I am also incredibly shy and may just lurk most of the time! Feel free to talk to me whenever though, I'd love to make friends in the community :)
I exclusively write sickfics or other whumpy content. My AO3 links are:
Winter's "main" (plot and/or angst-intensive sickfics / whump fics.)
Wintertalons (just the kink. May include both SFW and NSFW.)
Winter writes tag for fics here on Tumblr.
Currently into D/eltar/une as my main interest (T/EN/NA MY BELOVED).
What you might see here:
Sneezing (yup, this is my main kink – major preference for colds, any gender, (fictional) contagion, etc.)
Fevers, illness in general, whump (particularly illness-based whump)
Emeto (slowly finding out I might be into more belly stuff? But that’s the main one.)
...And that's about it! Going back into hiding now :)
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I really enjoy someone sneezing from being cold, especially cold and wet. Not sick or getting sick even, just purely from the cold. Give me a guy getting soaked in the freezing rain and letting out a string of tiny, pitiful sneezes, even an hour or more after he's come inside, wrapped himself in a blanket, and had a mug of cocoa.
A character who shows up to the function sick, but since they don’t say anything about it, no one else brings it up either (even though they all can tell). But as the evening wears on, they start to feel much, much worse, unsteady on their feet and fuzzy-headed while they try to hide what would be their more obvious symptoms.
Until finally they return to the group and say, wearily, “I…don’t feel well.” Most of the group is like, “Yeah, we know” in a casual, lightly teasing way.
But the character’s close friend is visibly concerned like, “No, you don’t understand, if they’re saying that, they’re about to hit the floor.”
Something about how inherently embarrassing it is for a character to find out they've been delirious for an amount of time. Like, I just love how universal this trope is -- in almost every piece of media I've Consumed where a character is told outright or it's implied to them that they've been Very out of it and slipping in and out of consciousness for a while, the reaction is always oh god really?? The discomfort of knowing just How vulnerable they were.
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Fevers in places that are already either way too hot or way too cold for comfort 🙏
In a building or a vehicle that has the A/C cooling all the way up. Outside on a really chilly night. In a drafty house in winter. Woefully underdressed for the climate. They were already shivering a little from the fever, and they’d probably shiver a little in this situation even if they didn’t have a fever, so in combination they’re shivering enough it’s making their teeth chatter. It’s sapping every last bit of energy they had, really quickly and efficiently.
Dead of summer. Vehicle or building with broken A/C, or just A/C turned way too low. On a hike in the sun. In long sleeves or long pants when it’s too hot for something like that. Overworking and feeling way too physically warm from it. Maybe they can even tolerate the heat just fine normally, maybe they can’t, but either way it’s putting them far over the edge and it’s making them flushed and sweaty and nauseous. Just maximum possible discomfort from this fever.
hiii!! sorry to bother you dont have to answer if you dont want to,, but i was in the middle of reading your "send me an angel" fic and i saw that you removed it...i just wanted to know if its ever gonna be put back or if its just gone forever, its okay either way cus its your decision but i just wanted to let you know that i was really enjoying it and if you ever decide to put it back i will be happy to keep reading it!!
Yeah, I... might've been having a moment of panic when I removed that fic. I think it's the weakest thing I've written so far and I'm not very happy with it, nor can I fix it without completely redoing the whole thing, which I'm not willing to do. It's unfortunately ended up causing me a lot of stress to the point where it's affecting me physically.
I do want to finish it anyway, so to answer your question: yes, I would like to return it someday. I just don't know when. I'd prefer to have at least some of the rest written first, but I don't have a whole lot of motivation for it yet. Maybe I'll be less anxious about it sooner than that. I'm happy to hear that you were enjoying it regardless :) Thanks for your interest!
its that time again its tenna fic rec fridayyyy this week its:
Of Paint and Poison by WingsofWinter on Ao3
T Rating / Complete, ~15k words
Relationships: Swatch / Tenna
Summary: Ever since he’d first arrived in Castle Town, Tenna had found himself surrounded by friends both old and new. So why is it that he feels so utterly and desperately alone?
