emetoing

[emetoing]

In light of your latest fic -- any chance we could eventually see Zubin overeating intentionally, with the idea of making himself sick to indulge Xander's kink? (possibly while tied up because I adore the idea of them both being kink-positive towards each other aaaah)

Anonymous said: Can you do a (nsfw) fic where Xand ties Zubin up and gags him? HOLY FLIPPIN HELL PRETTY PLEASE YES

Anonymous said: Can you please do another nsfw fic about Zubin and Xander(’s emetophilia kink)?

Anonymous said: For some reason I’m craving some Xander emetophile nsfw fic

Anonymous said: I reallly really reallllly need a fic now of Xander feeding Zubin and just tons of burps and almost vomiting but not quite and they start to have sex because they think they are good on the no vomiting thing and of course Zubin vomits all over Xander unexpectedly and he starts to apologize but Xander asks him to do it again?

A/N: The time has come - I finally wrote something which kinda fulfils all these prompts! I am dedicating it to @lickstynine because J gave me the courage to write it! I hope you enjoy!WARNING: IT IS NSFW.

Zubin had lined his stomach. He’d made a conscious effort to remember to eat, rather than doing his usual act of forgetting and then scoffing down a snack on the go. But tonight was the night.

Ever since Zubin had found out about Xander’s kink, and admitted his own desire to be bound, they’d wanted to have a night in together to try things out. But university halls weren’t the best place for that - the walls were paper thin, so most noise travelled easily, and as the two of them weren’t quite sure how things would pan out, they refrained.

But this week was reading week - a time for catching up on any mid semester reading and preparing for the next batch of assignments. And in true student fashion, it was a week that most students went home to visit family, or go on a cheap break abroad with the new found friends made during the first part of the semester. Zubin and Xander were staying, in an almost deserted hall, and that meant they could have some fun. It’d been all Zubin had thought about all day. Every now and then a shiver had chased down his spine as he remembered.

He was so excited that he turned up at Xander’s door earlier than he’d agreed, unable to focus on anything else.

“You’re early?” Xander said once he’d opened the door; Zubin was never early - he always seemed to be running late.

“I couldn’t wait,” Zubin slipped into the room alongside Xander, pushing the door shut with one hand and snaking his other around Xander’s waist, pulling him in close to kiss him. It was a needy kiss, full of heat and longing, and Xander nearly melted into it. Warmth prickled up the back of Xander’s neck, and his hands wrapped round Zubin’s hips. His heart began to speed up, and he forced himself to pull away.

“Mmm… eager, are we?” Xander commented, kissing the tip of Zubin’s nose.

“Lil bit…” Zubin smiled sheepishly, his arms still around Xander’s waist. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, there’s to be no apologies!” Xander insisted, shaking his head. “I’m glad you’re looking forwards to it!”

“Oh, I really am,” Zubin replied enthusiastically.

“Even with the food?” Xander looked concerned for a second; Zubin detached himself from Xander gently.

“My belly’s rumbling in anticipation!” Zubin patted his stomach.

“Good,” Xander nodded. “I wasn’t quite ready yet…” He glanced over his shoulder to his bed, and Zubin followed his line of sight, a shiver running down his spine as he saw one of the bedposts had a cord knotted around it.

“Is that for-?” Zubin trailed off, looking back at Xander.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded, aware of what the rest of the question was. “I was just about to fasten the other one.” He crossed to the other side of the bed as Zubin perched on the edge of it, able to feel his blood pulsing through his body as he watched Xander’s fingers tying secure knots into it. It wasn’t just the knots Xander was creating in the cord, it was simply Xander that made Zubin’s heart flutter - that he’d take the time to do this for him, that meant a lot.

“Thank you,” Zubin told him, still watching Xander as he ensured the knots were safe, “for doing this.”

“Thank you!” Xander said, straightening up, then he smiled. “I’m glad I’m doing this with you…”

“Me too,” Zubin nodded. “Is there anything I can do right now?”

“See that bag there?” Xander pointed to a canvas bag propped in his desk chair, Zubin nodded. “It’s got some snacks in it, get eating…”

Zubin grinned, leaning across to the bag and fishing out a packet of gummy bears from the top. “Alright!”

“There’s some juice in there too,” Xander told him; Zubin raked through the bag and found the large bottle of Sprite.

“I’m on it,” Zubin said, unscrewing the top and taking a swig.

Xander pulled his bedroom window open a bit; he’d pretty much prepared the room now, and what he really wanted to do was sit down and watch Zubin. His heart was already bounding in his chest, and he was having to make a conscious effort to not get too excited.

“Brrup!” Zubin let out a small belch, the bubbles from the fizzy juice bursting in his stomach. He’d finished the gummy bears, and began raking through the bag. “Is there anything in particular you want me to eat?”

“Anything!” Xander answered, a little too quickly, and Zubin smiled at him. “I’ve got some rice pudding pots in the bottom of the bag?” He suggested.

“Ooh!” Zubin dived down into the depths of the bag; he loved rice pudding, so that wouldn’t be any hardship to eat. He practically inhaled the rice pudding, pausing only to take a few sips from his juice. “What next?” He mumbled, swallowing his last mouthful, and Xander dug in the bag and brought out a chocolate mousse pot. “Thanks.”

Zubin ate, and ate, and ate - and drank, and ate; aware that all the while Xander was watching him. He tried to put on a show, pausing every so often, allowing out little burps caused by the juice, and rubbing a hand across his expanding belly. It was working too - he could see the lust in Xander’s eyes, and every few minutes he let out a breath as though he’d been holding it in. Zubin was beginning to feel a bit full now, after all he’d had lunch not too long ago. The skin of his stomach was pressing against the waistband of his trousers and he paused, rubbing his hand over his stomach as he leant back.

“I’m getting a bit full,” he admitted eventually, looking across at Xander, who moved across to sit next to Zubin. He looked him up and down slowly.

“You can do better than that,” he said, his voice was a little husky, and he reached into the canvas bag and pulling a bag of chocolate covered pretzels.

“Can I take my trousers off?” Zubin asked, knowing that would give his abdomen room to expand.

“Course!” Xander agreed, and Zubin wriggled his way out of his jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor. “Have a drink.” Xander picked up the juice bottle and held it out; Zubin took a small drink. “More than that!” He took another drink. “Oh, more than that!” Xander encouraged, there was a twinkle in his eyes as Zubin drowned the rest of what was in the bottle.

“Brrruuuuuaaarrrp!” The belch rumbled up Zubin’s throat as the juice settled into the spaces in his stomach.

“Nice…” Xander muttered, his cheeks going rather pink as he held a chocolate pretzel up to Zubin’s lips. “Come on…”

Zubin looked into Xander’s face, and opened his mouth; the shine in Xander’s eyes was getting brighter as Zubin opened his mouth and let the pretzel inside. He kept eating, chewing becoming more and more onerous as he felt his stomach becoming fuller.                                          

“Brruuuaaaarrrppp!” Zubin pulled back away from Xander’s hand as he burped, and he rubbed his own hand across his stomach. Even though his t-shirt he could see the bulge of his stomach. “Oh, I’m really full now…” He mumbled.

“You can do a little more,” Xander encouraged, he shook the bag indicating how it was nearly empty.

“Hmmm…” Zubin groaned a little, then opened his mouth to allow Xander to put in another pretzel. “Uuurrp!” The burp came up as Zubin swallowed, and he clutched his hand to his stomach.

“That’s it,” Xander was already pressing another to Zubin’s mouth; Zubin struggled to swallow, his mouth very dry from the pretzels.

“Need - drink,” he forced out, still chewing a mouthful.

“Okay - here,” Xander fished in the bag, bringing out another bottle of Sprite, uncapped it and handed it across. Zubin gulped at it, washing down the pretzel residue that was still in his mouth.

“Brraaaauuulllccchh!” The burp that sprang up as soon as Zubin finished drinking was enormous. It caught in his chest, and he had to clamp his mouth shut as he was scared it might start a heave. He clutched his hands to his belly, letting out a small whimper, and he shook his head slightly. “No - no more…” He begged. “Not gonna - brruuup - keep it down…” He burped again, massaging his hand round the swelling in his gut.

“Okay,” Xander placed the bag of pretzels aside. “Okay, you’ve done super well.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Zubin’s face as Zubin whimpered again. “Why don’t you lie up on the bed? Get yourself ready…” He whispered, moving from the edge of the bed.

Zubin sat very still for a few moments, taking deep steadying breaths to try and settle his sloshing stomach. “Uuuaarrrp!”

