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saintsylestine · 13 days ago

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Abaddon's [Favorite?] Inquisitor

afab!reader x Abaddon the Despoiler

A/n: I came up with so many scenes to get to this one...safe to say, more to come (///ω///)♪ I wanna ruin this man. But warning - I'm a tease for posting this.

Cw: NSFW, dubcon, free use, bondage/restraints, whipping (not crazily but yeah) powerplay, humiliation, throat fucked with fingers (is there a nicer way to say that lol)

Inspiration by art from the great @magicalduck21

(´－ω－)人

Ok disclaimer I wrote him with his helm on but you can imagine this guy's face as you get on his nerves *blush*

---

You’re drooling again.

It slides down your chin in threads, pooling in the hollow of your throat before spilling across the upper swell of your chest. One strand has glued itself to your breast, now tugging painfully with every sway of the rig. It itches. Everything itches. The barbed binding cinched under your arms, the rope bite of daemonflesh cords crossing your ribs, the harsh seam of your cunt forced open by that infernal split-legged yoke. Sweat stings old lash marks. You can’t twitch without the chains creaking and reminding him you’re alive.

But it’s not the pain that gets you. It’s the waiting.

Your jaw aches from the gag. Big, brutal thing. Not ball-shaped—too simple. This is a bite bar, thick and metallic, hinged to keep your mouth pried wide like a beast’s muzzle. You can just barely move your tongue. Just enough to speak if you don’t mind sounding like you’ve had your jaw broken and sewn back together by a drunk servitor.

“Uhh... uhh wuhh... ‘bout oo fall uh-leep,” you slur, glaring around the room like he’s listening. He always is. That or the walls do it for him.

Nothing. No footfall. No hiss of doors. The silence makes your blood run hotter.

You snort and roll your eyes as best you can. “Ughhh... uff’s sake...”

Your leg’s gone numb again. The high one, raised and bent at the knee, ankle chained upward toward a ceiling hook. The opposite leg is stretched straight and low, foot hovering just off the ground. The asymmetry's surgical—crafted to wreck your hips slowly, to force your cunt open with no dignity or balance. You’re tilted, twisted, hanging like a dissected animal with tits thrust forward and your spine bowed. The only thing holding your posture is suffering.

And of course, your cunt is dripping.

Because that’s the joke.

That’s the game.

You’ve hung like this before. You remember the aches. The first time it was humiliation. The second was anger.

Now it’s a routine.

A sick little habit.

You're about to scream something through the gag—something deeply unwise but satisfyingly profane—when the air changes.

No sound.

Just pressure. That shift. Like an entire cathedral exhaling behind your skull.

He’s here.

You roll your head slowly, spit swinging from your chin like a pendulum, and you see the shape you know too well—black warplate, burning eyes, ruin-wrapped shoulders. He’s already watching.

Of course he is.

You inhale sharply through your nose and let out a long, muffled sound that’s just close enough to a sigh to qualify as mockery.

“Fihh-nuh-wee,” you groan around the gag. “Took oo long uh-fur... fuhhck.”

He steps forward. One step. Solid. Measured.

That’s all.

He always lets the weight of him speak first.

You laugh, though it scrapes your throat. “Whuh... whuh’suh matta?” you coo, words mangled but intent sharp. “Guhh nuhh... nuhh new toy-s, huh?” you slur, thick around the bar. “Oooh ‘fraid I’ll... ou’lass ‘em again?”

He halts.

You grin, or something like it—lips stretched obscenely wide, teeth slick with drool.

“Issh tha’ why oo... keep comin’ back?” you lilt, breath hitching with the ache in your ribs. “Cuhh... can’ break me... sho’ oo jushh... watch.”

That hits. Just slightly. You know his silences by now, and this one shifts—grows heavier. The air tightens. His helm turns. Not enough to admit you’ve scored a hit—but enough to make your gut flip.

You lean into it.

“Uhh ‘member lasss time,” you murmur, rasping through spit. “Uhh ‘member... when oo shuv’d me on tha’ shpine hook... riigh’ when I wuzz ‘bout tuh cuum.”

Your thighs twitch involuntarily. The bindings flex. Tighten.

Pain flares along your hip and shoulder. Your teeth scrape against the bar.

You moan—low, filthy, intentional.

Not submission. Not surrender.

Invitation.

He says nothing.

But he’s listening.

Still looming.

Still deciding.

Good.

Let the Despoiler think it’s his move.

You’ll make him earn it.

...

He moves.

One step.

Two.

The sound is obscene—metal plates grinding, floor trembling under the ruin-weight of him. You can feel your own body brace, just from proximity. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t need to. Warlords don’t hurry for entertainment.

You lift your head slightly, just enough to spit another drool-slick smile around the gag.

“Wuhh... ‘bout time, big boy.”

He doesn’t answer. You didn’t expect him to.

You track him with your eyes as he circles, inspecting you like something inert. Meat. Structure. Not a lover, not even a prisoner—just a thing. A device with too much voice. His fingers twitch, gauntleted and massive, dragging idly across the lowest hanging chain—the one between your thighs.

Your cunt clenches the moment he touches it.

Fuck.

The chain’s connected to the yoke forcing your legs apart—anchored to your hips and fed through a wicked little pulley up above. One tug shifts your entire weight downward and outward, dragging your pelvis deeper into exposure. You barely get a gasp out before he does exactly that.

—clink—

Your leg lifts another few degrees. The yoke bites into the crease of your thighs, the metal unforgiving. Your whole body shifts in the rig—your back arches further, your cunt gapes, and your clit brushes cold air, hypersensitive and angry.

“Nnghh—fuhhhckk,” you groan, helpless and furious.

Your nerves light up. It’s not even direct stimulation—it’s geometry. Your posture’s now one breath away from cramp, your spine so bowed your ribs scream. Every twitch pulls your own cunt taut like a wound.

You try to laugh again. Try.

Comes out more like a whimper.

And he hears that.

His hand lifts.

You feel the shadow first—then the weight of it, right between your legs. One thick, gloved finger presses flat against your slit. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just... flat. Steady. As if he’s bracing himself on a bulkhead.

You moan through your nose.

He moves the finger. Up. Down. Slowly. Just enough to coat the metal in your slick. He doesn't probe. Doesn’t circle your clit. Just gathers evidence.

You jerk your hips in protest—or try. The restraints punish the attempt instantly. The yoke pulls tighter. One of the ropes bites your sternum so hard you gasp.

He knows what he’s doing.

He brings the finger up to eye level.

Examines it.

You choke out a snort. “Wuzz zat for?” you slur, straining to twist your head and look at him. “Geddin’ yer fuckin’ sammple?”

And then he does something that makes your mouth go silent.

He turns his hand over.

And lets your slick drip off his gauntlet.

Onto the floor.

You watch it fall.

Wasted.

A beat.