In his efforts to carry on through the pain, he pushes himself to the brink in a way that leaves him literally seeing the world through rose-tinted glass. Luckily, a certain café bartender knows a thing or two about color theory
mmmyyyy secret is that i love swatchtenna (particularly castletown variants) even though i dont draw it a lot i spin them around in my brain sometimes. and my other Secret is that even tho this rec is specifically for Of Paint and Poison its also a blanket rec for all of WingsofWinter's fics bc theyre all really good.
For this fic specifically i like the elaboration on Swatch's powers and the way they're able to interact with others through their magic since we don't actually see that in the game bc hes well. a shopkeeper and its used in a really cool way in order to explore tenna's emotional state while he's in castle town and in an active state of deterioration (and giving tenna cathode poisoning is really clever). its very sweet + i have a big soft spot for stuff where tenna's able to get cared for. i like sickfics a decent amount but even outside of this aspect this fic + WingsofWinter's other fics are really well done. definitely give their work a shot!
i think your fics have made me like. discover a few things about myself let's say. so i want to thank you for that :3 even besides the beautiful kinky shit it's wonderful to have so many tenna-centric sickfics lol, he's built so perfectly for them
Whoa that is so cool to hear!! Happy to have helped :) And yeah, idk what it is about T/enna, but I have never been more fixated on a single character in my life, so I'm happy to finally get to share the more self-indulgent stuff I've kept in my brain, and even happier that others seem to enjoy it too haha
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*snz-kink content, please do not rb to non-kink blogs*
Fandom: D/eltarune S/pamT/enna
Length: ~5.5k words
Summary: T/en/na snzfic based on the static buildup headcanon posts. The excess static from being sick causes a seemingly endless cycle of sneezing and misery, until S/pamt/on finds a way to help ease it.
CW: Sneezing (M), cold symptoms, mentions of contagion, brief themes of public humiliation, a moderately suggestive massage (nothing outright explicit)
Extra notes: I'm sure I have a long way to go with my snz spellings, but I think I've improved a lot since the last one :) This also includes stuffy talk, although I half-assed it because even though I love reading it, I hate writing it myself. Overall, this one's still quite tame, but I'm hoping to branch out from that eventually!
AO3 version
As usual, the TV studio was bustling with activity by the time Tenna arrived backstage. The place had been livelier than ever the whole week, what with the schedule for TV Time filling up their calendar, and at Tenna’s direction, his crewmembers were keeping busy with the ever-changing lighting and the increasingly eccentric stage props. Now that the show was really taking off, both he and his co-star Spamton had hardly gotten a break from the hectic life of showbusiness.
But as much of a dream come true as it was, he was also completely exhausted.
Tenna hadn’t been feeling his best right from the get-go when he’d woken up this morning with a scratchy throat and a persistent sniffle. In hindsight, it probably should’ve been obvious: having a one-on-one interview segment for the show with an interviewee who was blatantly sick with a streaming cold was, perhaps, not the smartest of moves. But the Addison CEO he’d invited on was a big household name, and with the rate that they were upsizing, they simply couldn’t afford to reject the views it would bring in, so Tenna had endured exposing himself to the cold-ridden air between them for an hour straight.
He’d hoped to avoid ending up the same as him later in the week, and for a little while, it had seemed like he’d succeeded. In the time since the show finished on Monday, Tenna had taken every opportunity he could to rest as much as his busy schedule would allow, though of course, it still left much to be desired.
For the first few days, he’d felt perfectly peachy as his efforts seemed to pay off. That is, until this Thursday morning had finally come along, bringing with it a slight tickle behind his screen that signaled the first of what would inevitably become the early stages of his cold.
It wasn’t that bad, though. He’d suffered through so, so much worse over the years, and if there was anything he’d learned from them, it was that the show must alwaysgo on!
Speaking of, Spamton was approaching him now, holding various looseleaf scripts in one hand.
“Ah, there you are, Tens! You ready for the show or what?”
Instinctively, Tenna perked up at the mention of his professional obligations. He had to keep his posture looking good for the cameras, after all! “’Course I am!”
Spamton nodded. “Great, because I’ve finally got everything sorted with the sponsors. I’m gonna keep it real with you, Cathode—you are so lucky you don’t have to deal with these guys nearly as much now that you have me.”
Tenna chuckled at that. “It is nice to outsource the words from our sponsors!” He paused to clear his throat then after his voice came out a bit rougher than he’d intended.