Very slowly he peeled his t-shirt off over his head, still keeping one hand cradling his belly; it was very swollen, a pink dome in his skin, and he struggled to take his boxers off because of his stomach’s heavy weight. He shuffled up the bed, until he was leaning against the headboard, then huffed slightly. He was so full.

Xander had stripped too, wiggling his jeans and boxers off, and pulling his shirt over his head, with his back to Zubin. When he turned round, he gasped - his eyes raking over his boyfriend’s naked form; he felt the tug in his groin, and knew that he was getting hard very quickly.

“Oh God…” Xander breathed, approaching the side of the bed, his eyes wide; Zubin looked up at him. “You’re fucking beautiful Zubin!” Xander had clambered onto the bed, resting on his side so he could look at Zubin. “Can I?” He held his hand out above Zubin’s belly, waiting for permission to touch it.

“Yeah,” Zubin breathed, moving his own hands way.

The flesh of Zubin’s stomach was taut and warm as Xander lay his hand gently on it; he couldn’t stop the intake of breath as an electric thrill shot through his body.

“Mmmnnngg…” Zubin groaned, allowing his head to fall back onto Xander’s headboard, Xander’s hand was cool against his skin. “Brrruuuaarrpp!” The belch burst from him as Xander rubbed his hand around the bulge. “Ohh… I’m so full…” Zubin muttered. Xander squeezed his legs together as he could feel his penis hard along the inside of his thigh. Xander getly pressed his splayed fingers into the flesh, Zubin’s head snapped up again. “Brrauuhhuulllp!” His hand shot up to his mouth and he had to swallow hard.

“Not yet,” Xander said firmly as Zubin forced his throat clear, and nodded. Xander began to stroke his fingers across Zubin’s stomach, looking at Zubin in wonder. “Y’know when we were kids, and cartoons used to show people being full like they’d swallowed a whole football?”

“Mmhmm,” Zubin hummed.

“Well your belly is like those cartoons,” he bent down and pressed a kiss to his flesh; he could hear and feel the glugging going on inside Zubin. “Oh fuck..” Xander moved his hand from rubbing across, to down in between his thighs.

“You like?” Zubin asked, his hand slipping down with Xander’, and gently putting pressure on Xander’s cock.

“Uuuhhh…” Xander gasped in, his eyes closing momentarily; when he opened them he leant forwards, kissing Zubin, able to taste the sweetness from the pretzels. He could feel his pulse bounding in his groin now, and he struggled to pull away. “You ready?” It came out as a bit of a growl, desperation ringing in his voice.

“Yeah…” Zubin answered, offering out his hands.

“Oh good,” Xander had almost seized hold of Zubin’s left hand and began to slot it through the loop in the rope and tightened it. “Now…” Xander was almost panting, but he wanted to set their rules. “You’ve got to try and keep that down - no puking, okay?” Zubin looked at Xander, wide-eyed, his stomach was straining, and he didn’t know how he’d manage that.

“I’ll try,” he answered, allowing Xander to maneouvre his other hand into the loop.

“No, no try,” Xander shook his head. “You’ll manage.” He swivelled round to secure Zubin’s ankles, and Zubin caught sight of how hard Xander was.

“Okay,” he agreed, swallowing down a burp as Xander turned back, straddling over Zubin’s thighs and leaning down to kiss him. Zubin felt the pressure on his belly, but tried to ignore it as he kissed back. His hands were tied to either side of his head, and the knots on his ankles forced his legs to be spread apart. He felt incredibly vulnerable - yet at the same time, he could feel himself getting hard, especially as Xander’s cock pressed into the soft flesh of his belly.

“You… are… phenomenal!” Xander punctuated his words with soft kisses down the side of Zubin’s neck, making his back arch as his skin tingled.

“Brruuuuuarrrrrrrpp!” Zubin couldn’t stop the burp, and his stomach let out an ominous gurgle.

“Keep it down,” Xander’s lips vibrated against Zubin’s skin.

“Rub my belly - please?” Zubin begged, his stomach felt like it was throbbing as he peered at Xander.

“Oh? You want me to…?” Xander’s hand ghosted over his flesh, and Zubin groaned. “What do you want?”

“Please!” Zubin repeated. “Brruuuurrp!” Zubin was straining forwards, and the burp turned into a heave; he clamped his mouth shut and swallowed, his eyes watering.

“Good boy…” Xander had clearly felt the start of the heave, and as a reward he rubbed both hands across Zubin’s stomach.

“Xand…” Zubin breathed, he wiggled where he lay, trying to indicate that he wanted Xander inside him. “Please - don’t tease me!”

“You want it?”

“Yes!” Zubin gasped, swallowing back as another heave threatened to overwhelm him.

“Okay,” Xander didn’t need much persuading, and he lubed up his fingers before reaching down to stretch Zubin.

“Oh! Oh… Oh!” Zubin moaned, bucking his hips involuntarily, which caused his stomach to slosh and he clamped his mouth shut as he gagged. Xander had paused, watching the struggle his boyfriend was going through, and feeling his heart go double speed in his chest. Finally Zubin took a gasping breath in.

“Well done!” He began to prepare himself. “You fought so hard - God, you’re fucking sexy…”

“Just-” Zubin gasped, trying to spread his legs further.

“Ready?” It wasn’t a question, Xander didn’t wait for it to be answered. He leant forwards and pushed in, kissing Zubin’s neck again as he did so.

“Oh…” Xander breathed out, his heart felt like it’d exploded. “Oh, Zu…” He moved slowly, gently - hearing Zubin’s ragged breathing. Zubin’s eyes closed as he felt Xander inside him; then Xander pushed hard, and Zubin felt a flood of liquid into the back of his mouth, and he had to swallow. He had to keep it down.

“Brrp!” A small belch popped into Zubin’s closed mouth, and he felt himself heave again. Stars were popping in his closed eyes as he felt Xander thrust again, he felt the slosh inside his belly and knew he wasn’t going to manage Xander’s request. “Xand-hhrrk!” Zubin heaved as Xander thrusted; chills were running down his spine, and he felt his over bloated belly tense.

“Bllluuuuuhhhaarrrrggg!” Zubin had barely been able to take a breath in before he felt his throat widen, and up came a fierce rush of sick. It splattered across Xander’s chest and down onto his own chest. There was a moment’s pause where both of them took in what had just happened; then Xander began moving again, harder and faster. “S-sorry…” Zubin stammered out, his mouth tasted bitter.

“Do it again,” the words tumbled from Xander in a breathless rush; his eyes were closed, and he panted slightly.

“What?”

“Do - it- again!” He was still pushing, hard and fast; and Zubin allowed his belly to get jostled by the movement until:

“Hmmmmmmbbblluuurrrrrrrkkk!” Another gush of puke burst up and hit them both again.

“Oh fuck - yes!” Xander breathed, his eyes snapping open and he leant down to kiss Zubin, not seeming to care that his mouth was still coated in sick. “Oh god Zu…”

“You…?” Zubin wanted to check that he wasn’t angry, but Xander had reached up to untie Zubin’s hands.

“Need you - on top of me,” he struggled, his eyes burning. He managed to unfasten Zubin’s hands, but didn’t care about his feet, they were loose enough for some maneouvrability.

Zubin’s stomach still felt oppressively heavy as Xander managed to roll him on top of him; his stomach let out a loud gurgle and he clutched his hand to it.

“No - no hands,” Xander pulled Zubin’s hand away, planting it firmly onto the mattress and beginning to pick up a rhythm again.

“Still hurts…” Zubin pouted down at Xander, with each thrust he felt his belly lurch.

“Puke on me,” Xander asked pleadingly.

“What?”

“Puke on me!” It was him begging now, his eyes open and desperate.

“Brruuurrrpp!” Zubin opened his mouth, but all that came up was a wet belch. “Ugh, push my belly?”

Xander put his hand up and pressed it into Zubin’s flesh, thrusting simultaneously.

“Hyyyggggeeuuuurrrrrgggllee!” A copious wave of puke cascaded from Zubin’s mouth, landing squarely on Xander’s chest. He’d barely taken a breath in before another wave was flooding from him, pouring from his mouth and nose. “Hlllleeeuuuurrrkkkllee!”

Xander’s head was thrown back, his eyes rolling in ecstasy as he thrusted, and Zubin burped another mouthful up onto his chet.

“Oh fuck, you’re perfect…” Xander gasped.

“Blllluuuurrrkkklllee!” More sick came up, Zubin could feel his stomach becoming emptier - his muscles clenching tighter.

“Ah - I’m gonna…” Xander’s voice was trembling, as he gave three sharp short thrusts, then went limp, breathing hard. His eyes were closed, but he reached his hand up and pulled Zubin down to kiss him.

