoonful of soup. “Oh, Your Highness is awake. I see you’ve had something to eat?”

“Yes, Lucy. Terence made it.” Dion’s eyes shone a little more now than earlier as he faced Terence once more. “It was delicious.”

“I… Thank you…” Terence fumbled for words at the unexpected praise, willing away the way his heart fluttered at Dion’s words. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“If you’re both quite done, Sir Terence can bring His Highness back to his room and give him his medicine. I’ll need help back here once Marié gets back from the market.” Lucy raised an impatient eyebrow at Terence despite the patient instruction she’d given them. That was more than enough for them both to rise immediately and do as she told them.

Once Terence had gotten Dion settled back in his bed and given him his medicine, he sat down on the lone stool by the nightstand and considered the morning’s events. It was nothing but an act of devotion, a moment brought about by a squire’s concern for his liege. He repeated this to himself until his heart rate had slowed down once more. Nothing more than that.

He waited until Dion’s breathing had evened out before quietly making for the door. That was quite enough excitement for one day, and he wouldn’t have his prince think anything more of it, lest he suspect he was being taken advantage of in any way. Terence was certain this moment would remain in his own memory for quite a while, for better or worse. This was enough for now. He would never act upon it, nor do anything his prince wouldn’t wish for.

“Terence?” Dion’s whisper came clearly before Terence could turn the doorknob. There it was again. He slowly let go and turned back. “What is it, Your Highness?”

A smile, so vulnerable yet so full of love. “Thank you. For today.”

There was probably more Dion had wanted to say, but he didn’t have the strength to speak any longer than that, so he made up for it with the way his eyes crinkled in affection and his lips silently mouthed Terence’s name, even as he slowly extended one arm, as if asking him to stay instead. It was a plea Terence couldn’t resist, despite the vow he had made to himself. To see his prince suffer alone was something he could most certainly not bear, no matter what.

So he rushed back to Dion’s side once more, clasping the hand that had reached out for him with both of his own. “You’re most welcome, Your Highness.”

They stayed that way for many moments, with Terence kneeling beside Dion, waiting for him to fall asleep. He did not yet know nor understand where his own feelings lay at this moment, but none of that mattered now to him. “My prince,” he whispered into his and Dion’s joined hands, as if in prayer, “I will always be by your side, for as long as you would have me do so.

“This I promise in Greagor’s name,” he amended his vow, blinking back the tears that had threatened to fall from his eyes. “And may She bless you and keep you in Her grace forever.”

#final fantasy xvi #sir terence #dion lesage #sickfic #fluff #flareknight #teredio

[katiesdailystruggle]

I have this Bangtan fantasy AU that I can not get out of my head so I’m sorry for the word vomit I’m about to drop.

AU where Jungkook is a prince from a fallen empire, Hoseok is his Lord Commander First Shield who helps him as they travel across the realm in hiding searching for answers on how to reclaim his throne. Seokjin is a healer in one of the small distract villages they stumble upon when jungkook falls ill from traveling/magic usage. Namjoon is a high house adviser of the traitor’s council who is deeply distraught by the cruelty in which the traitor rules and tries to go under cover and deliver food and supplies to the suffering villages in hopes someone will provide an uprise to stand against the injustice. Jimin and Tae are both hidden loyalists to Jungkook’s father (who lost his life in the overturning of the throne) who suffer under the demands of said cruel leaders who try all in their power to crush the livelihoods of the remaining empire’s citizens. Yoongi is a mage who guides jungkook on his magic usage and teaches him how to use it safely.

I have absolutely no idea why I’m posting this but I needed to get it out of my head lmao 💀

#AU and HC #fantasy au #lots of whump and sickfic potential #since it’s set in the timeline of royalty and knights #ignore me #absolutely no one asked for this #I’m so sorry #my brain just #brained #and here we are #help 💀💀💀

[doggonewhumper]

Whumpcember Day 1 & 2

Fever & Sickness

@whumpcember

Reyna woke up freezing.

Her face felt stuffed full of cotton, her thoughts wavy and confused. She immediately knew the feeling - fever. She was sick all of the time, yet the hot-cold aching pain was something she never got used to. She could barely lift her head from her pillow, let alone call for help, so she resigned herself to suffering until her brother decided to check on her. Lucky for her, a knock on the door sounded after less than an hour (although it felt like an eternity for her).

"Reyna? You haven't come out for breakfast!" Roman called in. Reyna only groaned in response, pushing her aching head into her pillow. "I'm coming in."

Roman slowly opened the door. He figured his sister was sick again because of her lack of answer. Sure enough, he found her pale and exhausted in bed. He frowned.

"It's probably from all of the stress yesterday," he said, tucking her blanket around her. "I did tell you not to go down into the dungeons. Who knows what's in the air down there." Even as he scolded her, he left to prepare a cold cloth for her head and a big glass of water. When he came back, she was asleep,tossing and turning in discomfort. He knew she always had terrible fever dreams, and he only hoped she wouldn't wake up screaming this time. He set the cloth over her head and the water on the bedside table, then settled in a nearby chair to watch over her until she was better.

#whump writing #whump #writing #whumpee #Reyna #roman #whumpcember #whumpcember2023 #whump fic #whump community #sick #sickfic #caretaker #illness #sickness #fever #aching #short #fantasy

[whumperofworlds]

"error 404: [character] refuses to admit they’re sick." for our good sweet man Drusus?

Drusus would too. 😆 🤣

CWs: Sickfic, just a bunch of cuteness and comfort!

_____

"You're sick, babe," Keme sighed, shaking his head as he watched Drusus slave over the paperwork on his desk.

"No, I'm--cough--not," Drusus protested, as he looked over the paperwork he was signing. Of course, of freaking course, the Monk ended up getting sick, and he still brought paperwork home to work on it. The man was supposed to be resting, for crying out loud!

"You're literally coughing up a lung, and you've been sniffling every five minutes," Keme protested back. "Love, I get that you're a hard worker, but you need to rest. Now."

"I--" Drusus tried to say, only to sniffle for a second. Cosmos, it was hard to breathe when his nose was stuffed up. But he had work to do! He wasn't sick as Keme claimed. "--If I don't finish this, Keme, Aric would roll in his grave. I have to--"

Without warning, Keme walked up to Drusus and snatched the paper out of the Monk's hand. Drusus gasped for a second, almost getting into another coughing fit, as he tried to snatch the paper back from his husband.

"Love--"

"Nope," Keme said, "you're resting. I told Vel that we're taking the day off tomorrow, so you should be resting, not working!"

"You what?!" Drusus cried. "You can't just--" He paused for a moment, registering Keme's words then. "...We?"

"Yep," Keme confirmed with a nod, a smirk on his face, "I'm taking the day off too. Gotta make sure you're not working yourself to death, y'know?"

Drusus sighed, sniffling. Cosmos, maybe Keme was right. He was sick as all hell.

"...All right, fine. I'll rest."

"Good!" Keme chuckled, rubbing his husband's head, tousling his long brown hair. "Go to bed. I'll start making some soup."

Drusus smiled slightly at Keme's offer, although smiling was taking up a lot of energy due to his sickness. He was so lucky to have such a good husband like Keme.

#wow answers #my whump stories #whump #sickfic #final fantasy 1 #my ocs #drusus #keme #sick whump