Spamton raised a brow. “You good? Need to do some vocal warm-ups first?”
“Ah—no, I’m alright. Throat’s just a little dry from giving stage directions all morning. You know how it is,” he said with a shrug and a definitely-not-forced grin.
“Mm-hmm. Speaking of dry, have you read these trivia questions?” Spamton smacked his stack of papers with the back of his other hand. “Here, get this: they’re claiming that the 1993 Cungadero is more powerful than the 1987 model.” He scoffed incredulously. “Seriously, who wrotethese?! Everyone knows the newer one gets less horsepower than the ’87!”
“Oh, yeah, everyone,” Tenna said, having no idea what Spamton was talking about. Today’s trivia show had been written by their sponsor tie-in, a car manufacturing group of some kind from the city. Spamton knew how to be appeasing when it came to working with them, but given his… particular interests, he was perhaps just a little more confrontative this time around.
Suddenly, his antennas pinged with an incoming message. Reaching up to the side of his head with a jolt, he heard Mike’s voice speaking to him through their channel:
“Hey, Tenna, we’re all set over here. Ready to go?”
“Yep, all good! You can go ahead and get everything started. Thanks, Mike!”
“Got it. You’re both on in five.”
Clearing his throat again, he glanced down at Spamton. “Shall we?”
--
Normally, Tenna felt perfectly at home basking in the glow of the stage lights, their bold intensity complimenting his pale complexion and vividly red-and-yellow outfit. But for whatever reason, the moment he stepped into their harsh rays, he could only feel a sense of discomfort. They were much too warm and bright, so much so that he visibly flinched as soon as they’d washed over his screen.
Ah, well—he’d have to remind Mike to check for any calibration or wiring issues later. For now, he had an introduction to get through. With Spamton by his side, Tenna took a deep breath, held up his mic, and let the opening lines flow through him.
“Gooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! As always, I’ll be your lovely host for tonight, and joining me as our wonderful cohost is the just-as-lovely Spamton G. Spamton!”
“Please, Ant, you’re too kind,” Spamton spoke into his own smaller copy of the standard TV Time microphone, an edge of exasperation to his voice given Tenna’s tendency to overdo it with the praise.
Nevertheless, Tenna continued with enthusiasm. “We’ve got a great show lined up for you this time, wihithh… a-hem, with tonight’s special guests!”
Out of nowhere, an utterly irresistible tickle had settled itself deep inside his nose, drawing out a breathy hitch midsentence that he couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried. No problem—he’d take care of it in between lines. A slight pause, and he reached up to scrub at his nose as subtly as possible, taking no more than a second before lowering his hand again.
…Apparently, that was a huge mistake.
The very moment his glove had brushed up against his screen and under his already sensitive nares, he could feel the prickle of static electricity spread into the fabric, elevating the offending itch into the beginnings of a storm.
“In just a-huhh… snff, a few moments, we’ll be introducing our c-contesthhants… hihh—ih’TSSHuhh!”
In a mad panic, he scrambled for the handkerchief folded securely in his front suit pocket, managing to retrieve it and turn away from the cameras just in time to muffle the sneeze that escaped him. He breathed a half-sigh of relief; guess that was taken care of.
Only now that the white, silky fabric of the handkerchief, one corner embroidered with “T.V. Time” in bright red thread, was right up against his screen, he was finding that even the slightest of movements was sending that same fuzzy feeling of static cling across his face, tickling the inside of his nose all over again.
Focus, you’ve got an intro to get through!
Unfortunately, it seemed like his nose had other plans. He didn’t even manage to get through his next breath before the fit took over him entirely.
“…ng’GNXSHHh!! Hh’TZSHHht…! Huhh—ihgGXZSSHTuhh!!”
Each and every one was just as unsatisfying as the last, stifled harshly into the cloth and exacerbating the itch as the storm only seemed to grow. Sparks flashed from the tips of his antennas, sending an additional shudder through his body with each sneeze and making his microphone crackle slightly, prompting a startled look from Spamton beside him.
He didn’t speak aloud, but a pointed glare and rise of his brow sent him a clear message: What the hell is going on?
Tenna made an attempt to pull the fabric away, but it was immediately apparent that that wasn’t a good idea. Already, his nose was streaming like a faucet—he couldn’t move it yet, but leaving it meant that the staticky prickle wouldn’t go away, either.