Zubin laid gently down beside Xander - aware that they were both coated in his stomach contents; Xander’s eyes flickered open, and he touched his fingers to Zubin’s cheek.

“You - Zu… amazing!” He breathed.

“You liked that?” Zubin asked.

“Fuck - fuck yeah!” He nodded. “You were fantastic!” Zubin smiled, happy that Xander had enjoyed it.

“Good,” he whispered.

Xander’s eyes locked intensely onto Zubin’s, and he said:

“Now I get to finish you - in the shower?”

“Oh fuck, please!”

[emetoing]

How about a tearful 22 for Isaiah? :D

thanks for the prompt! sorry it took so long to fulfill; i’ve had a LOT going on lately.

22. “My stomach feels funny.”

Despite it having been his idea to come to the party at Angelica’s, Isaiah had hardly spoken a word to anyone since he and Evelyn gotten there. He had spent most of his time lingering near a corner, holding a red solo cup of white wine and sipping it every few minutes. He was thirsty, but alcohol wasn’t doing it for him. Something had been off all day, and he hadn’t quite been able to put his finger on what it was yet. He didn’t realize until he left his spot against the wall to grab a cup of water that he was feeling slightly nauseous.

The tiniest wave of nausea in Isaiah’s stomach set off alarms in his head as always. He reminded himself to breathe as he grabbed some water, mustering a smile when one of his classmates waved at him and going back to his spot against the wall. He’d hoped he would feel better once he was standing still and leaning against the wall, but his stomach only began to ache more, and he started to panic.

Isaiah tried a breathing technique he’d taught himself to deal with his anxiety, but it didn’t quiet his queasy stomach at all, and his nervousness grew. He felt himself starting to sweat as he felt something sharp and acidic at the back of his throat. He couldn’t do this in front of everyone here. He set down his water and found a bathroom upstairs, pulling the door shut behind him quickly, and it was once he was alone that he truly lost control of his breathing. He sat on the edge of the tub and placed a hand to his chest, trying to force himself to breathe deeply. His nausea still grew, and tears began to prick his eyes.

A sharp knock at the door briefly interrupted his panic. He was trying to clear his voice of tears before telling whoever it was that the restroom was occupied, but before he could, he heard his best friend’s voice from the other side. “Isaiah?” said Evelyn, a hint of worry in her voice. “I’ve been looking for you.” She paused, and he wasn’t sure what to say. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said finally. If anyone were to see him like this, he would prefer for it to be Evelyn.

She opened the door and shut it quietly, turning to face Isaiah and her expression immediately growing worried. “You’re crying!” she said. “What’s wrong?”

It was when she recognized his panic that he was flung back to reality, the nausea growing harder to ignore as he swallowed a gag. “My stomach feels funny,” he said, his expression crumpling as a few more tears rolled down his cheeks and he wiped them away quickly. He always felt stupid for panicking so much whenever he felt sick, but he couldn’t help it.

“Oh,” said Evelyn, her voice a bit more serious. “Do you think you’re gonna…?”

“I really hope not,” he said. As he said it, however, he failed to stifle a gag, and more tears formed in his eyes as he retched dryly with his mouth stubbornly shut.

“Come to the toilet,” Evelyn said. Isaiah shook his head, afraid to open his mouth as more tears escaped his eyes. “Please, Isaiah. You’ll feel so much better when you get it over with.”

“I won’t,” he insisted, and talking proved to be a mistake. His objection tapered into a harsh retch, and he found himself swiveling around and hanging over the tub as a stream of bile left his mouth. Evelyn was quick to pull his curls out of his face, and he started hyperventilating as he watched the small amount of stomach acid trickle towards the drain.

“It’s okay,” Evelyn said. “Deep breaths.” Isaiah’s short, uneven breaths caused him to retch again, this time bringing up a larger wave that stung his nose as it came up. Each time he felt a gag coming, he tried and failed to stifle it, only succeeding in making each retch more painful as he vomited up the contents of his stomach into the tub. As another wave of vomit hit the tub with a sickening splatter, tears began to flow more freely down Isaiah’s face, and Evelyn realized that he was sobbing. “You’re okay,” she reassured him as he heaved again, bringing up a smaller, more liquidy wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said, gagging again.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you can’t help it. You just need to not hold it back.” She rubbed his back gently, making sure he was done before she let go of his hair and handed him a wad of toilet paper. “It hurts less that way. I promise.”

“Okay,” he said defeatedly, wiping his mouth and letting out a few more cathartic sobs before standing up and cleaning himself up more thoroughly. Evelyn attempted to clean the tub as he did so, so that Angelica wouldn’t have to deal with the mess.

“Does your stomach feel better?” Evelyn said as she and Isaiah walked out of the party together.

“Yeah,” Isaiah said. “It does.” As they walked, however, he tried to ignore the slight upset feeling that lingered in his gut.

[emetoing]

Blake getting badly carsick and Aiden being frustrated because he's in the back seat and can't do anything to help.

Anonymous said: Someone pukes into a bag that ends up overflowing/ spilling which ends in a multi-person chain puke

A/N: Wholly dedicated to @ocsickficsideblog I love you April, and you are so so strong and brave - you’re an inspiration 💜 Basically this was just a lovely excuse to torture Blake and Jack! I hope you enjoy, I’d love to know what you think about it!

Blake clutched at the drawstring bag containing his kit, biting his lip in anticipation. He’d come to dread any kind of distance journey, even though he knew from years of experience what to expect. It didn’t make it any easier. The choir was competing in Newcastle, and a coach had been organised to take the rest of the choir down. Blake had agonised about this trip – not particularly wanting to have to join the coach and suffer the whole way down, but he knew he had to get there. Then Jack stepped up – offering to drive Blake down in his 4x4, so they could take as much time as they wanted and stop as often as they needed. Even though Blake knew Jack and Aiden understood, he still felt anxious about it.  “I’ve tried to prepare the front seat a bit,” Jack told him, unlocking the door of his car and roughly yanking open his door to climb in.  “Thanks,” Blake muttered, opening his own door. Jack had laid a plastic sheet in the footwell of the car, and there was a towel stuffed into the door pocket; the sight of it all made Blake’s chest tighten.  “There’s a bucket in the back seat too,” Jack said, indicating back to where Aiden had just climbed in.  “Thanks,” he repeated, climbing in and pulling his seatbelt across. He leant back, closing his eyes in the hope that he might be able to go to sleep, which would get him through at least part of the journey. From the back seat, Aiden slipped his hand through the gap of the chair and squeezed at Blake’s shoulder reassuringly.  “All set?” Jack asked, turning the engine on so the car roared into life.  “Just go,” Aiden instructed quietly to Jack as Blake kept his eyes closed, breathing in a controlled manner.  Jack began – pulling away gently from the curb. Jack may be haphazard in a lot of his life, but he was a very good, smooth driver – and for this Blake was thankful. Blake kept his eyes shut, and the noise of the engine lulled him to sleep.  In the back seat Aiden was leaning to the side, feeling like he was just out of range to be able to help Blake if he needed to.  “You alright Aiden?” Jack questioned as he pulled out onto the motorway and sped up.  “Yeah,” Aiden agreed, but he still leant out so he could see Blake’s face in the rearview mirror. ���I just…” He trailed off. “I know,” Jack nodded. “It’s like the calm before the storm, though let’s hope there’s no storm.” “There will be…” Aiden sighed, he was yet to go on a trip with Blake that didn’t end with Blake being ill.

