/vomit - Blog Posts
Inktober 1 poison + extra limbs
The Martyr
Chapter Five The Hand That Feeds
It was dark. Lance wasn’t sure how long he had been chained up, but judging by the painful pangs of hunger that contracted in his stomach every few minutes, it had to have at least been a couple of days. After his assault, Lotor had returned to his room only once, to dress Lance in a blue silk wrap that hung loosely around his waist. But since then, Lance had seen neither hide nor hair of him. It would have been a safe bet that he had been forgotten if not for the daily visits from Zethrid, who made sure he was at the very least cleaned and given water. He supposed he should at the very least be grateful for that. Yet, he just couldn’t relax. Lotor’s ominous words echoed in his mind, and he just couldn’t shake the feeling that Lotor’s cruelty was only just beginning.
‘Don’t fret young paladin, while it would be wonderful to see your belly huge and round with Galran brood, I have other plans for you.’ That’s what he’d said with that cruel and sickening smile on his face. And, it wasn’t just the words themselves, it was the way he said them - with such a sadistic inflection that it almost seemed like what he had planned was way beyond any cruel or inhuman thing that Lance could imagine. That being said, what could be worse than being experimented on so he could carry Galran children? He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on such thoughts any longer. It was bad enough that he had been fucked mercilessly without his consent, the idea that he as a man could carry children was just too much.
Instead Lance’s thoughts turned once again to escape and his team. Best case scenario he would manage to escape and somehow find his team in the deep recesses of space without his helmet or armor. That, or his team would bust in, kick Galran ass and rescue him. I could even deal with Keith teasing me for being caught, he thought with a small smile. An image of Keith’s scowling face came to his mind and a pang of longing gripped his chest. I miss him…I miss all of them.
After a few moments of silence, Lance shook that thought from his head as well. There was no use focusing on such thoughts. He experimentally tugged at the binds around his wrist and ankles. Damn, they were still incredibly sturdy; there was no way he was going to be able to break them. His eyes instead focused on the wooden post that the binds were attached to. Maybe, if he could just - the door suddenly hissed open, startling him out of his thoughts, and to his surprise Lotor walked into the room, wheeling in a covered silver cart.
Lance’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “what the hell is that?” he snapped, glaring up at the prince.
“Sharp tongued as ever I see,” Lotor replied dismissively, bringing the cart to a halt in front of Lance. “You would think after three days of solitary confinement with no food, we would have been able to scrape off that abrasive attitude of yours, but it appears you still have more of a lesson to learn. We’ll have to drill it into that head of yours before the end of the month or we may just have to postpone my plans,” he grinned, brushing Lance’s hair behind his ears.
Lance recoiled at the prince’s touch and fear prickled in his chest, but he tried not to let it show. “You never answered my question, and what the hell kind of sick plans do you have for me, anyway? I already told you that I won’t betray my friends, so I don’t know why you’re even bothering with all of this.”
Lotor chuckled in response to Lance’s bravado. “I will reveal my plans in due time, Blue. We have a few months before everything is prepared. In the meantime, let’s just enjoy the time we have together,” he purred, dragging a clawed hand underneath the silk wrap to caress Lance’s bare thigh. Lance flinched at the touch, acutely aware that his cock lay within reach, completely bare under the thin silk.
Before Lance could voice his discomfort, Lotor removed his hand and returned his attention to the silver cart. Lance’s eyes followed Lotor’s movements suspiciously, watching intently as Lotor stood up, wheeled the cart over to the side of the bed where Lance was bound, and carefully lifted off the lid of the tray, setting it down on the bedside table.
Craning his neck, Lance peered down at the tray. Inside a large, shallow, metallic plate was a yellowish brown substance, both grainy and soupy in texture. It smelled foul, and Lance only recognized it as food due to the spoon that was submerged into the disgusting slop. Lance wrinkled his nose in disgust. Lotor picked up the spoon and scooped up the thick mixture and brought it towards Lance’s mouth. “Eat, it wouldn’t do if you suddenly died before my plan was complete.”
Lance recoiled in disgust, tilting his neck away from the spoon, gagging at the smell, “How about I don’t and say that I did?” he grimaced as Lotor followed Lance’s mouth with the spoon. Lance turned his head away once more, refusing to open his mouth.
Lotor sighed and quickly untied Lance’s binds, ”I was hoping we could do this the easy way but it seems that I was wrong.” Relief flooded over Lance when Lotor placed the spoon back into the bowl, but it was short lived, as Lotor suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging him into a sitting position and smacked him hard across the face. Stunned, Lance turned his head to face Lotor only to be smacked again, this time a little harder. Without warning, Lotor gripped Lance’s jaw, prying his mouth painfully open before grabbing the spoon once more and shoving it deep into Lance’s mouth, clattering it noisily against his teeth.