His gaze darted nervously towards the cameras, the stare of the lenses piercing him. Shit—he had to think of something, quick.
“Ahh… a-actually, folks,” he began, still desperately holding the handkerchief up to his screen, “before we introduce our lovely contestants, we have a quick w-word from—hh—haH’TSCHHHh…! Hahh—from our s-sponsors!” Before the next tickle could bloom, he added under his breath, “Mike, run the ads, please!”
Spamton shot him another questioning look. Since when did they start a show with ads?
Tenna could only spare him a brief glance as he backed away, flashing the “technical difficulties” screen as he turned to rush backstage, hoping he’d get the message. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either, as his next breath demanded more from him, snapping his head forward with the force of each sneeze. “…ih’GTSCHHh—! Hhh—A’KTSCHHEW!!”
With that last one, he paused to blow, doing his best to muffle the sound of it away from the audio equipment. By now, the cloth in his hand was rather soaked, much to his disdain. But by some miracle, the loss of static charge took at least some of the irritation with it, giving him a chance to breathe at last. Gingerly, he dabbed at his screen, and only a minute or so later, Tenna snapped to attention when he noticed Spamton approaching him, pushing his way through the curtains to join him in the back.
“Alright, what’s with the sparks, Tenn? You dyin’ or something?”
“Ughh… I think I have a cold,” Tenna groaned, wincing slightly now that the fit had torn up his raw throat. “I get all this static buildup and I cahahhn’t… s-stop… ngh’GXSSHHhuhh…!” Another spark coiled its way up his antennas as he whipped his head to the side to catch the next one in the crook of his arm, ending it with a pitifully thick sniffle. “…Sneezing,” he finished.
“Really, now? I hadn’t noticed,” Spamton teased.
“Mnnh… it just keeps coming,” Tenna complained. “Usually the excess static isn’t this bad unless I have a fever, though…”
At that, Spamton narrowed his eyes. “It’s not, is it?”
He approached then, reaching up towards Tenna’s casing as best he could. But before he could make contact, Tenna flinched away, just barely feeling the staticky prickle react to Spamton’s feathery hand and making the soft material stand on end.
“Don’t…!” He warned, coughing twice with the strain of raising his voice. “Don’t get too close, it’s not safe!”
Spamton couldn’t help staring at his hand in fascination. “Whoa… so whatever you touch gets a nice static charge, huh? No wonder you keep getting set off; you were practically burrowing your face in conductive fabric the whole time up there.”
“I guess so,” Tenna said, absentmindedly rubbing a hand under his nose and very promptly being reminded why that was a poor choice. “Hheh—heH'TSSHhuhh…!”
“Case in point,” Spamton said, crossing his arms. He paused then, noting the discomfort in Tenna’s expression. “Maybe just skip the covering for a bit, alright, Cathode? Wouldn’t want you to short-circuit in the middle of things.”
His antennas drooped considerably. “I’ll get everyone sick if I don’t,” he said, dejection creeping into his tone.
Spamton sighed, raising a hand to rub at his temple briefly. “Then go home and rest, idiot. Unless you wanna be completely miserable on set for the next few hours, then go ahead—be my guest.”
“But… you’ll be hosting the show alone,” Tenna argued. “I can’t just drop this on you right when we’re supposed to be starting…”
“Aw, c’mon Cathode, I thought you’d give me a little more credit than that,” he said, the corner of his mouth stretching into an amused smile. “I think I can handle a basic trivia show where the questions were all prewritten for us.”
Oh. He had a point there, Tenna supposed. But still, there was a glimmer of worry gnawing at his gut. He knew Spamton could do a perfectly fine job on his own—he was damn good at this, really—but Tenna was normally present onstage to act as a counterbalance, and he’d already declared his disdain for today’s sponsor. What if it was a disaster in waiting?
“I know, but are you sure? It’s—snff—not that bad, I’ve worked through stuff like this before,” he tried.
Spamton didn’t buy it. “Yeah, I’m sure.” When Tenna failed to stop a look of disappointment from taking over his screen, his own expression softened. “Here, how about this—if you’ve got a temperature, I’m getting Mike to ban you from the set. If not, you can keep working. Deal?”