Blake felt the cloistered, warm heat spreading through his chest as he slowly came back to consciousness; the dizzy sick wave coursing over him, sending a chill down his spine. It wasn’t a good sensation. The movement of the car seemed to be amplified through his body. His throat already felt sticky and tight, and he reluctantly opened his eyes. They were cruising the motorway and instantly Blake felt the urge to heave as he felt dizzy. A burp jolted up his chest, leaving an acidic coating in his mouth, warning him. He leant forwards, grabbing at his drawstring bag and rummaging through it to find a plastic bag.  “Blake?” Aiden asked from the backseat. “What’s going on?” Do you want us to stop?” The plastic bag rustled as Blake pulled it open, he tried to nod – not feeling able to reply as his mouth began to overwater.  “I’ll pull over at the next stop,” Jack said, pressing the button to wind the window down to get some fresh air in, and glancing repeatedly over at Blake.  “H’kkkssshhhlleeeuuuuggggghh…” A large rapid gush of sick came flooding from Blake’s mouth and nose – splattering into the bag he was gripping tight with trembling hands. “Oh dear,” Aiden leant forwards, pressing against the back of Blake’s chair, trying to reach Blake’s back to comfort him, but he was right at the edge of his own seat with the bag close to his face and out of Aiden’s reach… All Aiden could do was talk to Blake and try to reassure him that way. “We’ll stop really soon, just breathe in slowly Blake.” “Bbl’lkkkkuuururrhhhh!” Blake choked, coughing up another thick wave of vomit into the bag, bringing it perilously close to being full, but Blake was swaying slightly, clearly unaware. “Huu’uuh…” The sound startled Aiden as he was so busy trying to help Blake; he looked over at Jack, whose knuckles were gripping so tightly on the steering wheel they were white. “Jack?” He asked quickly.  “S-sorry, uh…” He panted, jabbing sharply at the button to wind his own window down to get fresh air on his side. “H’kkkllluuuuhhhrrrggg…” Blake heaved again, and another large rush of puke spattered noisily into the bag causing it to overflow and drip down onto the plastic protecting the floor. “Hlll’kklll!” “Oh god…huh!” Jack’s voice sounded thick and he gagged slightly at the sound of Blake’s sick hitting the plastic sheeting; Blake whimpered a little as he held the overspilling bag and still knew more was coming. “Kkkhhllll!” Blake retched harshly. Aiden felt completely helpless – he couldn’t reach Blake to comfort him in anyway, and he couldn’t help Jack either. Jack had sped his car up, indicating to come off on the next slip road, and the sudden increase in speed caused the bag Blake was gripping to spill over more onto his hands and the floor. He whimpered again, bringing up another smaller, but thicker wave. “It’s okay!” Aiden tried to tell them both as Jack made muted heaving sounds himself. “You’re both okay!” Jack brought the car to a halt in the service station car park, and both he and Aiden rapidly unbuckled their seatbelts; Jack almost fled from the car and Aiden could hear him retching loudly as he climbed from the car and opened Blake’s door. Blake hadn’t moved, he was still leaning forward over his full bag with his eyes shut. “Okay Blake,” Aiden soothed gently, brushing some of Blake’s hair away from his face; then he carefully picked up Blake’s drawstring bag, avoiding the puddle of sick on the floor. “Just hold on – I’ll clean you up now.” Rummaging through Blake’s kit, he found a larger plastic bag to the one Blake was holding, he opened it up and managed to fit it around the full bag of sick. “Let it go Blake.” He told him gently, and slowly Blake released it. “That’s it, well done…” Aiden hung the bag on the door handle as Blake slowly leant back in the seat, still with his dirty hands held out in front of him, they trembled slightly as he took deep breaths in. “Just rest for a bit, then you can have some water.” “Mmm… thanks,” Blake mumbled as Aiden pulled out some wet wipes from the bag and gently began to clean Blake’s hands, disposing the used wipes into the bag. When Blake’s hands were clean, Aiden turned his attention to the floor, mopping up all traces; then finding a bottle of water and pressing it into Blake’s hand. “Here,” Aiden said calmly, “take small, slow sips, and just sit and get some fresh air, okay?” “Yeah,” Blake nodded, his hands still shaking as he uncapped the bottle of water. “I’m just going to check on Jack, alright?” Aiden told Blake, who nodded again. Aiden skirted round the front of the car and found Jack leaning against his car door, with a puddle of sick at his own feet. “Oh Jack…” “Sorry,” he muttered, looking at Aiden with his large blue eyes wide. “It was just the… the sound.” He cringed slightly, rubbing his hand across his stomach. “I dunno, it just…” Jack shook his head wildly. “Don’t worry about it,” Aiden said, putting his hand to Jack’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Shall I get you some water?” “That’d be good,” Jack mumbled, making a face at the taste in his mouth. Aiden returned to the other side of the car, to where Blake was still sitting quietly. “How you doing?” Aiden asked as he got another bottle of water. “I’ll be okay,” Blake replied, the colour was slowly returning to Blake’s cheeks. “How’s Jack?” “He’ll be okay too,” Aiden said, giving Blake’s hand a quick squeeze, before taking the water back to Jack. “Thanks,” Jack accepted it and took a quick swig.  “Would… would you like me to drive for a bit?” Aiden offered. “You could rest up in the back for a bit?” “Hmmm…” Jack bit his lip, then gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, that’s maybe a good idea.” “Okay – just take your time,” Aiden nodded. “Don’t worry.” He said it so loud so both of them could hear him. “I’ll look after the two of you.” “Thanks Aiden,” Jack said gratefully.

[emetoing]

Inspired by the anon: Jude is carsick on a long drive and assumes he just needs to eat something to feel better. It doesn't agree with him and he ends up making a mess in the car, feeling horrified and apologetic.

A/N: OMD I have SO MANY prompt requests for Jude being an idiot and eating when he’s nauseous, and I’m gonna try and do as many as I can, so here is the first! Thank you very much for this prompt - I really hope you enjoy Mel! 💙

It had been an early start for all of them, but Alba insisted that if they wanted to get out of London before the major jam started, they had to be on the road before 6am. They’d been down for a weekend visit, where Alba had taken them around all her old stomping grounds; only Leyton hadn’t come, but Alba had shrugged casually and said he’d seen it before and she knew it wasn’t his thing anyway. Now they were hammering along the motorway in Alba’s car, trying to agree on when their next stop would be. Alba was keen to get as far north as possible before stopping, whereas Eden and Eppie were more preoccupied with thoughts of breakfast. When they’d gotten up that morning, food hadn’t really been at the forefront of their minds. Alba had given them all bacon sandwiches at 5:15am, but Jude couldn’t prevent himself from boaking and he’d had to leave the table entirely. He’d ended up standing outside, downing a cup of black coffee and agreeing that he’d get something later. “What’d you think Jude?” Eppie asked. “Get as far north now, or stop for breakfast sooner? You’ve got the deciding vote!” Jude was brought back to the conversation with a bump and he floundered for a moment, staring around. There was a small rumble in his stomach, akin to a marble running round and round inside it, just making itself aware. “I’m cool with breakfast…” He answered, and Eppie punched the air in approval. “Yes!” She exclaimed.  “Fine,” Alba sighed. “I will stop at the next service station, okay?” Despite Alba’s verbal compliance, she did not look happy to be pulling over at the service station, and she stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest as they piled out, then headed into the 1960’s block building. The pickings were slim inside the service station; the options were Burger King or an overly expensive motorway shop.

“I wouldn’t normally eat chips at half eight in the morning,” Eden commented, picking genteelly into his cardboard tub and biting a single chip cleanly in half, “but I’m actually quite enjoying these!” Eppie laughed aloud, pocking off pickles from her burger. “Morning fast food does no harm every once in a while,” she said, flattening the top of her burger bun back into place and then picking it up. Alba was the only one who hadn’t bought anything from Burger King, opting instead for a coffee and flapjack from the shop, and sat with her nose slightly turned up as Eppie and Jude tucked into burgers while Eden munched on chips.  “I don’t know how you can eat that at this time,” she muttered. “It’s not hard – watch,” Jude picked up his bacon cheeseburger and took a massive bite, chewing overtly. “Mmmm!” “Oh Jude, do you have to?” Alba grimaced. “Yeah, I’m kinda with Alba there…” Eden agreed, pausing in eating his chips to look at Jude in disgust. “Mm, sorry,” Jude mumbled with his mouth still full. “I’m just hungry…” “Well stop talking and keep eating,” Alba instructed, “we can’t be here all day.” “Chill Alba!” Eppie nudged her gently. “We’ll finish quick as we can, then we can go.” Jude nodded in agreement and took another big bite of his burger. 

The order changed as they got back into the car; Eden now took the front seat, with Jude behind him, and Eppie behind the driver’s seat. A warm lethargy spread through Jude as he settled in the car, buckled in and pleasantly full after his burger. He watched, relaxed, as Alba pulled back onto the motorway and headed north. His relaxation didn’t last for very long, as in the back seat of the car, Jude was beginning to feel woozy. A heaviness travelled through him as he listened to the conversation between his friends, but he didn’t feel much like joining in. Instead he rested his head back onto the headrest and watched as cars whizzed past going in the other direction. He felt a warm clamminess creeping up his neck, and he casually tried to close the vent blowing the hot air in his direction. He exhaled a stream of air up his face, ruffling the front of his hair. Maybe if he had a nap it’d be alright; he closed his eyes and tried to take slow, measured breaths.