“Fuhhhck... you,” you hiss, gag mangling it to something desperate and ugly.

He doesn’t respond.

But he steps behind you.

And that’s when your stomach flips.

Because there’s a long, vertical panel of your body he hasn’t touched yet—spine, ass, back of thighs. All raw and twitching from being exposed so long.

You hear a sound.

—kssshht—

A retractable blade? No. Something worse.

Straps.

You twist your neck and barely glimpse it: a thin, whip-like implement, barbed at intervals. Painfully intimate. Not meant to cut.

Meant to sting.

He presses the tip of it to your tailbone.

And waits.

You freeze.

You don’t beg.

But your breath starts to shake.

And you know he’s smiling under that fucking helm.

...

You hold your breath without meaning to.

The whip—if it even deserves that name—is light. Flexible. Too thin to do real damage. That’s what makes it cruel. You know this one. You remember it. It doesn’t open the skin. It makes the nerves feel peeled. The barbs on the cord are dull. Just enough to raise welts. Just enough to force your body into a language of twitching.

He lifts it.

You brace.

The first strike lands low, across the back of your lower thigh.

CRACK.

You scream.

It’s not a choice. It tears through your throat like lightning. Your whole body jolts—your toes curl, your shoulders seize against their bindings, your cunt clenches around nothing. You can’t even process the pain fully before the second one follows.

CRACK.

This one higher—just below your ass. Direct. Cruel. Perfectly placed.

The sound you make is a gurgle, a sob mashed through the bite-bar and soaked in spit. You shake your head. Drool splashes the floor.

He waits.

You feel the stillness again. That calculated pause. He’s watching your breath now. Measuring your ragged little gasps. The rise and fall of your chest, taut and gleaming with sweat, nipples hard from shock and exposure.

You try to say something.

“Fffuhhhk... ooouh—”

But it’s mangled, half-spit, half-sob.

Good.

Let him hear it.

The third strike doesn’t come right away. You feel the whip brush up your spine—mocking. A phantom whisper against the bruises already forming. You know what he’s doing. You just don’t know where the next one will fall.

So you speak.

Because silence would mean he’s winning.

“Guhhh... guh’ a lil ten-shun tuhday, don’choo?” you growl through clenched teeth and leaking drool. “C’mere tuh... tuh beat yer meat on mine?”

You regret it before it finishes leaving your mouth.

CRACK.

Across your ribs. Side-on. The angle hits wrong—intentionally—snapping across bruised muscle and burned skin. It hurts in a way that makes your lungs seize. The sound that comes out of you is wet.

“Ghhha—fuckhh—!”

And still he’s not panting. Not vocal. Not even moving fast.

He lands five more.

Each one paced. Measured. Cruel.

One across your right shoulder blade.

One across your lower back—perfectly parallel to your spine.

Two across the meat of your ass, left and right.

And the final one...

...across your cunt.

It doesn’t slice. It buzzes. The barbs drag through the slickness there like someone dragging teeth through open nerve. Your thighs slam together on reflex—but the yoke holds them apart. You feel yourself spasm.

And then—

then—you moan.

Loud.

Long.

You hate yourself for it.

He steps away.

You hang there, trembling, ribs strobing with pain, slick running down your thighs, drool smearing your chest, your voice a shredded thing you no longer own.

He leaves you in silence again.

To feel it.

...

You’re hanging.

Breathing hard.

Wet.

Marked.

The rig creaks with each tremor of your thighs. The whip’s last kiss still sings through your cunt and ribs. You can taste blood now—somewhere deep in your mouth from biting the gag too hard. Or maybe that’s from trying to speak through it. You don’t know.

You only know he hasn’t left.

He’s watching.

You feel it—his weight in the air behind you. Still. Waiting. Deciding whether you’re worth more or less now.

Then—

He steps forward.

Boots slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

You try to lift your head, but the posture won’t let you. All you can see is his chestplate now—dark, massive, gleaming with tiny smears of you. You’re strung up like an offering. And he stands like a god who never needed prayer.

He doesn’t touch you.

Not yet.

He just speaks.

Low. Brutal.

“Louder than you’re worth.”

You flinch. Not from fear. From heat.

He circles to the side. Another pause. You hear the wet tap of his gauntlet against the chain stretched between your thighs. The rig tightens just slightly.

You groan. Legs spasm. More slick drips to the floor.

He leans in, helm level with your ear.

“Still leaking.”

A pause.

Then one gauntlet against your cheek—slick with your own arousal, dried and flaking.

He smears it there. Slow. Deliberate.

“Pathetic.”

Then nothing.

He steps back again, arms still at his sides, gaze crawling over you like a lash.

“You’re not finished.”

The silence after that is worse than any strike.

Because it means he’s thinking.

Planning.

And you're still open. Still dripping.

Still waiting.

You feel him move before you hear him.

That slow, towering shift of shadow in your peripheral vision. One gauntlet lifts. Big. Heavy. You brace for another strike—something to set your ribs screaming again.

Instead, you feel cold metal pinch at the corners of your mouth.

The gag.

The release is mechanical—hinged buckles, unfastened with a slow, surgical detachment. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t speak. Just unlocks you.

The bar slips from your teeth, thick with spit. Your jaw screams the moment it relaxes. Muscles twitch. Your tongue feels swollen, stupid. You barely register the drool pouring freely from your mouth now, sliding down your chin and between your breasts.

He doesn’t wipe it away.

Of course not.

He lets you hang there—open-mouthed, gasping, humiliated.

“Thhh—fuck...,” you rasp. Your voice is shredded, barely a thread of breath.

But you speak anyway.

You have to.

“Th-that’s it?” you spit, voice cracking as it crawls up your throat. “Needed to shut me up just long enough to—nghh—edge your ego, and now you wanna listen?”

Your throat seizes halfway through the insult. But you don’t stop.

“You done staring, or do I need to drip a little louder for you to get the hint?”

A beat.

Silence.

Then—

“Speak clearly.”

His voice.

Short. Low.

So quiet it hurts.

He steps closer. You feel the heat of him again. You don’t dare close your mouth now. Not after that command.

He tilts your head back with two gloved fingers under your jaw—forcing you to look up. Your neck aches. Your whole body shudders from the strain of that angle.

“Last chance.”

You swallow hard. Try not to. Try not to show the fear prickling behind your tongue. But it’s there.

And still, you smile.

Blood and spit painting your teeth.

“Bite me.”

A pause.

Then—so soft you almost miss it:

“I will.”

...

Your jaw aches from the gag’s absence—nerves flaring back to life as your muscles twitch, slack and wet and sore. You can’t fully close your mouth yet. Not that it matters.

He’s in front of you again. Close.

Too close.

Your breath catches when you realize how tall he feels this near. How much bigger he becomes when you're suspended and ruined. You’ve faced warlords across interrogation chambers before. Faced daemons in sanctified blacksteel cages. But you’ve never felt small like this.