Tenna perked up a little. He didn’t feel particularly warm, and the lightheadedness was probably because he hadn’t quite caught his breath yet. He was fine to keep going, and this would prove it. “Alright, deal.”
Nodding, Spamton glanced around briefly, flagging down a nearby Pippins working backstage. “You—get us a thermometer. A glass one, not one of the digital ones with the metal tip, got it?”
With a much too perceptible eyeroll, the Pippins nodded in acknowledgement and set off, returning only a few minutes later after pillaging what was likely a very outdated and not-up-to-code medical supply closet. But it would have to do for now.
Tenna watched as Spamton took the device from them before offering it to him. “Go on, let’s see.”
Hesitantly, Tenna accepted and slipped it under his tongue, grimacing at the stale taste of it. Spamton, meanwhile, looked satisfied with himself.
“Figured the metal one would get zapped. This should work instead.”
“Mmhmm…”
An awkward pause, and eventually, the red-dyed liquid in the thermometer came to a halt. Tenna removed it with impatient flick of his tail, but as soon as he did so, Spamton snatched it from him.
“100.7, huh? Looks like a fever to me,” he chided.
His antennas drooped in disappointment. “It could be worse,” he protested. “I-I can stihhill—hahh’ESHHEWw!! Hhh’ESHCHIEWW! …Nngh,” he moaned as another harsh tickle caught him off guard. At the same time, more electricity sparked from him greedily, threatening to jump towards the nearest piece of equipment, had Tenna not angled his head away in time.
…Maybe it was a good idea to turn in, after all. His shoulders sank; he was more of a liability than anything like this, wasn’t he? A walking electrical hazard. Besides, he’d already managed to embarrass himself once with a fit in front of the live cameras. He wasn’t eager to do so again.
Spamton shot him a sympathetic look, placing the thermometer on the table nearest to them. “You were saying, Tens?”
“Fine,” Tenna conceded with a dramatic sigh. “Tell Mike I’m calling out sick, then. You can take over. And please,” he added, “whatever you do, do not get us sued for libel, okay?”
“…Ehh, no promises.”
“Spamton.”
“Alright, alright, I won’t,” he said, only half-jokingly. “Seriously, don’t worry about it, Cathode. Go get some rest—I’ll see you after the show.”
With a tiny nod, Tenna watched as Spamton headed back through the curtains now that Mike had likely run out of extra in-case-of-emergency advertisements to shove in front of their audience. For now, it seemed there was nothing more for him to do other than head back to his room.
It wasn’t too far from the showroom, but Tenna struggled to keep his tail from dragging along the floor along the way. Despite having subsided a little, the itch deep in his screen was still lurking, occasionally causing it to flicker with glitchy static interference. At least he didn’t have to worry about the cameras picking it up anymore.
Upon arriving, Tenna wasted no time powering on the main TV screen mounted on the wall, already tuned in to the broadcast from the showroom. If he couldn’t join him, then watching Spamton perform from here was the next best thing.
He’s doing great! Why was I even worried?
As the next hour ticked by, though, Tenna couldn’t stop the returning sense of doubt that crept up on him, helpless against the way the dense fog seemed to slowly wrap itself around his mind.
…Was he going to be upset with him for getting sick during the show? He’d have every right to; they’d had everything planned all week, and Tenna had suddenly changed that plan with less than a moment’s notice.
“…ngh’GNXSHHh! Snrrrk—ugh…”
The tissues by his bedside were equally prone to static cling, but with how delicate they were on top of how much more congested he felt compared to even just an hour ago, they weren’t setting him off quite as much. A thread of silver lining in a tapestry of misery, he supposed.
He twitched an antenna towards the screen across from him. The outro theme for the show was playing—was it over already? It was only meant to be an hour long with commercial breaks included, so it made sense. Still, he hadn’t quite realized it had been that long already.
Before the credits had even finished rolling, he jolted in surprise when a knock came from the door. Without needing an answer, Spamton pushed his way through, carrying what looked to be a mug of warm liquid, the translucent wisps of steam trailing softly above it as he approached.
“Hey, Cathode, how’re ya feeling?”
“Mm… tired,” he replied, lifting his gaze towards him.