“This is why I didn’t want to stop earlier!” Jude awoke to a sudden slam on the brakes, and Alba’s bitter complaint. The car was now so warm that Jude felt like he was being baked within the tin box; his hair was sticking to his forehead as he ran a hand across his face, and he couldn’t identify whether it was Alba’s sharp breaking that had caused the back of his throat to close up. “What?” He asked suddenly, his mouth feeling dry and leathery. “We’re in a queue…” Alba responded irritably, even though Jude could clearly see this. “Ah…” He said slowly, sensing he’d missed some of this conversation while he’d been asleep. 

“If we’d kept going and not stopped, we would’ve missed this,” she moaned, Eppie rolled her eyes slightly. Jude saw Alba’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as the car jerked forward to draw up behind the car in front. Jude’s stomach had made a simultaneous lurch along with the car, and the heat on his face pulsed through his entire body. He shifted in his seat, sitting more upright as a wave of nausea ran through him. Jude took a sharp intake of breath, fastening one hand on the grip in the door and placing the other tentatively on his stomach. He wished he hadn’t eaten that burger now, as the taut, hungry feeling in his belly had turned into a swirling clamouring mix. Even thinking about the burger made him convinced that he could taste it. He thought what Alba’s reaction would be if he asked her to pull over for some fresh air, and shrunk back into his seat. Then an idea hit him, and he wound his window down just a slither, so a stream of cold air was hitting his face directly. It was wonderfully refreshing after the heat in the car, but Eppie along from him had noticed. “Are you alright?” She muttered quietly, frowning slightly; Jude simply nodded his head, mainly out of fear of what might happen if he opened his mouth. In truth he was downright nauseous and trying not to let it be known – as Alba was already on a short fuse. He swallowed, trying to ignore the jerkiness of Alba’s driving now they were in a queue; he closed his eyes, hoping that he might drift off to sleep again, but his stomach had other ideas. “Hii’bbbbbrrrrlll!” He felt the splash of liquid and then something warm and damp soaking into his front, even as his eyes were shut. “Oh my god! Fuck, Alba – fuck!” Eppie’s voice exclaimed loudly, and Jude opened his eyes just as his stomach heaved for the second time. “Hggggrrrruuuuaaaaaarrrlllkk!” Jude saw the cream upholstery of Alba’s car being splattered with puke, and he knew it was coming from him, but he couldn’t stop. He leant forwards, spreading his legs apart to avoid coating himself in vomit. “Huuuuaaarrrrghh!” “Jude? Oh holy hell!” Eden had joined in the buzz of noise going on in the car. Jude rested his hand on the back of Eden’s chair, watery saliva dripping from his lips onto the sick splattered carpet on the floor. “Oh shit Alba, you need to pull over!” Eppie unbuckled her seatbelt and shuffled as far towards Jude as she could without herself being coated in puke. Jude could feel himself trembling, tears pouring down his cheeks as he panted – open mouthed; his stomach jerking every few seconds. Eppie squeezed Jude’s shoulder gently, and he could hear Eden telling him it was going to be okay – but it didn’t feel like it was. “Hhh-bbbrrruuuaarrp!” The meaty belch rumbled out of Jude, who put his free hand to his tightening chest. “Rruuuaaarrkkk!” A copious gush of puke poured from Jude’s mouth and nose, splashing over his knees, the seat and the floor; he could see the burger that he’d eaten only an hour or so previous, and that sent another gargling wave of sick forcing up his throat: “Hiiickkkuuuurrllluuurrrgg….” “Alba, you need to stop,” Eppie insisted, sounding scared, “he’s really not well…” “I’m stopping – trust me! I’m stopping!” Alba called. “I’m – bahhurrrllf…” Jude tried to apologise but he couldn’t stop the heave, and another mouthful of puke joined the mess in the back of the car. “Sor-heugh…” “Don’t speak Jude,” Eppie told him, her hand rubbing across his shoulders. “Just breathe…” “Hrreeeaaauuuhh!” With every inhale Jude took, another wave of puke was ejected from his stomach, erupting up his oesophagus and out his mouth. His head was pounding now and a lightheaded fuzziness washed over him as he couldn’t get a breath in, he closed his eyes, still retching, small white lights were popping behind his closed eyes. “Okay… okay, you’re alright,” the next thing Jude knew he was leaning hard against something, and when he opened his eyes blearily he realised it was Eppie holding him upright, and panic was evident in the car. “Please, please Alba!” “I’m stopping! I’m on the slip road, okay?” Alba replied in earnest. Another sick belch caught in Jude’s throat, liquid dribbled down his chin as the car came to an abrupt halt; Jude could hear a feeble whimpering as a wall of cold air hit his face. “Oh God, oh Lord Jude,” Eden’s hand were cold on Jude’s clammy face, “open your eyes for me Jude, please?” Jude prized his eyes open, tears pooling in them and looked into Eden’s pale, worried, face. “Oh God, I don’t know what to do…” “We need to get him out of the car,” Eppie instructed, still holding Jude up. “Get him in the fresh air. Grab his legs Eden,” Jude couldn’t do anything, he felt weak as hands gripped at his knees and then he as being bodily handled out of the car and onto the grass verge. The movement tipped him over the edge again, and he retched hard, his stomach aching as there was nothing left to bring up. Finally he was settled, lying on his side, and something was propping him up from the waist; Jude couldn’t stop the gagging, it was getting drier and drier as it continued, hurting his throat more and more. Someone was stroking the side of his face soothingly, and they continued while Jude calmed down. After a long while Jude opened his eyes, he was being cradled by Eden, who was murmuring quietly: “It’s okay, I’ve got you… I’ve got you Jude.” “Mmmmnnn Ede….?” Jude whined, his throat hoarse from the effort of puking. “It’s okay,” Eden reassured. 

“Hrrrk!” A heave grated at Jude’s chest and Eden rolled him forwards slightly so the trickle of bile fell into the grass. “Oh Jude… This isn’t just motion sickness, is it?” Jude shook his head, his lip trembling as he tried to hold back more tears. “No…” He whispered. “Oh love… I’ve got you safe. We’ll get you back in the car, and I’m gonna wrap you up and you can just sleep, I’ll look after you…” Eden told him, rubbing his back as Jude spat a mouthful of stringy saliva into the grass. “I’m – huh – sorry…” Jude choked weakly. “No, no, you can’t help it, no need for sorry…” Eden insisted. “Just rest into me… I promise I’ve got you…”

[emetoing]

welcome to all my new followers! if any of you would be interested in supporting me on patreon for access to exclusive non-emeto writing, dm me and i can give you the link!

[emetoing]

#19 and #5 in combination... if it's still possible!

i decided to combine the prompts provided by these two asks since they all work so well together in one story. this is one of the longest ones that i’ve posted so far. i hope you guys like it!

12. “Why’d you let me eat that?”19. “I’m starting to feel really sick in the backseat…”5. “I need to throw up.”

Despite the sweltering summer heat and the throngs of people surrounding his small group of friends, Martin was having a good time at the state fair. He used to hate it when he was younger, because Kendall and their parents would always pressure him to go on the rides, and he’d almost always end up being sick.

That wasn’t an issue anymore, though. This year, he was here with Khalil and two of their other friends, Angelica and Winnie. Khalil was closer with them than Martin was, but he was enjoying himself nonetheless. When the others wanted to go on a ride, Martin would hold their phones and eat cotton candy nearby until they were done. It was a beneficial situation for everyone involved.

By the time things were winding down and everyone was nearly ready to leave, Angelica suggested that they grab dinner before they go. None of them had eaten a proper meal since lunch, and they all agreed wholeheartedly as she directed them towards her favorite food stall. It smelled amazing, and it blended in perfectly with the rest of the fair: bright colors, fried food, and people chattering away at every corner. They had to wait in line for a good twenty minutes, but it was worth it for the food they were served.

“This is amazing, Angelica,” said Winnie through a mouthful of fried chicken. She chewed and swallowed, wiping her mouth before saying. “I mean, I’ve had fair food, but… this is fair food.”

It was a strange sentiment, but Martin had to agree. “Thanks for taking us here, Angelica,” he said, smiling as he ate a couple more greasy fries. His phone buzzed and he looked down, seeing a text from Khalil. He glanced up at his boyfriend, his brow furrowed, but looked down to check the text when he saw his earnest expression.

don’t eat too much. still got the car ride home.

Right. They’d carpooled here in Angelica’s car. It was a bit of a rough ride, but Martin’s stomach had been relatively empty at the time, and getting to know Khalil’s friends had been a good distraction from the bumps and turns of the road. He texted Khalil back, i’ll be fine but thanks baby.

Martin finished his hotdog and fries fairly quickly, and then they all ended up splitting a funnel cake. It tasted amazing, but Martin began to feel the slightest twinge of regret as they walked to the car together through the dark field that connected the fairgrounds to the parking lot. His stomach gurgled a bit, protesting at how quickly he’d taken in such a large amount of greasy food, but he told himself he’d be fine as he felt Khalil’s hand in his. He’d just distract himself again.