Not until now.

His gauntlet comes up again—no flourish, no threat. Just inevitability. He drags two fingers down the line of your jaw. Spit clings to them. He doesn’t care.

“You wanted to be heard.”

He presses those same fingers—thick, metal, wet—against your lips.

“Then speak with this.”

And he pushes them into your mouth.

Not gently.

Not like a lover.

Like a tool checking a gear for fit.

The taste hits first.

Iron. Gunmetal. Skin-temperature steel.

Warp-stained machine oil.

And something fainter beneath it all: your own slick. Dried into the creases of his gauntlet.

He presses two fingers past your lips like he owns them. Like your mouth is waiting. Like this isn’t a punishment, but a test to see if you’re still useful. The gag’s gone—but you’re still not free.

Your lips part with no resistance. He doesn’t ask permission. He fills your mouth, thick-knuckled gauntlet scraping your molars, the cold ridge of each joint dragging across your tongue like you’re being filed down from the inside out.

You groan.

Not because you mean to. Because your tongue panics, trying to move—trying to escape. There’s no space. No room to reposition. His fingers are too big, too deliberate.

And then they deepen.

Not a thrust. Not yet.

Just pressure.

Down.

His middle finger presses hard on your tongue, flattening it toward your jaw. Your throat starts to tickle—a tight itch right where your body knows something’s wrong, where breath shouldn’t be interrupted. You try to suppress the reflex, but he feels it—he wants it.

He shifts again. The ring finger joins.

Three now.

You moan, loud and sharp. Your jaw pops. Your neck strains. Your lips tear at the corners as your teeth scrape across the metal’s seams.

He curls them slightly.

Just the smallest flex.

And your tongue is pinned—helpless beneath him.

“Better than your voice.”

You barely hear it through the haze. But your cunt clenches like it does.

The fingers rock forward. Gently.

Then harder.

Not fast. Not cruel. Insistent.

Your body jerks in the rig as he begins to fuck your mouth with his hand—short, precise strokes. He lets you feel everything. The ridged knuckles scraping your palate. The cold press behind your uvula. The saliva bubbling past your lips and down your chin as your gag reflex fires, again and again.

You choke.

You gag.

You don’t look away.

His helm tilts slightly—watching your throat bulge around the intrusion. Watching you lose shape. Watching you become a vessel.

Your nose runs. Drool pours freely. You sob around the seal of his gauntlet and the thick scrape of his knuckles sawing in and out of your mouth.

He goes deeper.

Your shoulders seize. Your eyes blur.

The sound is obscene—wet, raw, gulping, muffled.

He pulls back just slightly—enough for you to gasp in a rush of breath, your tongue clinging to his fingers like a drowning thing.

But he doesn’t leave.

His hand stays.

His fingers rest on your tongue now—heavy, unmoving. Just resting, like a reminder of your failure to shut up when you had the chance.

“Keep them there,” he says.

And steps back.

His fingers still in your mouth.

His gaze raking you.

Daring you to flinch.

You moan low in your throat, trembling from head to toe, and obey.

Because you don’t want him to stop.

Not yet.

...

You can’t swallow.

Not properly. Not with his fingers on your tongue like a commandment carved in metal. You keep twitching—your throat spasming, your mouth filling again and again with warm spit that you can’t do anything with. It slides past your lips. Down your chin. Along your breasts.

You’re soaked in it.

And still he hasn’t moved.

He’s standing in front of you, gauntlet still lodged in your mouth, watching—measuring. Every flick of your tongue against his knuckles. Every time your lips try to seal tighter, then fail from exhaustion.

You try not to groan.

It leaks out anyway.

He hears it.

And now he moves.

Not with the fingers in your mouth—no. He lifts his other hand, thick and gloved, and presses it between your thighs. Flat palm. Full contact. No penetration. Just weight and heat and the power of attention.

You jerk in the rig, reflexive and raw, legs straining against the yoke that holds them spread. Your cunt’s been wet for so long it’s a shameful flood. His palm glides through it effortlessly. And he doesn’t even seem interested. Just... confirming.

“Still soft,” he mutters.

Then, without warning, his fingers in your mouth thrust forward again.

No buildup.

Just deep.

You gag instantly. A wet, humiliating choke that makes your whole body jolt. Your thighs clench. Your eyes snap open, watering. It hurts.

He holds you there.

Not long.

Just enough.

Just long enough for the fear to rise in your chest.

Just long enough for your spit to start pouring faster, your lungs to beg.

Then he pulls back—slowly.

Lets you breathe.

And you do—gasps sharp and hoarse, his fingers still there, stretching your lips open.

“I said hold.”

And you do. Even as your throat trembles. Even as more saliva spills out past your teeth and runs down your breastbone.

Then he speaks again.

“Good.”

You want to feel victorious. You don’t.

Because he follows it with—

“Now take more.”

And this time, he pushes in a fourth finger.

Your mouth flares in protest. Your jaw splits wider than it ever has—too wide. Your lips tear. Your teeth scrape metal. You scream around it—guttural, ugly, a noise from the back of your throat that barely qualifies as human. It’s too much.

Your gag reflex explodes.

You twitch violently in the rig. Spit floods out in torrents. Your nose runs. Your eyes stream. Your neck burns from the angle, from the intrusion. Every nerve in your face howls.

He thrusts.

Not fast.

But with weight.

Four thick, armored fingers working in and out of your mouth in shallow, deliberate strokes. He doesn’t need to bury them. He’s not looking for depth. Just control. Just the sound of your suffering. Just the proof that your mouth isn’t a weapon—it’s a hole.

He watches every twitch of your tongue trying—and failing—to move. Every spasm of your throat as it tries to clench. Every wet gag as your body tries to reject him.

But your mind doesn’t.

Your mind is on fire.

And your cunt is still dripping.

He holds you there again—gagging, sputtering, wide open—and finally pulls back.

This time, when the fingers leave your mouth, your lips stay parted.

You gasp.

A broken, ragged gasp.

No pride left.

Just need.

Just pain.

And then—

It slips out.

Barely audible.

But real.

"...thank you."

You didn’t plan it.

But you meant it.

And he knows it.

He stands over you in silence.

And says nothing.

Because he doesn’t need to.

You’ve already answered the question he never asked.

---------to be continued... or prefaced...-----------

Hehe. Thank you for reading. I could write foreplay forever.

Tagged: @incrediblethirst @druidwolf21 @kit-williams (maybeee you'll like?)