Spamton nodded, apparently having expected that answer. “Here, I brought you this,” he said, offering him the mug with an arm outstretched. “It’s tea. Thought it might help.”
Tenna looked down at it questioningly, then back up at Spamton. “Oh… you’re ndot… mad at mbe?”
Spamton raised a brow. “What? No, why would I be mad at you? I told you, it’s not a big deal.”
“Mmm… still,” was all Tenna could manage for a reply. “You did ambazing out there without mbe.”
Tentatively, he took the drink into his hands then, melting into the warmth it provided through his gloves before taking a generous sip of it. Immediately, the feeling of it sliding down his throat was nothing short of wondrous, though the relief it brought was short lived, as he couldn’t help pausing to cough a few times after he’d placed it on the nightstand.
“…Sorry,” he croaked.
Spamton watched him, an uncharacteristic layer of concern visible deep in his eyes. “You sound pretty stuffed up. Not as feisty as you were before, either; you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, he reached out again, only for Tenna to flinch away like a kicked dog just as he had the first time. “Don’t… I told you, it’s ndot safe…”
Spamton looked crestfallen, pulling his arm back in a slow, steady motion. “Tenn… do you really go without any physical contact when you’re sick normally?”
Tenna gave him a piteous nod, much to his partner’s dismay given that he was staring at him like he’d just told him he has six months to live. “’S’okay, I’mb used to it,” he said with a light sniffle. “It’s ndot so bad, ‘cept when all the extra static makes my antennas feel really sore after a while…”
Spamton’s gaze drifted towards them, still bent slightly out of shape now that Tenna didn’t have the energy to keep them properly upright. “…Do they hurt right now?”
Tenna hesitated. Right now, everything felt sore and achy, and the more he focused on it, the more he could feel another tickle building inside his nose. “…A little,” he admitted. “I—h-hihh… hiht’TSHHEWW! Ow… Snnfff…”
He hadn’t bothered trying to stifle that one, wincing at the way it scraped against his throat and drew out a renewed, angry spark from his antennas. God, it was like this cold was designed to make him personally feel as wretched as possible. He’d have to talk to Mike about setting up a strict “NO SICK GUESTS” policy from now on.
Beside him, Spamton sighed. “Hold on, I think I left the thermometer backstage. I’ll be right back.”
As before, it didn’t take him long to return, though Tenna had taken to settling a little deeper into his bed in the meantime, drawn to the way it pulled him in as he shivered slightly underneath the covers. The night was still young, but already, he was exhausted, though he suspected that sleep wouldn’t be very restful anyway with the constant feeling of static brimming underneath the surface of his screen.
Once Spamton was in view again, he began returning to Tenna’s bedside with the thermometer in hand. However, he slowed until he came to a halt entirely, a thoughtful look crossing his expression.
“…Spam? Whadt is it?”
He shook his head briefly, then finished his approach. “Here, put this in your mouth. I have an idea—don’t go anywhere, okay?”
That would be a very difficult thing for him to do right now, but with a confused tilt of his head, Tenna humored him. “Um… okay.”
Half-bewildered, half-amused, he watched then as Spamton raced out of the room again, leaving him to wait a bit more patiently this time around. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be, after all.
--
Spamton walked as fast as he physically could without breaking into a full-blown sprint towards the studio’s Green Room. If this was going to work the way he hoped it would, then what he needed was most likely somewhere around here.
As usual, he spotted Ramb stationed at the bar, and upon seeing him enter, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Fancy seeing you here at this hour, mate. What can I get ya?”
Spamton ignored him, heading straight for the electrical supplies closet adjacent to the bar and shoving his way past the door. “Not now, Ramb.”
“…Sure, help yourself, why don’t you,” he muttered behind him, though Spamton hardly heard it. He was on a mission.
…Except, the more he looked, practically ransacking every drawer and unlabeled box, the further he seemed from finding what he was after. Eventually, he was made aware of the fact that Ramb was standing in the doorway watching him when he rather loudly cleared his throat.
“Can I help you find anything, mate?” He asked, his tone dripping with annoyance.
At last, Spamton looked up at him. “Insulated gloves—where are they? I need to borrow some.”
Ramb raised a brow skeptically. “Depends, what do you need them for?”
Spamton sighed. Always a thing with this guy. “Tenna’s not feeling well. I thought they might let me help.”