The taste was revolting, almost like liquified medicine and he gagged as the bitter mixture hit his tongue, but before he had a chance to spit it up, Lotor slapped his hand hard against Lance’s throat, forcing him to swallow it down. Suddenly, he gripped his hair again slapping him hard across the face. “Are you going to behave Blue, or are all your meals going to be this difficult?” Lotor chuckled as Lance coughed and retched, trying to pull his hair out of the Galran’s iron grip.
“S-stop I -” Lance wheezed, gripping Lotor’s wrist’s weakly before Lotor gripped his jaw and pushed another spoonful into his mouth, this time nearly shoving it down his throat. With the spoon still clamped between Lance’s teeth, the prince forced his mouth closed and once again, made him swallow the revolting blend by smacking his hand hard against his throat before letting go.
That was it for Lance who retched and threw up all over his lap and chest, letting the spoon clatter to the floor. Lotor looking disgusted, gripped Lance’s jaw again, this time landing a curled first against his cheek causing flecks of vomit and saliva to spatter against the wall. Lance, still heaving, let out a choked sob, his face starting to swell where Lotor had punched him. With tears threatening to spill over, he looked back at Lotor who suddenly grabbed his face and forced his mouth open, but instead of scooping up more of the blend, lotor gathered a large spoonful of Lance’s own vomit and forced the spoon into his mouth. Lance gagged and fought against Lotor’s grip his eyes bulging and drool dripping out of the corners of his mouth.
“Disgusting,” Lotor sneered. “Absolutely disgusting. I go through the trouble of fixing you a nutritious meal and you not only refuse my hospitality but you vomit all over yourself like some sick animal.” He forced Lance to swallow and immediately scooped up some more, pushing it against Lance’s mouth who gagged and tried to shove the spoon away. “Please stop I’ll - mmf,” he pleaded, only to be cut off as Lotor suddenly pushed Lance’s face into his own lap, smearing vomit over his face and bangs. Lance panicked as vomit filled his nose and airwaves, cutting off his breath and as he began to thrash, Lotor finally let go, watching as Lance retched and sobbed, gasping for air. The prince’s eyes quirked up as an idea suddenly hit him, “Oh dear Blue,” he cooed, “you’ve made such an awful mess of yourself. Do you want to be rinsed off?”
Lance shook his head, hot angry tears pouring down his cheeks. He knew from the very beginning how evil the prince was, especially after their last meeting. But he had no idea how disgusting and sadistic the prince could be until that very moment and he was not eager to find out what, “rinsed off,” meant. “N-no,” he choked, his shoulders shaking.
“Oh come now, I insist,” Lotor pressed, untying Lance’s legs and yanking him off the bed by his hair. Lance yelped and tried to tug himself free, but Lotor pushed Lance down onto his knees, forcing him to kneel in front of him. To Lance’s horror, Lotor began to unbutton his pants, pulling his cock free and aiming it towards Lance’s ruined face.
“N-no, don’t -” Lance started, only to be cut off as Lotor began to urinate onto his face. Lance was humiliated and disgusted and his cheeks burned with shame as Lotor emptied himself onto Lance’s face, causing a mix of vomit, piss and drool to slide down his neck and chest. When he was finished, he threw Lance to the side, who landed against the wall in a crumpled heap and began to sob.
Grinning at the sight, Lotor turned, tucking himself back into his pants and began to head toward the exit. “I know that may have seemed harsh, Blue, but I assure it was a necessary learning opportunity. Maybe next time you’ll learn not to insult the hand that feeds.” And with that he left, leaving Lance to his own shame and despair. Previous Ao3 Link
Getting car sick as an adult without a license is so fucking humbling.
How am I deadass over here being like "I can work with most things, but my commute can't be more than 30 mins by bus or I'll vomit"
Heyyyy!!! I've got another Bad Things Happen for y'all. This one has a personal favorite ship of mine, Kidge (either platonic or romantic, depending on how you read it). There are warnings for blood, vomit, and implied character death.
Enjoy!
“Keith!”
His own name echoed in his head as he was brought out of his holding cell. For three days, he had had nothing but stale bread and coppery water given to him through a slot on the floor. Treated like an animal, this was the first time he had seen any sort of light since he had been captured.
They had been betrayed. Someone inside the Blades had sold them out; it was the only explanation. The base they had infiltrated was supposed to have been abandoned; no one should have been around for a hundred light years at least. Instead, on the other side of a sun undergoing massive solar flares, a Galra cruiser had been lying in wait.
Everyone else on his team had been killed in front of him. Their purple ichor splattered against his face and the floor, creating grisly designs. His head had been swung into the wall, causing his vision to spin and eyes to water.
Then he had been brought here as some kind of bargaining chip with the paladins of Voltron.
But that didn’t matter now.
What mattered was the petite figure hefting a glowing green bayard at the Galra soldier. Her unruly hair was mussed more than usual, the curls wrapping around the frames of her glasses. When he looked closer, her pupils were dilated to tiny pinpricks, and her teeth were bared. She looked downright feral, and Keith had never been so happy to see her.