That proved to be much more difficult than it seemed once they were on the road. Angelica was driving Martin and Khalil back to Khalil’s apartment, which was about half an hour away from the fairgrounds. Five or so minutes into the ride, Martin was already feeling waves of nausea roll through his stomach. He shifted in his seat; he and Khalil were in the back, Angelica and Winnie in the front.

“You okay?” Khalil said under his breath. The girls likely wouldn’t have heard him over their music and conversation regardless, but he wanted to be safe.

“Not really,” Martin replied, shifting uncomfortably and cradling his stomach with his hand. “The food from the fair is just sitting like a rock. Why did you let me eat that?”

“I tried to tell you to go easy,” Khalil says, sighing slightly. “Do you feel like you’re gonna—?”

“No,” Martin insisted. “I’ll be fine.” His stomach gurgled loudly as he said it, but he stood by his point, despite the nausea growing more difficult to bear with each passing minute.

Without anything to distract him from the road, Martin simply focused on taking deep breaths. Each sharp turn made his nausea spike, and one unexpected bump knocked a loud burp out of him. One of the girls in the front seat laughed. “Y’all doing alright back there?” said Winnie jokingly.

“No,” Martin said through his teeth. Khalil looked over at him, the surprise evident on his face. Martin was usually a grin-and-bear-it type when they were with other people; he was only ever vocal about feeling poorly when it was just him and Khalil. He must have felt awful to be speaking so frankly with Angelica and Winnie. “I’m starting to feel really sick in the backseat…” he admitted, groaning as Angelica took another sharp turn.

“Sorry!” she said. “Do you need me to pull over? I don’t mind!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Martin said, shifting once again and taking a deep breath as he stifled a gag with his hand. Khalil shook his head, baffled that Martin was still denying that he needed help. The next few minutes of the car ride were awkwardly silent aside from the music still playing and the occasional gurgle of Martin’s stomach. Khalil watched him intently, trying to make sure he wasn’t going to throw up in his lap or something. He could tell Martin just wanted to make a good impression on Khalil’s friends, but that was sort of out of the question now.

They were less than ten minutes away from Khalil’s apartment when Angelica, momentarily forgetting about the situation at hand, rounded a corner a bit too quickly. “I need to throw up,” Martin said, sitting up quickly and placing a hand in front of his mouth.

“Shit, I’ll pull over,” said Angelica.

“No need, Angie.” Khalil had already pulled a plastic bag out of his backpack, and he now opened it up and thrust it into Martin’s hands as he finally gave into a forceful gag. Nothing came up the first time, but another heave followed directly after, sending a stream of watery vomit into the bag. “I’m sorry, Angie,” Khalil said, rubbing Martin’s back as he held the plastic bag with trembling hands. “Sorry, Winnie.”

Almost as if to punctuate Khalil’s apology, Martin heaved again, a belch escaping with another large wave of puke. He could taste the grease of his undigested fair food dinner as it came back up, and the sight and smell combined with the bumps of the road caused him to retch again, letting out a thicker wave that filled the bag about three quarters of the way full.

“Do you have another bag?” Martin said, his voice slightly raspy. Khalil felt around in his backpack, but he’d only packed one. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, babe. You can hold on for five more minutes, can’t you?” Martin sighed and nodded, but a few seconds later he gagged again and puked up a wave just large enough to fill the bag and splash over onto Martin’s hands, the tiniest bit of it making it into his lap. “Pull over, please, Angelica,” Khalil said, his voice loud but still calm and controlled.

It took her a moment, but she quickly found a place to pull over. As she stopped the car, Khalil reached over Martin and opened his door for him, helping him out before he could make a mess of Angelica’s car. When Martin was out of his seat, Khalil got out as well and circled the car, helping his boyfriend walk a few feet away from the car before he doubled over and puked again. Still holding the overfilled plastic bag in his hands, he attempted to contain it a bit, but most of it splashed onto the ground and his shoes.

When he finished another wave of vomiting, Khalil heard Martin’s breath hitch, and he realized he was crying. “It’s okay,” he said softly, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the tears from Martin’s eyes. “I know. I know. You’ll be alright.”

After taking a moment to collect himself, Martin sniffled and lifted the bag he was holding. “What do I do with this?” he said.

“Uh… leave it here, I guess. I don’t see a trashcan anywhere.”

“That’s pollution,” Martin said, tears welling up in his eyes again. Frustrated, Khalil felt his forehead to see if he might be running a fever, but he felt fine. He was probably just overwhelmed after vomiting in front of Khalil’s friends, and in their car, no less.

It took a moment, but eventually Khalil convinced Martin to leave the plastic bag and come back to the car, where he fished the baby wipes out of his backpack and handed them to Martin so he could clean himself up a bit. He made it the rest of the ride without being sick, but as soon as they stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of Khalil’s apartment building, Martin leaned over and retched into the grass, a small wave of puke pooling at his feet.

After making sure his boyfriend was okay, Khalil leaned down and apologized to Angelica through her car window, thanking her for giving them a ride. He’d warned her ahead of time about his boyfriend’s car sickness, but it was still a pretty unfortunate situation. Once the girls had left and Martin was able to climb the stairs to the apartment without feeling sick, they finally made their way home and were able to relax after the long night they’d both had.

[emetoing]

Thoughts on seasickness?

i love it! i’m a big fan of motion sickness stories, and while (in my opinion) it’s not as fun as certain other types of motion sickness (carsickness has the element of being in an enclosed space, planes are enclosed and very public, etc) it’s definitely still up there on my list!

[emetoing]

got a laptop. got bored. made this.

poor curly baby who really shouldn’t be at school and definitely shouldn’t have eaten lunch 

[emetoing]

Ah hah sounds like so much fun!!!! How about Jack eating like way way too much, and then feels really sick and puking. At first he laughs it off like “Ha I overdid it stupid me” but then it keeps going and getting more and more painful and his nonchalance quickly melts away as it turns out something he’d eaten had gone bad and he had food poisoning and is miserable. Ilysm!!! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Oh my days, I hadn’t realised this was your prompt G, but thank you super much for giving me it and I’m sorry it’s taken this long to get to it. I’m using it for the Jack prompt for my oc challenge. I hope you enjoy - and I’m sorry it’s so short! 💙

Jack ran his hand over his stomach, leaning back contentedly in his chair. Nothing could really beat a homemade meal - even if it was just leftovers from the other day. He’d eaten both the tubs in the fridge - once he’d warmed them up, he kind of had to eat them. Lasagna and curry didn’t really go together, but Jack wasn’t fussy.

“Brruuuaaarrpp!” He belched richly, pushing his plate away from him. He was so full that he didn’t want to get up and clear his plate away.

The door opened and closed, and a few second later, Blake’s mop of curly hair preceded him into the kitchen.

“Hiya!” Blake greeted him, sounding chipper.

“Hey,” Jack smiled, he was still rubbing his hand across his belly, which felt taut and firm. “How was band practice?”

“Good!” Blake replied enthusiastically. “We’re learning a couple of new songs.” He glanced at the tubs in the sink, and Jack’s empty plate. “Were you hungry?”

“Ah, yeah, just a bit,” Jack grinned sheepishly, rubbing a circle on the flesh of his stomach. “I didn’t realise how much there was in each tub - hic!” Jack admitted.

“Classic case of eyes bigger than belly?” Blake asked, flicking on the kettle to make a drink.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded, “and now I’m suffering for it…” He tried to adjust his position on his chair, moving his legs apart so there was space for his stomach. His belly was pulsing inside him, filled right to breaking point, the warm contented feeling had faded, and been replaced with the discomfort of being overfull.

“Oh Jack,” Blake chuckled, shaking his head a little. “What are you like?”

“Incorrigible…” Jack mumbled, straightening up in his chair; his stomach was beginning to churn unpleasantly, and he swallowed back mouthful after mouthful of liquidy saliva as he felt progressively sicker by the second.

“I think you’ve proved these last few months that you’re not as incorrigible as you used to be!” Blake answered, pouring water into his mug. Jack’s stomach gave an almighty lurch, and he had to fight the urge to gag. His legs were shaking as he pushed himself off his chair, he leant heavily on the table - feeling his stomach clenching and tensing. Blake turned towards Jack, stirring the sugar into his tea, and then he frowned. “Are you alright?”

Jack shook his head shortly, then wished he hadn’t as the movement seemed to reverberate in his brain and a rush of dizziness flowed from his head down through the rest of his body.

“I’m gonna - throw up - hmmmlllk!” Jack muttered, then a heave caught him off guard and he doubled forwards, both hands clutching to his mouth. He fought out from behind the table, his throat squeezing as it tried to force the food back up from his stomach. He ran, as soon as he was free from the table, to the bathroom - desperately hoping he could hold on long enough.

“Jack?” Blake put down his cup of tea so abruptly that some of it spilled over the side and he rushed to follow Jack.

Jack only just made it to the toilet in time. A strong heave forced up from his stomach as he clasped his hands around the edge of the porcelain.

“K’rrrrllllllleeeeueuuuuuurrrgghhh!” The heave brought up a gush of food he’d just eaten; his stomach felt the pressure of him leaning forwards, so he forced himself to stand up straight.

“God Jack - are you okay?” Blake asked, putting his hand to Jack’s shoulder as he straightened up; then Blake rolled his eyes at what a stupid question that was. “I mean-”

“I think I’ve eaten… too much,” he struggled, flushing the toilet as he leant against the wall. “Overdone it…”

“You sure?” Blake didn’t sound convinced as he looked at Jack.

Jack flicked his hair out of his eyes, then rubbed his chest as it still felt like it was burning. “Well, if it’s not alcohol, food’s the next best option…” He hoped that once he’d got some of the excess out he might feel better, but instead his gut seemed to be roiling even worse.

“Jack…” Blake started to reprimand him.

“H’yyeeeuuurrrrkkkkll! He doubled forwards over the toilet, bringing up another harsh wave of puke, which caught at the back of his throat and made him retch harder. “Brrrlllllluuuurrrrggghhh!”

“God Jack,” Blake muttered, biting his lip. Jack sunk to his knees so he was crouching in front of the toilet; he could feel himself shaking as his gut gave another squeeze.

“Hllluuuurrggghh!” He coughed up another splattering of sick, leaning far enough forwards for his forehead to touch the back of the toilet seat; Blake began to rub Jack’s back gently. “Huuuaaarrrlllkk!”

Blake frowned: “Are you sure this is just cause you ate too much?”

Jack had just been thinking the same thing - the way his stomach was churning inside him didn’t feel the same as when he’d simply overstuffed it. He was still shivering, and he could feel sweat beading across his forehead.

“Not - urgh -  sure,” he forced, gagging weakly.

“Maybe there was something not right with the food?” Blake suggested. “It had been in the fridge a few days…”

“Uuuugh…” Jack groaned, wrapping both arms around his midriff. “Huuuuurrrrkkklll…” A splash of bile came up, and Jack closed his eyes as he heard.

“Maybe you’ve got food poisoning,” Blake voiced the thing that Jack didn’t want to hear.

“Uggh…” He gagged, then nodded his head in defeat. “Doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh Jack, I’m sorry,” Blake squeezed his hands on Jack’s shoulders for a second, and he whimpered. “You’ll feel better once it’s all out, I promise.”

“Mmm…” Jack hummed, breathing slowly. “Hrrk!” He heaved again, then shuffled his feet underneath him. “Might - might be here - a while…” He muttered feebly as his stomach lurched again.

“Don’t worry,” Blake told him firmly. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Hmmlllk!” A small mouthful of sick fell into the water; Blake began to massage his hand across Jack’s back once more. “Thanks…”

[emetoing]

can y'all send some asks that are like “thoughts on ______”

[emetoing]

May i request 11 or 21 for the emeto-ish prompts? 😇😇

thank you so much for the prompt! i chose to do 21, because i’ve been dying to write a story about Martin’s motion sickness. it’s more of a drabble than a full-blown story, because i’ve been super busy this week. i’ll get to the other prompts in my inbox when i find the time later this week!

21. “I’ve been seasick since before we even left the dock.”

“Doing okay, Martin?” Khalil said tentatively, rubbing his boyfriend’s back as Martin leaned precariously over the side of the ferry boat they had boarded about ten minutes ago. Martin answered him with a sickly heave that sent another wave of his lunch splashing into the water beneath them. Khalil felt bad for dragging him out here, having naively assumed that Martin’s motion sickness only extended to cars and planes. Well, and buses. And trains sometimes, too.

Alright, maybe he should have expected this.

“Do you need some water?” Khalil said, offering Martin his half-full water bottle. “Have you been remembering to look at the horizon?” In an effort to compensate for the fact that he had put Martin in this situation, he was trying to be even more considerate than he usually was when Martin fell victim to motion sickness.

“Nothing works,” Martin sighed after another harsh retch. Despite his pessimism, he took the offer for a drink of water and used it to rinse out his mouth. “I’ve been seasick since before we even left the dock.”

“I’m real sorry, babe,” Khalil said for probably the third time since the boat had left shore. “I wouldn’t have let this happen if you’d said something. I’ll ask next time. We’re almost there, anyway. Look.”

Martin glanced up at the island that they were headed towards, and he had to admit that it was gorgeous. They’d been in the Northwestern part of France for the past week visiting some of Khalil’s extended family members, and this was one of the most gorgeous things that Martin had seen their entire visit—a lush green island populated with colorful villas and small, medieval-looking shops along a winding trail that led into a forested area.

Martin was enjoying the view for a good few seconds before he ducked his head and vomited again, a thick wave of puke splattering sickeningly against the side of the boat as it left his mouth. Khalil sighed, eaten away by guilt as he went back to rubbing Martin’s back. “We’re almost there,” he repeated, as a reminder to both Martin and himself.

“I can’t wait,” Martin said, spitting out the aftermath of his fourth wave of vomiting. “And I’m even more excited for the boat ride back.”

[emetoing]

Do any of your OCs have allergies of some sort?

Beau is lactose intolerant and Isaiah is allergic to citrus, but those are the only food-related allergies my OCs have! other than that, Martin is allergic to pollen and codeine, and Bea is allergic to latex. thanks for the question!

[emetoing]

What are the relationships between your OCs? Because I noticed some of them have the same last name and it would be helpful to know in order to decide who to request with who :)

thanks for the question!

Martin and Kendall are siblings, and Evelyn and Beau are siblings as well. Martin is in a relationship with Khalil; Kendall is married to Bea; and Beau is married to Angelo. Evelyn and Isaiah are best friends, and Bea and Angelo are coworkers. those are the major relationships, but aside from that, everyone is connected or acquainted in some way! on the page on my blog that describes my OCs, it lists their important relationships at the end of each paragraph.

[emetoing]

good emeto content

when a person is throwing up in a container & it’s nearly full… and they’re still nauseous

+bonus: when they’re trying to hold it back bc they don’t wanna make a mess and their companion reassures them & tells them that they can clean up later

[emetoing]

How about a combination of 5 and 26? :)

thanks so much for the prompt! it took me a bit to figure out what to write for these prompts, but i eventually decided to do something a little different from what i usually do. this fic focuses on Evelyn and her roommate Angelica.

5. “I need to throw up.” and 26. “Hand me the trashcan… please.”

tw: alcohol

A door slammed, and Angelica jumped where she was sitting on her couch. Her nerves were alight with fear for a moment before she turned and saw Evelyn standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall and trying to take off her shoes without toppling over. Not an angry door slam, but a drunk door slam. Angelica couldn’t decide which was worse, but she was beginning to lean towards the latter as Evelyn was finally able to wrestle off her heels and made her way over to the loveseat, collapsing next to Angelica and reeking of vodka. Angelica scooted over to give her wasted roommate a bit of space.

“Did you have fun tonight?” she said, holding back a sigh as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked back down at the writing assignment that she’d been working on before.

“I guess,” said Evelyn, her head resting lifelessly against the back of the loveseat. “I had a good time with my friends but they left early so then I didn’t really like anyone there and I think I did too many jello shots.”

Angelica couldn’t stifle her laugh. “Maybe you should go to bed,” she said. “You’ll probably feel better in the morning.”

“Or I’ll feel even more like shit.” They both laughed quietly and then fell into a comfortable silence, Angelica focused on her assignment and Evelyn scrolling lazily through her phone. Every few seconds, her stomach would make a strange noise, and she would shift as if trying to get comfortable, but Angelica tried to ignore it. That sort of thing was bound to happen when you put your body through all the things Evelyn did. She worried about her roommate sometimes, but at least she was here to make sure that Evelyn would make it through tonight.

A few minutes of peaceful silence later, Evelyn belched loudly, and Angelica glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “You good?” she said, still trying to devote most of her attention to her writing.

Almost imperceptible from Angelica’s peripheral vision, Evelyn shook her head. “I need to throw up,” she said heavily, shifting again so that she was sitting up straighter. That caught Angelica’s attention, and she looked over as Evelyn leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She covered her mouth with her hand as she burped again.

“Are you sure?” Evelyn said. She wasn’t afraid of vomit or anything, but it wasn’t fun to deal with either. She would also prefer that Evelyn go somewhere else, like the bathroom. Even the kitchen sink would be better than just leaning over the living room carpet like she seemed to be doing now. Before Evelyn could respond, she belched again, holding up a finger as if telling Angelica to wait.

There was a pause in which Evelyn seemed to be trying to swallow something, and then she said quietly, “Hand me the trashcan… please.”

Shifting into fight or flight mode, Angelica abandoned her writing assignment and stood up, grabbing the trashcan from beside the couch and thrusting it into Evelyn’s hands just as she belched again and brought up a wave of watery, bright blue puke. Angelica stood back for a moment before realizing that some of Evelyn’s hair was escaping her ponytail, and she dove in to pull the thick strands out of her face as she vomited cerulean again.

“It’s okay,” Angelica said, sighing as Evelyn heaved over the wastebasket. “Get it all out.” With her hand not pulling back Evelyn’s hair, she rubbed her back gently, resisting the urge to wince as Evelyn retched harshly and threw up a thicker wave of puke.

After a few more minutes of belching and heaving, Evelyn seemed to be empty. Angelica let her catch her breath, disappearing to the kitchen for a moment and returning with a wet rag to help Evelyn wipe her face and clean out the tiny bits of puke that had somehow gotten into her hair. As Angelica took care of her, Evelyn set the trashcan down on the ground, her vomit sloshing around inside as she did so.

“How do you feel?” Angelica said.

“Guess.”

“Shitty.” Evelyn just nodded. “Well, why don’t you take a hot shower and then go to bed? Maybe your hangover won’t be as bad since your stomach is already empty. Is that how it works?”

“I dunno,” Evelyn mumbled. “But a shower sounds good.” She sighed and pulled herself off the couch, heading slowly and still a bit unsteadily towards the bathroom. Before she went in and shut the door, she turned to look at Angelica, who was attempting to take care of the trashcan, and said, “Hey, Ang. I’m sorry. I know I put you in this position a lot, and I really just wanna say… thank you. I appreciate it. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Angelica said, shaking her head. “I understand. Just go take your shower.” She tried for an awkward smile.

“Will do.” Evelyn returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Evelyn.”

[emetoing]

introducing my OCs

hey guys! i’m amazed by what a warm welcome i’ve received from this community within just a few days, and the support i’ve gotten from the few pieces of writing i’ve posted so far. while i work on another request, i wanted to write up a quick post to introduce you all to my characters and what sort of scenarios you’ll typically see them in. you can read a little more about each of them and their relationships with one another here.

to start out, i typically give my characters roles within emeto scenarios—always a caretaker, always a sickie, or versatile (lmao). my two characters that are always caretakers are Bea Kline and Khalil King. they both have stomachs of steel and are never caught in scenarios that would make them ill.

my characters that are always sickies are Martin Goldfeld and Isaiah Gonzales. Martin is never a caretaker because he is a sympathy puker, and Isaiah is never a caretaker because he is highly emetophobic, and seeing other people vomit (as well as vomiting himself) makes him panic.

the rest of my characters (Kendall Kline, Evelyn Chey, and Beau and Angelo Chey-Blackwell) are versatile, meaning that they can take either role depending on the fic and the request that i receive!

below the cut is a list of what each character is most sensitive to in terms of throwing up!

Martin Goldfeld — prone to motion sickness, viruses, and sympathy puking

Kendall Kline — frequently exposed to viruses and other bacteria

Evelyn Chey — tends to overindulge, both on food and on alcohol

Beau Chey-Blackwell — occasionally suffers from nausea-inducing migraines, also lactose intolerant but unaware

Angelo Chey-Blackwell — has a very weak stomach but very adventurous tastebuds, also tends to overindulge

Isaiah Gonzales — his immune system typically comes in clutch, but when it doesn’t, he panicks and does everything he can to avoid throwing up (which doesn’t always work)

if you read this far: thanks for reading! i hope you all have enjoyed what you’ve read of my characters so far.

[emetoing]

Either 4 or 6 please! Or a combination of both. I absolutely love your writing, keep up the good work! ❤️❤️

thank you so much for the request and the compliment! i decided to do 4, because i already had an idea brewing that worked well with that one. this fic centers around my characters Beau and Angelo, who are married. hope you enjoy!

4. “My stomach is really messed up right now.”

When Angelo sat down next to his husband on the couch, a low burp escaped him, and he stifled it with his hand. “Sorry,” he said, sighing and leaning back. He couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position in this state; no matter how he sat, his stomach found a way to make it unbearable. As he let out another burp, he just hoped that he would make it through tonight without being sick, because it would only be his fault if he did. He knew that he never handled spicy food well, yet he’d insisted on having curry from his favorite food truck for lunch that day.

“You okay, Angelo?” said Beau, shifting to make room for his restless husband. He could tell by his behavior alone that he’d eaten something today that didn’t agree with him.

“Yeah,” Angelo said. “My stomach is just really messed up right now.”

“What’s the culprit this time?” Beau responded. “I thought I made a pretty mild dinner tonight.”

“I had curry for lunch,” Angelo said, smiling guiltily. Beau shook his head. As much as Angelo wanted to love spicy food, his body consistently denied him that privilege, and he typically ended up like this anytime he tried to power through it—shifting around on the couch and attempting to watch a movie with his husband, stifling burps every few seconds. There was a silence for a moment, in which Angelo’s stomach seemed to calm down and he was able to focus on the movie at hand. Some cheesy old sci-fi flick, right up Beau’s alley. Just as he was starting to get into it, however, he let out a loud burp and felt acid at the back of his throat. The curry was coming back with a vengeance, it seemed.

With a long sigh, Angelo pushed himself off of the couch and headed for their bathroom. This was sort of routine for him, so he expected to have to stand over the toilet for a second burping wetly before anything would come up. He was taken by surprise, however, when a wave of nausea ripped through him with no warning, and he almost didn’t make it to the toilet. He quickly pulled open the lid, forgetting to pull up the seat with it, and heaved a violent torrent of vomit into the bowl, some of it landing on the seat and a bit on the floor as well. In a vain effort to reduce the mess, he sunk to his knees as he loudly belched out another wave of red-hued vomit.

The one thing that didn’t catch Angelo by surprise was Beau appearing in the doorway seconds later. He pulled a face at the smell, but still took a step closer, setting down a box of tissues and a glass of ice water on the counter next to Angelo. He knew the routine at this point, too. Angelo heaved a few more times before his stomach finally gave up, and he sat back, taking deep breaths for a moment before he flushed the toilet.

“All good?” Beau said, offering him a tissue. Angelo took it gratefully and wiped his mouth, blowing his nose as well to clear it out.

“Not really.” He picked up the water and took a sip. It didn’t do much to get rid of the taste in his mouth or quell the sick feeling that lingered in his stomach, but it soothed his throat and made him realize how thirsty he was. He drank the whole glass before setting it back down on the counter and continuing. “Normally I feel better afterwards. After getting it all out. But my stomach still feels… off. Like, I’m still weirdly nauseous.”

“Are you sick?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he said, sighing. “I don’t think I have a fever or anything like that. I feel fine other than my stomach.” As if on cue, another burp escaped his mouth and he leaned over the toilet as he puked up a wave of the water that he’d just drank. He took a deep breath, but before he could exhale, he was throwing up again, and he continued heaving until nothing was coming out.

“Better now?” Beau said hopefully. Angelo shook his head. “Well, I didn’t want to say this, but… maybe it’s not just your stomach’s normal reaction to spicy food. Maybe there was something wrong with the curry. Does it feel like you might have food poisoning?”

Angelo groaned. “I hope not. I love that food truck! To think that they’d betray me like that…” As he trailed off, he belched again, and a small wave of stomach acid splashed into the toilet.

“It seems they’ve plotted against you,” Beau said, rubbing Angelo’s back gently. “Let’s get you into bed. I’ll bring you some water, and we can brainstorm ideas for lunch places that won’t make you puke your guts out when we’re trying to watch a movie together.”

“Ugh, sorry, Beau,” Angelo said, starting to pull himself off the floor as he flushed the toilet for the second time. “I didn’t mean to ruin movie night.”

“Quit apologizing. Bed, now.”

“Got it. Thank you, babe.” Beau kissed Angelo on the cheek, pointedly avoiding his mouth, and Angelo smiled. “I’ll be in bed.”

“I’ll see you there.”