To his surprise, however, Ramb’s expression softened at that. “Ah, I see. Now that’s awfully sweet of you, innit? You sure you’re feeling okay, mate?”
“…Shut up, Ramb,” Spamton growled. “Not a word of this to anyone, understood?”
Ramb chuckled. “Heh… don’t worry, my lips are sealed.” He raised a hand then, pointing at a box underneath one of the shelves that Spamton had somehow missed. “Should be in there. I’ll even let ya keep ‘em; needed to restock this place, anyway.”
At his word, Spamton scrambled to open it, relieved to find that they were there, even if the yellow with black cuffs wasn’t the most attractive color combination. Shoving them into his pocket without a second thought, he turned and exited the closet, already heading for the hallway. Behind him, Ramb called out once more, “Have fun!”
Spamton did his best to ignore him for a second time. He just needed to focus on getting back to Tenna.
Sure enough, he was right where he’d left him in his bed by the time Spamton returned, though he looked drowsy from the way he’d sunken into his pillow, thermometer poking listlessly from his mouth. But, as soon as Spamton approached, he seemed to perk up a little.
“Alright, let’s see,” he said as he took the thermometer back, though his heart dropped in his chest when he saw the reading. “101.8. Shit—your fever went way up.”
Tenna didn’t look nearly as alarmed, instead moving to sit up, only to find that it dizzied him. “Mmn… think I’ve got something here,” he muttered.
Spamton followed his gaze, pulling open the topmost drawer of his nightstand to find a half-empty bottle of fever reducers. Huh—how convenient. In a precise motion, he popped it open to retrieve two of the tablets, handing them and the still-warm mug of tea back to Tenna. “Should probably take these now, before we get started.”
“Hah… thanks,” Tenna replied, downing them quickly, much to Spamton’s relief. “…Wait, start whadt…?”
Spamton brandished the gloves from his pocket, slipping them on with shocking ease. “Mind if I try giving your antennas a massage?”
Tenna’s casing shifted into an expression of surprise, staring at his hands as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea. “Huh…? But… are you sure that’ll work…?”
That was what he’d said, but behind the uncertainty, Spamton could see that he so very, very desperately wanted it to. “Only one way to find out.”
Slowly, delicately, Spamton leaned forward, allowing his right hand to make the gentlest of contact with the side of Tenna’s head, just barely cupping it from underneath. Instinctively, Tenna flinched, an age-old fear resurfacing within him in an instant. But Spamton held fast, and once he saw that he wasn’t jerking his arm back in pain, Tenna gradually forced himself to relax.
And then, he leaned deep into his touch, a quiet sound akin to something like a whimper escaping him in response to the unfamiliar feeling. It almost hurt to see him like this, so desperate for the basic necessity of contact, especially with how sick and lonely he must be feeling. Even through the glove, Spamton could pick up on the heat radiating from him—physically separated by the barrier of the specialized material, but still undeniably intimate in nature.
That was all he could ever really ask for, it seemed.
“Looks like it’s working,” Spamton breathed.
“Y-yeah…” Tenna said, giving little more than a shaky nod.
At last, after what couldn’t have been more than half a minute but had felt like hours, Spamton pulled his hand away, though Tenna attempted to stay with his touch as long as possible.
“Right—can you lay on your stomach for me, Tenn? It’ll make it easier for me to reach things.”
“O-oh, sure,” Tenna replied eagerly. It took him a second to remove himself from underneath the covers, but once he’d rearranged himself, he was laying stomach-down on the bed, his head propped up by his arms crossed overtop a pillow.
Spamton hopped up onto the bed to join him, quickly settling down next to where his head was positioned. “Are you ready?”
Though his tail flicked nervously behind him, Tenna gave a single approving nod.
Stretching his arms out to crack his joints in preparation, Spamton leaned closer and, just as gently as before, took the ends of his antennas into his palms.
Immediately, Tenna’s body shuddered as his breath hitched once, then twice. Oh—oh god, he was about to cry, wasn’t he? Right away, Spamton let go.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“Snff… n-ndo, sorry, I just… can’t believe anyone would do this for me,” came Tenna’s wavering reply. “Everyone always avoids mbe when I’mb like this because they’re afraid of getting shocked…”
Spamton could feel his heart break into pieces. Oh, Cathode…
“Well, I’m not afraid of a little zap,” he declared. Then, with a wink, he added, “Heh… might even be kind of fun.”