“Get away from him!” She practically growled as her bayard was raised above her head in a challenge. Her feet were planted wide, and Keith had never seen her so angry in his life. Not even when he had accidentally tripped over the charger for her computer, unplugging it when she had been in the middle of a crucial download.
Then she had been angry.
Now… Now she was livid.
“Don’t.” He begged her. His throat was dry, and his lips were chapped, splitting and letting the blood run down down his chin. “Don’t make them angry.” He tried again, but his words trailed off into a barely audible whisper.
Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step forward. The green bayard was humming with energy. “How can you say that, Keith? Look at what they did to you!”
I can feel it. Keith thought. The ache in his head hadn’t disappeared since his beating three days ago, and some way or another, his ankle had been twisted. It was probably when he had been tossed in his cell, but there was no way for him to be sure.
“It’s what he deserves.” One of his captors sneered. “A half-blood like him? He’s less than Galra! He’s less-” He was suddenly cut off with a wet gurgle.
The front of Pidge’s weapon soared through the air and caught the man who had been speaking in the neck, the purple ichor spraying through the air. She yanked it back, and the ichor sizzled on the energy blade. The soldier lurched forward; his head tossed back so that the white of his spine was visible. More ichor sprayed from a severed artery, splashing Pidge in the purple substance.
She didn’t flinch.
No one else moved.
“I didn’t come here to negotiate.” She said, wiping the ichor from right above her eye, which only caused it to smear in a poor imitation of war paint. “You told me to come alone. I came alone. Now you’re going to release my friend and let us go on our way.”
“I don’t think I am.” The Galra who had pulled Keith from his cell said. He reached his hand down and gripped Keith by the jaw, pulling him to his feet. “It seems that I’m down a soldier, so maybe this half-breed should pay for the loss.” The soldier began to squeeze his fingers together, digging the dirty claws into his cheeks, and forcing Keith’s mouth open.
Keith’s eyes widened in considerably, his hands grappling with the Galra’s arm, trying to get the hand to release him. He ground his teeth together, feeling one in the back of his mouth crack, the white-hot pain shooting straight to the nerve, but he didn’t stop. Fresh blood was pouring from scratches in his cheeks where the soldier’s nails cut jagged lines in his skin. He pursed his lips shut so tightly that they split again.
Pidge was furious; she stepped forward, her bayard prepared to slice through this soldier’s neck as easily as it had done the last one.
“Careful.” He taunted. “If you kill me, my men will kill your friend and then you.” There was a slight strain in his voice from the effort he was putting into Keith’s jaw. “And if your friend,” he said, looking pointedly into Keith’s eyes, and squeezing his fingers together more tightly. “Doesn’t open his mouth, my men will kill you and then him.”
Violet eyes flitted to Pidge’s, just long enough to see her shake her head. There was real fear there. He glanced to the soldiers behind him who all held their weapons at the ready.
Keith reluctantly allowed his mouth to be forced the rest of the way open, knowing it was a mistake. Lightning fast, the Galra took a larger vial from his pocket, popped the lid, and poured a clear liquid into Keith’s mouth.
The first thought that popped into Keith’s head was relief that he was being given more water.
The second thought was that he had been very, very wrong.
The liquid was sour as it hit his tongue, so incredibly sour that he couldn’t help but try and spit it out. That was when a large, calloused hand was clapped over his mouth, forcing his lips shut.
Then it started to burn.
It started to burn its way through his tongue, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.
It was like his tongue was on fire. He could feel a cough forming itself in the back of his throat, causing his eyes to water as he just prayed that the hand would disappear, disappear and let him spit it out. Against his will, he felt some of it trickle its way down his throat, burning red hot all the way.
Then, the hand was gone, and he was being shoved to the ground, his knees buckling underneath him against his will. Instantly, the liquid was out of his mouth and on the ground, only now it was dark red against the floor. Desperately, he coughed, sending more droplets of red through the air.
Despite the fact that he was on the ground, his arm stretched out for balance; the room was spinning around him. Up was down, down was left, right was backward, and Pidge… Pidge was right in front of him.
Her bayard was right in front of his eyes, giving him something to focus on other than the burning hot in his mouth and his throat. That glowing green that blacked out the rest of his vision, but he knew that green. That green was safe.
Not for long though.
He felt his gut roil and desperately pushed her to the side to empty his stomach on the ground beside her.
It was tinged with blood.
Distantly, he felt her small familiar hands on his shoulders, and he heard her voice saying… something. He thought he heard his name in all the sounds, but he couldn’t be sure.
Not when he was shaking from just the effort of keeping himself up.
Not when he tried to breathe and almost couldn’t.
Not when the room was still spinning out of control, and he was there to watch it.
His stomach lurched again, clenching uncomfortably as he heaved and nothing but red spittle came out. Small hands gripped his shoulders, trying to keep him upright, but he couldn’t… couldn’t…
The world was going dark at the edges of his vision, but he was trying to keep his eyes on the green, that glowing green.
It was the last thing he saw.