(*ノ▽ノ)

#warhammer 40k #warhammer fanfic #warhammer fantasy #abaddon the despoiler #ezekyle abaddon #abaddon x reader #warhammer x reader #tw free use #tw he barely even touches you #cnc degradation #smut #primarch x reader #kinda

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dr-ground-zero · 1 month ago

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Creepily Cute

((so this is a snzfic for a set of @goodlucksnez and I's OCs. CW there will be light mess, this is very gay))

It was a chilly fall afternoon, mother nature had declared today and night that everyone would get the day off and it was recommended they all stay inside. Although the day off was appreciated, the staying inside portion did warrant concern from Itri and Cassanova. The day before when Cassanova asked Spirit about it, Spirit was sniffling through his words but Cass didn’t think too much of it, until now.

WHAM! The sound of a door slamming shut and shaking the room woke the pink-haired man with a gasp. He looked around while his brain was trying to wake up only to hear a sharp gasp and a-

“hHEH-ESSCHHheuhww!” The lights in the room flickered and an eerie howling wailed from outside. He looked to his left where the sneeze came from and saw Spirit. He was hunched over a tissue box with a few crumpled tissues pressed over his nose and mouth.

“Bless you!” Cass said in surprise, Spirit sniffled wetly as he apologized.

“Sorry didn’t bmead to wake you up’b” His voice was thickly muddled with congestion and voice strained by a seemingly sore throat. Cass’s brain started waking up more meaning he was starting to feel what Spirit was feeling. The stuffiness starting to make his own nose buzz and sniffle, the deep aching in his bones and muscles. His rose gold eyes softened at his boyfriend as he reached out a hand pressing it to Spirit’s forehead.

“Oh baby you don’t feel good” Spirit’s skin was pushing on warm to the touch but the poor guy was shivering. The thing was Spirit never got sick during this time of year that he knew of, and usually his abilities never got set off when he sneezed and Spirit’s never been able to slam doors. Suddenly Cassanova’s phone vibrated and he saw a text from Itri saying Haulyx was sick. Casanova picked up his phone and texted him back ‘Yeah, Spirit is too, was that Haulyx who slammed our door?’ It was a few seconds before he saw the little ‘Itri is typing’ and then ‘yeah probably’

Cass sighed and jolted when another sneeze forced its way out of Spirit causing a shriek-like noise to echo through the halls.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” Cass exclaimed, Spirit nodded from behind his cluster of tissues before replying.

“It doesn’t usually happed whed I’mb sigk but today’s a…special occasiod” Cass furrowed his brows a little and asked.

“What does the blood moon have to do with you and Haulyx getting a cold?” Spirit sighed and leaned into the headboard of the bed.

“Different lunar cycles are associated with different things bmythologically remembered. Add well Haulyx add I dod’t exactly handle this ode well.” His breath started to falter as he continued

“Id sobe cuhh cultures its a side of good luck, iih hiiih hold od-” Spirit fanned lightly as his face as his lips parted through his breaths, his chest heaved a bit as his eyes became half-lidded. Each breath sounded more tickly and needy than the last as his nose twitched and crinkled yet- He let out a disappointed sigh as the sneeze evaded him. Lowering the tissues in his hand revealing the rest of his face something only Cass had seen due to Spirit usually wearing a mask covering the upper half of his face. “Id others its a bad obmed” He finished

His face flushed and pale, nose tinged pink around the nostrils. Dark circles under his eyes that seemed all the heavier than usual and his black eyes much duller. Cass could feel this was no ‘little’ cold the embodiment of folklore had caught and had a feeling this was just the tip of the iceberg.

“You should go to your owd roob, i dod’t wadt you to have to suffer with bme or get you sigk.” Spirit suggested Cass shook his head, and he pushed back Spirit’s brown and black bangs to press a loving kiss on his forehead.

“No way am I leaving you alone to deal with this, I can handle this. It's just a little scary magic, it-it’ll be fine” Cass chuckled nervously, to be fair Cass did not know what he was getting into but it couldn’t be too bad right? He could deal with some spooky noises and doors opening and shutting, maybe some floorboard creaking!

“Dod’t say I didn’t ward you,” Spirit said as he leaned into him. Cass giggled and snuggled him for a bit before offering to go and make tea. Spirit was not going to turn down that offer and Cass slid out of bed to head down the hall. At the corridor of the upper level a sharp “psssst hey!” alerted Cass to turn around. There Itri was hiding behind the threshold of the corridor.

“What is it?” Cass asked “Is it safe to come down here?” Cass furrowed his brows but nodded and Itri quickly dashed across the floor to meet up with him.

“Why’d you ask that?” “Because earlier I tried walking around and shadow hand tried to grab my through the floor!” Itri explained Cass’s eyes widened as he now cautiously looked around while they walked.

“They’re stuff is really going haywire from a blood moon?” Cass asked, Itri nodded but then smiled.

“Hey I have an idea if they’re both sick why don’t we just set up a room for the 4 of us to share so we don’t have to go back and forth?” Itri offered, Cass smiled applauding the idea.

“Oooh yes, I can get some spare blankets and I’ll set them up in the guest bedroom.”He said, Itri agreed and they went on to find their things. On the way Itri found Haulyx’s spell book lying on the kitchen counter, curiosity had him thinking ‘There has to be something in here to help’ so he started flipping through the pages. His eyes scanned through the different cryptic letters and pictures until he found what he was looking for! He read through it until Cass had come back towards the room they were setting up. Itri grabbed the book and waved him over.

“Hey! I think I found something in Haulyx’s spell book that would help.” He announced with a proud smile. Cass looked over at the page Itri was pointing at. The golden-haired spirit then explained his findings.

“Its a magic circle, from what Haulyx has told me those are meant to keep certain things in or keep it from affecting anything outside of it. I think I could link the magic circle to our boys so when they’re in here, their magical mishaps only affect the room and not the entire house.” Cass’s eyes lit up with hope as he teetered on his tiptoes.

“Oh, that sounds like that’ll work, try it, no harm right?” Itri nodded and had Cass stand behind him before he cast the spell. Pressing his hand to the threshold of the bedroom door they would be staying in Itri began the spell. His blue starry eyes lit up as cracks of golden light illuminated his palms and transferred onto the bedroom door and through the floorboards. The light slowly began to trace the room’s perimeters only to meet back where Itri had been standing. The glow began to fade and the magic slowly stopped coursing through Itri’s body. Then a tired gravely voice spoke up behind them.

“What are you doig with bmy book, Itri.” Itri and Cassanova almost jumped out of their skins with a scream! Turning around they were greeted by the sights of both their ill boyfriends. Spirit stood with a confused look on his face and a tissue box tucked under his arm. Haulyx stood with his arms folded over his chest and his long arrow-tipped tail whipping slowly with his now deep orange eyes staring narrowly at Itri in irritation.

“Itri, why do you have bmy spell book and why did you subbond bme and Spirit?” Itri let out a nervous chuckle as he answered.

“I-I wanted to help and I found this summoning circle, I remembered what you told me about them and figured it would help keep all…that contained to one room instead of the entire house” When he said ‘that’ he did a circular hand motion at Haulyx and spirit. Haulyx seemed to understand where Itri was coming from. His demeanor shifted with a sigh, his shoulders slumped as his arms loosened his tail stopped moving and his eyes softened. Cass interjected with his mention of bringing supplies.

“I’ve got plenty of blankets, pillows, and tissues for the both of you!” Spirit grinned a little, well they couldn’t turn either of their precious lovers down now, could they? So they went inside the room and got situated. Cass spread out a large pink fluffy blanket at the base before piling more around for the two to choose with they wanted for themselves. Of course all various shades of bright colors. When Haulyx grabbed one it changed to a dark purple as he pulled it around himself

Cass frowned at the color change and crossed his arms. “Hey no fair it was prettier if it was pink Mr. monochromatic and allergic to color.”

“I am not allergic to color, this is dark purple.” He says wrapped in the blanket. Itri lt out a laugh at their antics.

“Yeah, surprisingly it’s his favorite color actually.” Itri said while ruffling the demon’s hair that matched the blanket, black hair with a dark purple shine to it. When he ruffled it around a two sets of horns could be seen. Two pushing from Haulyx’s forehead and another just a few inches back onto the crown of his head.

“Your horns are growing in more, baby.” Itri pointed out, Haulyx groaned as he rubbed at his nose.

“Yeah they’re bmakig bmy head hurt” Itri cooed softly at him before getting the idea to go and make the boys soup, Cass agreed this would be good since they needed to eat something to get themselves over this cold.

“Alright you’re coming with me, lover boy,” Itri said while grabbing Cass’s arm and tugging him along. Cass whined and tried to stay in the room.

“But we can’t leave them by themselves.” “You and I both know they’ll be alright on their own, and I know how you get, now come on.” Cass huffed and promised the boys they would be back soon as he was tugged out of the room. Now leaving the two spooky entities to their own device, there was a moment of silence before Haulyx let out a sigh. He rubbed at his sinuses with thick sniffles trying to break through the congestion in hopes of getting some air through his stuffy nose when Spirit spoke up.

“I feel awful” Haulyx nodded along in agreement.

“Bme too, feels like bmy dnose is full” Haulyx groaned while Spirit rubbed at his own nose before he started hitching. They were rather soft at first, quiet not too easy to hear but you could quickly feel an impending sense of dread fill the room as he geared up. His nose twitched and his nostrils flared as the tickle got worse, starting from the back and creeping its way forward. He blindly rummaged around for a tissue, and right as he snatched one up, the tickle backed off ever so slightly. He sighed in annoyance and sniffled wetly, still keeping the tissue in hand as he sat himself up. His nose scrunched up as he rubbed the back of his fist against it.

“Cobe od, lehh let-let bme sdeeze alreeehhh hehh already.” Haulyx started to take notice and watched as another sneeze taunted the other’s nose.

“You want sobe help there?” He asked, Spirit let out a bitter laugh.

“You got a spell id that book of yours to get rid of this cold?” “If I did I would have used it already, dumbass” Haulyx hissed, Spirit rolled his eyes with a shrug. Once again Spirit started hitching again, this time a lot more obvious. His eyes became half-lidded, his shoulders tensed and a hand came up and fanned at his face as he internally begged for his body to just let him sneeze. Much to his dismay, the sneeze backed off again, only to leave his nose dripping and feeling tingly.

“Damn you really are helpless” Haulyx teased, Spirit flipped him off and rubbed at his nose roughly.

“I cad’t help it, this just happeds” Haulyx huffed and grabbed Spirit gently and pulled him towards him.

“Well then lets get this over with. Cause watchig you is making bmy dnose itch.” Spirit tilted his head in confusion before Haulyx’s tail came around to the front. The arrow tip pressed gently against his septum and started to circle the edges of his nostrils in slow succession. Before Spirit could protest he started hitching again, his nostrils flaring to life again against the tail tracing it.

“Hehh hey ceeehh careful” He warned, all Haulyx muttered was a ‘don’t sneeze in my face’ then flicked his tail slightly further inside one of Spirit’s nostrils. The tickle then came back with force, he hitched desperately and urgently, his eyes tearing up and squinted. He barely had time to bring up a hand to push the demon type away before sneezing wetly into the tissue he had been holding onto.

“ESschhEUhhww! ESschhEUhhww! ESschhEUhhww! Hehh heeeh! ESschhEUhhww!” Each sneeze rocks his body into a hunched-over position Haulyx was quick to grab the other’s shoulders so he wouldn’t hurt himself sneezing too hard or make himself dizzy. When he finally recovered with a congested huff, Spirit let out an out-of-breath ‘thagk you’. Due to both Spirit and Haulyx being spirit embodiments of things most people found terrifying the effects of their power going haywire never affected them personally. They could ignore the creaking floorboards the hands that reach the floor or the eyes in the walls. It did seem like the magic circle was keeping things mostly contained to their room too so that was good.

Spirit shimmied himself up to Haulyx laying his head against his shoulder and curling up a little.

“Fuck it you’re bmy replacebmet cuddle buddy dnow” Haulyx rolled his eyes and let his tail wrap around Spirit turning over to face him.

“Fide fide, at least you dod’t bmake stardust” He joked loosely, Spirit laughed a little and nodded.

“Oh don’t worry I wont blast you with pixie dust if I sdeeze” Spirit rubbed at his nose and positioned himself so his tail was wrapped around Haulyx and his horns where not poking him. If it wasn't for the horrors in the room the scene might have been adorable to anyone who might have passed it. Haulyx furrowed his brows when he felt something wrap around him, looking under the blanket he noticed the tail and horns.

“Did you just grow all that?” Spirit returned the confusion until Haulyx pointed out the tail and horns.

“Well I do have the ability to shape shift to the creatures around bme” Ah that explained it and Haulyx was a demon so it made sense.

“Interesting, be careful with it, it can cause all sort of issues..hmm I wonder.” Haulyx traced around the horn spirit had grown and immediately the other shuddered and shifted in place.

“Hey, that is attached, stop it.” Spirit felt an all too familiar itch settle in the back of his nose and narrowed his eyes at the offender. “Oh,Huh–Ehh…..Fu-Uhhhck, not again.”

“Ooh wow you really are sedsitive!” Haulyx blinked in surprise, now the poor thing was back to his itchy limbo. His pointy ears drooped a bit as his breath caught and he whined.

“Oh cobe uhhh od, ugh dabm it!” He growled, Haulyx then reached up at his nose and traced his fingers against the other’s septum with a feather-like touch.

“Alright alright, relax I’ve got it, just keep that tissue with ya” Just the little touch had Spirit’s nose turning red and squirming. His nose ran as he built up and no amount of sniffling could keep it back finally he gasped and ducked down again into another tissue. “ESschhEUhhww! ESschhEUhhww! Heeeehgh ESschhEUhhww! ESschhEUhhww!” You’d think four sneezes would have been in, however, that was not the case but it did overshadow the banshee scream rattling the window. His mouth dropped, and his eyes squinted with tears as his head lifted just enough to reveal his trembling red runny nose.