Even from here, he could see the pixels of Tenna’s screen flash pink briefly, the color washing over the white pillowcase under him as he tucked his shoulders into himself. “Oh…! But, th-that won’t happen, right?”
“Nah.” Probably, anyway.
With that, Spamton resumed his prior intention, delicately grasping his partner’s antennas from the middle. Again, Tenna couldn’t help tensing up slightly at the sudden touch, but he otherwise remained still.
Spamton hesitated. He… didn’t actually know how to give the appendages a proper massage. They hadn’t had the chance for him to really learn yet. Ah, well—better to learn it on the job, I guess. How hard can it be?
Carefully, he started with a rhythmic, vertical rubbing motion, working his way ever so slowly up from the center feed point. As he did so, Spamton felt Tenna practically melt under his touch almost immediately, drawing out a deep sigh of relaxation.
But for as good as the stimulation must have felt, his body hadn’t forgotten about the excess electricity built up inside him. A few seconds in, and the sparks were visible again, coiling up his antennas like serpents on the hunt. But by some stroke of luck, Spamton couldn’t feel a thing—it seemed the gloves were more than sufficient to keep him safe from them.
Tenna, on the other hand, was definitely feeling it. His screen shuddered with static interference, and his next breaths hitched violently—not from the effort of holding back tears this time, Spamton suspected. His nose was twitching and flaring, undoubtedly battling the irritation that had returned with a vengeance.
“Hh… hahh—haH’ESCHIEWW!”
Tenna sniffled after the first one had successfully fought its way out, though it was already obvious how ineffective that was going to be. “Mmngh—Spam…? Tissues—”
“Whoops, just a sec, Cathode,” Spamton responded, briefly releasing his grip on his left antenna to reach over and grab the box of tissues off the nightstand.
The second they were within reach, Tenna grabbed one and let loose another set of three as the static transferred straight up against his nose, very quickly drenching the material and putting him out of breath. “Hht…! hih’TSSCHEWW!! hhEH’SSHHieww—! hHH’TSCHHuhh…! Hahh…”
“All good there, Tens?”
“Snnnff. Mhmm…”
Well, that was good enough for Spamton. Gently, he resumed his massaging motions, still focusing on the center poles. Tenna relaxed again, allowing him to work the soreness out of them with slow, deliberate pressure. At this point, Spamton could tell he wasn’t even trying to hold them up on his own anymore, too overcome by the feeling of relief washing over him.
As he moved up to begin working at the kinks in his antennas, a few more sparks of electricity arched angrily from them in response. With one hand pressing a barely intact tissue against his screen and the other desperately grasping at the bedsheets with his claws outstretched, Tenna was practically gasping for his next breath. “hHH—! heH’tSHHEWW—!”
Poor guy. On the one hand, the endless cycle of irritation from his own unique biology had to be a miserable existence. But, on the other, Spamton couldn’t help savoring the way Tenna was squirming underneath him, not to mention the way he could feel his breath hitch and his body shudder with release each and every time. In more ways than one, Tenna was at the mercy of Spamton’s delicate touch—something he was, perhaps, enjoying a little too much.
At last, he made his way up to the rounded tips of his antennas, taking them gently into his palms and changing to circular motions as though he were shining them. He still wasn’t sure whether this was what he was supposed to be doing, but it must have been good enough given that Tenna moaned softly beneath him whether he’d meant to or not. Spamton could feel his cheeks heat up in response—Tenna, the family-friendly face of TV Time, making that sort of sound behind closed doors?
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, and if Spamton got his way, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Eventually, as he finished dispelling the tension from the whole length of them, the static seemed to recede from his antennas, only giving off the slightest of crackles every now and then in place of full-on sparks. Tenna let out a deep sigh of relief, melting into the mattress all over again.
“Mmn… th-thank you…”
Spamton released his grip once more, backing off to give him the room to sit back up. Gradually, Tenna managed to lean against the backboard, propping himself up with a pillow behind his back. He looked exhausted, both his nose and screen were flushed pink, and he could hardly even sniffle with how congested he was after all that, but aside from those details, