#puke prompts

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Clingy sickie prompts🫂:

1. "Can you please just hold me?"

2. Koala hold (legs around waist, arms around neck)

3. Cries when put down or when caretaker moves

4. Sleeping in caretaker's bed

5. Touched out caretaker and sickie who's too miserable to care

6. "Carry me..."

7. Caretaker gets barfed on. Sickie still won't get off them.

8. Wiping tears/nose on caretaker's shoulder

9. "Rub/pat my back..."

10. "Ugh, you're so gonna get me sick."

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One of my favorite tropes has to be the classic "gonna hurl" pose with the "looking green" a tad exaggerated. Like this😌🤢

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Sickie groaning and shifting over to cuddle caretaker as they announce, "I don't feel so good.."

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A is sharing a bed with B, who has a stomach bug. Therefore A is treated to a long night of retching, coughing and burping, way too close for comfort as B is using a bucket in bed instead of getting up

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Plsss can I request a really sick Catherine with a stomach flu and George taking care of her 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Oh that sounds lovely! I got so excited when I saw this ask lol. Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy it!

Catherine the Great(ly nauseous)

A The Great sickfic

It was a normal day at the Winter Palace...well, as normal as it ever was, that is. The court ladies huddled around an ornate spread of various pastries and finger foods, gossip flowing faster than the fountains in the palace gardens. Although, if one were to look closely, there was something amiss...

It seemed that Catherine wasn't partaking in the food and chatting as she usually did. She sat alone, open book in her lap that she clearly wasn't focused on. She hadn't turned a page in half an hour.

Georgina was the first to notice, as she licked honey off her fingers. She turned and strutted across the room. "Empress?" She started. "Are you feeling alright? You've been awfully quiet today." She said, her tone oddly sincere. Catherine looked up, finally closing the book in her lap.

"Oh...yes. Yes, I'm fine, George. Thank you."

George raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, I feel you're lying to me." She said. "If you're hiding something...I will find out. You know that."

Catherine sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Yes, of course...I'm just feeling a bit unwell, that's all. It's nothing."

The brunette sat down next to her. "Unwell? Unwell how?" She asked. Catherine eyed her warily for a moment. Georgina wasn't usually one to show concern, but she seemed sincere.

Catherine sighed. "It's my stomach, mostly. I feel like I've been drinking all night...although I haven't. " she explained. "I feel...queasy...my stomach is all bubbly and it keeps hurting off and on."

George nodded, listening. "Too many figs, perhaps?" She suggested. Catherine shook her head. "No.. I haven't eaten too much. Or much at all, for that matter. I wasn't very hungry last night at dinner..."

George raised an eyebrow. "That's odd...maybe you should go lie down."

Catherine didn't need to be told twice. She stood up, involuntarily holding George's arm for support; she looked dizzy.

George stood up, putting an arm around the empress, and helped her walk to her room.

Immediately upon arriving in her lavish apartments, Catherine began the inconvenient process of changing into her nightgown. Not feeling the need to summon a maid, George opted to help her herself. She untied her corset and helped her remove the layers of skirt, then change into a soft, comfortable nightgown. Catherine didn't hesitate to crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

It was clear now that the empress was feeling very ill...her face was pale, her eyes watering as she fought back tears. George noticed this immediately. "Are...are you crying?" She asked.

Catherine didn't try to deny it; she nodded as tears began to run down her pale cheeks. "I feel so sick...my stomach hurts. " she sobbed. For an awkward moment, George didn't know what to do. She'd never been the comforting type...but she knew she couldn't just stand there. She stepped over and sat next to the crying empress on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in hers.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked. Catherine shook her head, shoulders shaking with soft sobs. The brunette pulled a handkerchief from the folds of her skirt, wiping Catherine's tear streaked cheeks with it. She comforted her for what must've been an hour..before Catherine fell asleep.

When she woke, the sun was beginning to set. George had hoped she'd wake up feeling better, but, no such luck. The empress sprang up as if yanked out of bed, a soft yelp of pain escaping her lips as she threw off the covers and made a beeline for the chamber pot. She'd barely had time to squat and hold up her gown before a violent bout of diarrhea took over.

George had to fight the urge to grimace from her seat on the couch. "Oh dear..." she said, her tone both alarmed and sympathetic. "Are...are you ok?" She asked. As if the answer wasn't obvious.

Catherine shook her head, tears once again running down her cheeks. Her arms wrapped around her cramping stomach, her poor body making noises that would make Peter proud. She cursed under her breath as what little color was left drained from her face. "I'm gonna throw up.." she said, voice strained.

"You...you what?" George asked, standing up in a panic, frantically looking for a container. But there wasn't time. Poor Catherine let out a wet belch and spewed all across the floor and rug. George could do nothing but watch in horror as the empress vomited up an amount that seemed ridiculous coming from such a small, pretty woman.

Drool and bile dripped from her lips as she caught her breath, bursting into tears as soon as air filled her lungs. The sound snapped George out of her trance.

"Oh....oh Catherine." She muttered, stepping around the mess and crouching to rub Catherine's back. "Don't cry, don't cry, it's ok." She said, using the handkerchief to once again wipe her tears and mouth. But Catherine was inconsolable. She sobbed for her mother, for Peter, for Leo, Marial...blubbered about missing home and how embarrassed she was...it was heartbreaking. George helped her off the chamber pot and back into bed, patting her back and making rhythmic hushing sounds in an attempt to soothe her. It took a while, but eventually, Catherine did calm down. She'd nearly cried herself to sleep by the time the sobs quieted.

She'd fallen asleep with her head on George's lap as the other woman patted and rubbed her back. George breathed a sigh of relief, afraid to move a muscle and risk waking the sick empress.

Another twenty minutes passed before Catherine woke again, and nothing had improved. An involuntary retch bubbled up her throat and she found herself puking again...this time, all over George...

George froze, eyes wide as she fought every instinct that told her to push her away, to scream, or start heaving herself. But instead she forced out a "It's ok...".

Her skirt was soaked through, the warmth leaking through onto her legs. She almost wanted to be angry; but when she saw the way Catherine just scooted off of her and collapsed back into her pillows, she couldn't. This woman was very, very sick. And as disgusting as this was for poor George, she knew Catherine couldn't help it. And so she held her tongue and slowly peeled off her soiled clothes, trying not to make the mess worse. Once in nothing but her slip, she turned her gaze back to Catherine. Sighing deeply, she made her way back to the bed, and curled up to cuddle the sick empress. She might as well, at this point.

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So in the shower my conditioner came out of the dispenser so hard it shot through my closed fingers and I realized....I need someome to puke into my hands hard enough to do that.

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When no amount of "Shhhh" from Comforter calms Crying down (chef kiss)

Or a sickie that doesn't wanna puke so caretaker has to burp them like a baby

I adore any trope that involves caretaker babying sickie. Thank you for this!

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Please write a fic about Catherine getting really sick from both ends and Peter taking care of her. She deserves a gentle comfort

Yes she certainly does! Enjoy!

It was one of many freezing cold days in Russia. Every fireplace in the palace roared and most of the court huddled together in one room, drinking and gossiping...as they always did. But Catherine...she was quiet today. She sat next to Peter at the lavish table, not touching her plate. Peter, of course, was too busy stuffing his own face to notice at first. But when he did, his fork paused halfway to his mouth.

"Are you alright? You're not eating." He said. Catherine forced a tight smile. "I am fine, just not hungry." She replied. But even Peter could see through that. He'd become rather skilled at telling when his wife was lying.

"You can tell me the truth." He said immediately. "We have had few secrets between us so far. And the ones we have attempted have ended badly."

Catherine couldn't help but crack a smile at that, and she sighed. "Alright. If you must know, I feel rather unwell tonight." She admitted.

"Unwell? Unwell how?" Peter asked, taking a bite out of a chicken leg. Catherine shrugged. "I feel...unsettled. In my tummy. As if it's swirling...it sort of feels like being on a boat." She said, her belly releasing a loud gurgle as if to emphasize her point. "It is loud, too." She said.

Peter nodded. "Well then, we will retire early." Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but Peter had already stood up, bidding the court goodnight, before taking Catherine's arm and leading her away.

Upon arrival to their apartments, Catherine seemed sluggish. Marial quickly helped her out of her gown and into her sleepwear, and left with a concerned look on her face that she'd decided not to voice aloud.

Catherine laid down on the bed, curling up in a ball and hugging a pillow to her belly. Peter's expression softened, which was rare for him.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Catherine hesitated for a moment, before she shook her head. "I don't think so. My stomach really hurts." She admitted. Peter changed his own clothes as well, which, for him was just taking his shirt off. He sat down on the bed next to her, laying a hand on her belly.

"It is rolling..." he observed. "That cannot be good."

Just then, Catherine's stomach lurched. The empress leaned quickly over the side of the bed, cheeks puffed up as she barfed onto the floor.

"Oh sh*t!" Peter exclaimed, reaching over and gathering her hair back. Catherine burped as another thick stream of hot vomit poured from her mouth and splattered onto the floor and rug.

When she was finished, tears welled up in her big blue eyes. She sat up, catching her breath briefly before collapsing against Peter, clinging to him.

The emperor immediately returned the hug, pulling her in tight and rubbing her back.

"Hey, don't cry, it's alright." He said, but Catherine didn't respond. Instead..another sound came from her...

Her belly let out a loud, wet gurgling sound and she briefly tensed up, gripping her cramping stomach with both hands. She wanted to make a run for the chamber pot...she truly did. But she couldn't. There was simply no time. So, with soft grunt and strain...she messed herself. Right there on the bed, in her husband's arms. Explosive diarrhea poured out of her and into her nightgown and onto Peter's lap. He didn't flinch, however. Instead, he looked oddly calm. Happy, even.

"Aw, Catherine..." he said. "You really had a stomachache, hm? That's alright, I'll hold you. Let it rip."

Catherine was stunned by how calm he was. She was beyond embarrassed but...somehow...Peter's demeanor made her feel better. She leaned against him, resting her head on his broad chest, pooping herself but feeling oddly relaxed.

"I don't feel well at all..." she admitted, voice strained. Peter leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I know, that's alright...I've got you." He said. And have her he did. He sat there and held her until she was finished, and then, rather than bellowing for Marial like she expected, he cleaned up the mess, and Catherine, himself.

Maybe Peter really did have a soft side...