“I-i’mb guhh huh godda heh ESschhEUhhww ESschhEUhhww! ESschhEUhhww!” Haulyx jumped a little but stayed close, soothingly rubbing Spirit’s shoulder and using his tail to put the tissue box between them.

“There you go, is that better?” He asked softly, Spirit nodded before blowing his nose heavily.

“At least i cad say I really dod’t feel well without worrying you’ll sdeeze your head off” He jested Haulyx furrowed his brows a little and Spirit explained.

“Cass is quite literally allergic to negativity, even the phrase ‘bad news’ will get him sneezing. He cad feel what others are feeling which makes it worse” Haulyx nodded as his lips made an ‘O’ in understanding.

“Well you cad complaid as bmuch as you wadt, i’mb not godda stop you” “How are you feeling, i haven’t heard you sdeeze bmuch at all?” Spirit asked, Haulyx brushed back his hair as they both settled back down into their cuddle position.

“Dod’t get bme started, bmy dnose is just buzzing and keeps ruddig” Spirit chuckled softly and smirked “Do you dneed help dnow?” Haulyx rolled his eyes and rubbed a finger roughly against his nose.

“Dno, I’ll be fide.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his wrist and cleared his throat. “Colds don’t affect me as badly as some.” Spirit half-believed him. Judging from the look of worry and concern on Itri’s face and the fact that they were now in a ward-protected room, he surmised that Haulyx wasn't coming completely honest.

“Uh-huh, keep tellig yourself that.” Spirit could see Haulyx’s pink nose already flaring slightly. It looked like it was just waiting for something to bother it just enough. Might as well get it out of the way now.

“You’re rubbing it like it itches” “I’mb just really codgested, besides I did enough sdeezing waking Itri up id the bmornig so i’mb dode” “Oh so that’s where that door slamming came from, your dose?” Spirit taunted, Haulyx blushed and hissed at him.

“I couldn’t exactly stifle whed I’mb getting cuddled by him” “Aw did your lil pixie get your nose all angry?” Haulyx scrunched up his nose at Spirit’s comment. “Shut up’b, mislabeled Halloween aisle,” Spirit noticed how Haulyx’s nose seemed to react just at the mention of Itri’s stardust.

“Oh please I’mb dnot the one who dresses like a witch, nor am i basically allergic to my boyfriend.”

“Shut up or I’ll tap you od the dnose” Haulyx threatened, Spirit laughed at his measly threat and tapped the pad of his finger against Haulyx’s nose.

“Oh you dod’t scare bme, especially that sedsitive dnose of yours” Before Haulyx knew it he was hitching, his nose was dripping and twitching. Usually, it didn't take long for him to sneeze, so when the tickle started to wane away he was left confused and sniffly.

“Did you lose it that quickly?” Spirit asked, Haulyx scrubbed at his nose again knowing the other was baiting him. He didn’t even have the time to say anything back anyway as he started hitching again. He could feel the tickle debating on whether it was going to let him sneeze, getting worse then slowly ebbing off back and forth. His chest heaving as tears welled up in his eyes and his tail twitched stiffly. He waved a hand near his face as he hitched through his words.

“Oh cuuhh cobe od, lehh let-let bme sdeehh hehh! Hehg! Sdeehh hehh…ugh fuck!” He swore with his shoulders slumped. Without much warning, Spirit pressed a couple of tissues to Haulyx’s nose and talked him through it.

“Come on you cad do it, its teasing you so badly?” He gingerly ruffled the tissues against the reddened rims of Haulyx’s nostrils that flared to life. He added a little more pressure against his septum as he did this. This had Haulyx gasping, his lips baring his teeth in a snarl showing his fangs that had grown in. His hands clumsily latched onto Spirit’s wrists to keep his hand where it was right before a desperate inhale finally tipped the scales.

“Hh-uh…UTSscchheuuhww! Hh’UTSscchheuuhww! Hh’UTSscchheuuhww!” His body bent forward harshly with each sneeze, the bedroom door threw itself open and shut itself loudly. The winds outside howled and whistled with nightmare-inducing incoherent whispers. Spirit could feel the tissues becoming soaked with each sneeze. It was a wonder on how his sneezes could be this strong but that wasn’t a question Spirit would ask right now. He waited for the fit to subside to rub Haulyx’s back and encouraged him to blow his nose.

“Go on blow your nose, sounds like you dneed it” He said keeping his tissue-covered hand cupped to Haulyx’s nose. Haulyx complied with a hefty productive blow now making the cluster of tissues unusable. Spirit gently cleaned him up before tossing them into a trash can. When he looked back he had to stifle a laugh Haulyx asked breathlessly what was so funny.

“Your nose is bright red mr ‘colds don’t affect bme badly’.” Haulyx scoffed but didn’t have time to say anything back as Itri and Cass had returned with two bowls of soup.

“Look what we got~” Cass sang softly with a wide grin, he sat himself on Spirit’s side of the bed while Itri went to Haulyx.

“I’mb surprised you two didn’t burd the kitchen down” Haulyx joked, Itri gasped with playful offense only to admit they had asked Leyo the fire spirit to help them out.

“Well you did something, so thagk you” Spirit mused as he took the bowl of soup from Cassanova who crawled up beside him and pulled him close.

“Heard you two sneezing up a storm in here, I'm surprised the ward I cast actually worked” Itri commented, both sickly spirits scowled at him and said “I’mb dnot that bad” In unison making Cass and Itri laugh. They quietly ate their soup for a while untl Cass finally noticed the changes to his boyfriend’s appearance.

“Aaaaw baby you have a tail! Its so cute! Oh my god, you have horns and pointy ears too!” He squealed and curiously grabbed his tail only for Haulyx to warn Cass.

“I wouldn’t grab his tail if I were you, unless you wadda bmake him a blushing mess” Cass raised a brow until Itri added.

“Lets just say demon tails are very sensitive” It took a minute before Cass was blushing himself and put it down. Then a thought came to mind, and he found himself gently tracing the tip of Spirit’s tail

“…you think it’d help if it-” “Don’t eved thigk about it.” Spirit hissed and pulled his tail away from Cass, who whined and pouted.

“Oh come on i’m trying to help you feel better” “Oh he’ll feel better alright…they did say that sort of thing was good for a cold,” Itri snickered, Haulyx wordlessly smacked the celestial entity with a pillow.

“You’re dnot trying that on bme either.” “Alright alright, finish your soup, the sun’s going down, and this is gonna be a long night.” Itri said with a kiss on Haulyx’s forehead. The heat from the soup did seem to help loosen up the congestion that had been building up. Seemed like they had to keep one hand on the spoon and the other on the box of tissues that was starting to dwindle in supply. Thankfully they had more than one.

“Sndddfff sdddrrrff sssdrrrck ugh, shit, where’s the other box?” Asked Spirit as he set his a little more than half-empty bowl down. Cass got up and grabbed the other box, ripped open the top plucked a few, and held them up to his lover’s angry snuffly nose.

“Blow, I’ve got you” Letting out another thick congested blow he huffed and leaned into Cass tiredly. Cass frowned and wrapped his arms around him.

“Oh baby, your nose is so red, poor thing” Then he kissed him on the nose, oh lord. “Hehh hey dod’t do that” Spirit hitched with a miserable tone, this was enough to get Cass going as Spirit’s own sneeze seemed to back away.

“Suhhh sorry i-I cad’t hehh help it Ng'TCHht!” He pinched at his nose to squash down the oncoming fit, however, that didn’t make it stop. He could feel how sick the other two felt, he could feel that feverish body ache in his own bones. He could feel the congestion settling in, the exhaustion from being up during the day-Haulyx and Spirit were nocturnal beings- on top of this heavy cold. To be honest, Cass thought he would have lasted longer than this but this was no small cold.

“Wow, you two must really feel terrible for Cass to sneeze like that!” Both Haulyx and Spirit sent a light glare at the blond who realized his poor choice of words quickly. Spirit gently pried Cass’s hand away from his nose and replaced it with a tissue.

“Its okay Cassie, cobe od I’ve got it, let it out” He encouraged in a soft voice or as soft as his sore throat would let him. Cass hitched sharply before bucking down and letting out a rapid fit. “hhITDSHHHHhew Ht’zzzshiiiew! Ht’ssshiiiew! Heh! hhITDSHHHHhew!”

Cass shuddered at the forcefulness of the sneezes and rubbed at his nose. “Sorry sorry” He apologized, Spirit only frowned with concern.

“You sure you dod’t wadda step out for a bit, love?” Cass immediately shook his head pouted and hugged Spirit.

“No no, i’ll be fine, nothing I can’t handle, I’m supposed to worry about you ya know.” He combed his fingers softly through Spirit’s hair while Haulyx was being cuddled by Itri who seemed to have another idea and picked up Haulyx’s spell book.

“What are you doing?” The witchy demon asked, Itri flipped through pages as he answered.

“Trying to find a spell that could help” “I promise you there isn’t ode” Haulyx stated “Maybe you just haven’t looked” Itri shrugged tunnel visioned on look through the book. It was a few moments before an ‘ah! Found it’ came and Haulyx tried to reach for it.

“Hold on, let bme see” “I’ve got it I’ve got it” Itri dismissed, Haulyx wasn’t convinced but Itri was already attempting to say the spell. His nose started to tickle all over again and as Itri mispronounced the words the worse it got. “Hehh hey stuhh stop you’re guhh godda hehh huhhh oh fuck, ihh Itri!” Haulyx desperately grabbed around for a tissue but couldn’t find one as his eyes were squinted shut and his nose trembled with irritation. Haulyx fanned his face with one hand as he attempted to will himself into not sneezing. Itri had finally seen this but even though he couldn’t move in time, Haulyx did manage to grab the purple blanket he had and bring it up to his nose to muffle the disaster of a fit.

“Hh-uh…UTSscchheuuhww! Hh’UTSscchhmmmph! ’UTSscchhmmmphh!!! Huhh ’UTSscchhmmmph!!’.” The room shook hard, and the lights flickered but it seemed like Haulyx wasn’t done. Itri finally had time to set the book down and cradle Haulyx’s nose with a couple of tissues. He felt the tissues quickly dampen with each sneeze, one right after the other forcing mess out of the demonic council member.

“I see now why Mother Nature sent out that notice yesterday.” Itri smiled.

“Oh shush Pixie boy,” Haulyx retorted before ducking into the blanket for another wet sneeze.

Itri draped his hand over his head dramatically. “Oh I am so hurt, maybe I should say the spell again.” He winked but made no effort too. Haulxy wrapped his arms around his waist and pleaded snuffly. “Oh god please no, never again.”

“Okay okay I wont baby, aw my lil witch c’mer” He slipped back into bed and pulled Haulyx into his chest.

“Poor thing, all because of a funny lil trick of the sun turning the moon red~” He teased, a short gasp came from the other side of the bed and Itri turned to see Spirit struggling once again.

“Aw well at least both your noses match the color~” That did it, thankfully Cassanova seemed prepared with one kiss to the tip of Spirit’s nose he went into another drenching fit into a handful of hastily grabbed tissues.

“Well I didn’t think that would work” Itri chuckled as he watched, and while he wasn’t watching he got a surprise sneeze right against his collarbone from Haulyx. This one was a lot softer but just as wet. It send a shudder up his spine and had Itri blushing gold in the face.

“Hey now, hold on let me get you a tissue” “i-I cahh cad’t huhh UTSscchheeeuuuuhww! UTSscchheeeuuuhww! UuuTSssscchhhh” Itri’s eyes softened as he held Haulyx deciding to wait and just let him get it all out. He could tell these were his tired sneezes, they only got this drawn out and soft when he was sleepy.

“There you go, baby let it out, its okay, I know your poor nose is so angry” He cooed lovingly, brushing Haulyx’s hair out of his face. Both Spirit and Haulyx were having tiring fits it seemed. Spirit was curled up sniffling and rubbing his nose into his sleeve onto ending up sneezing quietly into it. Cass kept his shivering form wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket.

“Aw did all those big sneezes tire you out? Deep breathes sweetheart, once you’re done you should try and sleep” Cass suggested rubbing warm circles against his back. Soon the room got quiet as their fitting seemed to die down turning into soft snoring.

“And they’re asleep” Itr smiled, Cass nodded and whispered to the other. “They’re so cute though” “I know right, I forgot how high-pitched and soft his sneezes get” “Same, hopefully this won't last too long and they’ll feel better soon.”

#GroundZero's fics #Collab snzfic #Collab fic #original characters #Groundzero's OCs #The weather boys #The council #Vic and I's OCs #snzfic #snzblr #nonkink blogs don't interact

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seong456 · 3 months ago

Note

lowkey what do you think of that actor Lee jung jae y’all lowkey look alike cuhh

i would take that as a compliment

#squid game rp #squid game #gi hun answers #gi hun #player 456

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snezus-christ-risen · 8 months ago

Text

This time of year always has me revisiting this fic I wrote nearly a decade ago (!!). The Wolf Among Us will always have a special place in my heart, and it’s my go to when I’m in the rare mood for giant, destructive sneezes. I hope someone enjoys it!

Fall Festival (Bigby Wolf, M, allergies)

When the Farm was founded over almost two-hundred years ago, Snow White took it upon herself to establish a new annual tradition. The Fall Festival was unique to the Farm, something the Fables who resided there could call their own. Bigby always saw it as a salve for the wounded egos of the Fables who were unable to continue their residence in Fabletown, due to their inability to blend in with the growing population of Mundies in New York City. At first the residents grumbled about the money that went into the festival when most of them could not even afford basic glamours, but they grew to love the festival and looked forward to it every year.

Bigby was not fond of the festival. Typically he did everything he could to avoid it but since he and Snow became closer this past year, she had asked him to help out. And being a sucker, he agreed. This year was especially important to her; she wanted to help her fellow Fables take their minds off the gruesome circumstances of the past several months.

“No, not there,” she said, and Bigby, having just set the hay bale down, hoisted it back onto his broad shoulders. “Put it on top of that one.”

He heaved it onto the other bale with a grunt. Clapping the hay-dust from his hands, he looked back at Snow for her approval. She stood at a distance, her hand cupping her chin and her eyes narrowed as she analyzed the composition of the hay maze. She was the brains behind the design; all Bigby did was lift the heavy things.

“Looks good,” she said at last, allowing herself a small smile.

Snow had been especially uptight in the weeks leading up to the festival. Bigby couldn’t remember the last time she actually looked relaxed, but now she seemed pleased to see her efforts finally coming to fruition. Tilting her head, she pressed her fingers to her lips before extending it towards the maze.

“Just a few more over there,” she said, gesturing towards a bald spot in the hay wall on his right, “and we should be set.”

Bigby glanced over his shoulder at the truck, which held about four more bales. Colin was lounging in the bed, snoring and occasionally twitching a hoof. Smirking, Bigby made his way over to the truck, pausing to twitch his nose in an exaggerated manner.

“Whew!” he declared loudly enough to wake Colin. “I think this hay is starting to get to me…”

The pig peered up at Bigby with one eye open. He did not look amused. Bigby tried not to smile as he continued his act. He tilted his head back, nostrils dilating as he bared his canines.

“I think… hh’UHHHhhh… I feel a sneezing cuhh… coming… ahhh’HUH!...”

Even his fake pre-sneeze breaths were powerful enough to make the truck sway. Colin was fully awake now, both eyes wide open. There was a look of growing terror on his face that made it hard for Bigby to keep his composure.

“Hey!” Colin leapt to his hoofs, diving out of the line of fire. “Watch it, blowhard!”

Bigby burst into laughter, earning himself a scowl from Snow. Apparently she was still keeping an eye on him. It wasn’t her worst idea.

“Behave yourself,” she warned, as Colin cowered behind her.

“Hey, he was slacking,” Bigby protested, but Snow continued to glare at him, arms folded across her chest. “I was just playing around.”

“You make people nervous enough without all that huffing and puffing,” she said. “Just… try to be good. For today. For me.”

Bigby breathed out slowly through his nose and kept his mouth shut. Snow took this as acquiescence and made her way to the apple bobbing station, where one of the blind mice had fallen into the water and was squeaking for some assistance. Colin was close on her heels, throwing the occasional nervous glance over his shoulder at Bigby. He toyed with the idea of making a scary face, but decided to control himself, for Snow’s sake.

Kneeling on the edge of the truck, he lifted the largest bale out of the bed and propped it on his shoulders. After steadying himself, he decided he could manage a second block. The half-ton hay bales were a breeze to carry, even in his human form. Balancing the two bales on his hunching back, Bigby shuffled over to the entrance of the nearly completed maze. Snow was still preoccupied with the festival games, so Bigby tried to remember on his own where she had wanted the last few hay bales.

While he was contemplating his placement options he felt some dusty residue float down from the bale, brushing lightly, almost imperceptibly, against his cheek. These bales were not as tightly packed as the others, and as Bigby shifted his weight small bits of hay tumbled down over his face and back. He set one hay bale down for a moment, readjusting the position of the other on his back. This process stirred up even more organic debris, sending dust and tiny bits of hay to infiltrate his sensitive nose. His nostrils widened with an involuntary sniffle, drawing in even more of the dust.

“Shit,” he coughed, dropping the other bale where he stood and knuckling at his nose.

The impact of the hay bale hitting the ground set up a formidable cloud of dust. Bigby coughed again, causing the hay bales closest to him to rustle slightly in the resulting gust. Through a blur of tears he could see some of the Fables nearby stop what they were doing to watch him nervously.

Usually, with enough warning, Bigby could excuse himself to a more secluded area to take care of this sort of business. It was only a short distance to the woods from the farm entrance, but Bigby was locked in place, paralyzed by the all-consuming urge to sneeze. He could hear Snow behind him, her voice trembling as she called his name. Even if he could, turning towards her was the last thing he wanted to do. The hay bales slid closer to him with every breath as if pulled by an invisible rope, gradually distorting the composition of the maze. His expression contorted just as steadily; his face elongated as his mouth stretched into a wide yawn, every sharp tooth on display for all to see, as his breathing became more ragged and vocal.

“Hehhhhhh…” Two of the hay bales that were placed on top of others toppled over, then skittered backwards in the wake of his powerful exhale. “h’ohhhhhh… heh… HUHHH!…”

The Fable who found themselves in the danger zone quickly hurried to safety. They murmured amongst themselves in fear and awe as their biggest, baddest resident drew in a seemingly endless breath, his chest swelling and nearly bursting through his flannel shirt. Bigby managed to pry his eyes open just enough to make sure the coast was clear before releasing an enormously destructive sneeze.

“hh’ASSHHCHHHHHHhhhhhuuoooo!”

The hay bales burst simultaneously, the maze becoming a chaotic swirl of grass and hay. Bigby caught a glimpse of the destruction before his eyes fluttered shut again, but this time he had enough control over his body to lift his hand and pinch his nostrils shut, releasing a comparatively smaller set of stifled sneezes.

“Hn’kssh! n’tch! … huehh… HH-kcht!-ahhhhh...”

Bigby nonchalantly tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and gave his nose a wipe. The other Fables stood speechless around him, once again reminded of the great strength and power of the Big Bad Wolf. When he was certain he was finished he glanced back at Snow, who looked angry, sad, and amused all at once.

“Sorry,” he grunted, not sure what else to say.

“The hay maze was never that popular anyway,” Snow said quickly, but he could tell that she was disappointed.

“There’s still time to make another,” Bigby said.

“Though I would recommend not letting Bigby help out anymore,” Colin added bitterly.

“No,” Snow said, tapping her finger against her chin and looking at Bigby with a sparkle in her eye. “No, I have a better idea… a new activity for the festival...”

Bigby spent that Fall Festival and every one thereafter begrudgingly providing wolfback rides to the other Fables. He took them through the meadows and the orchards, but avoided the barns and other areas where hay was plentiful.

#t/wau #sneezefic #b/igby w/olf

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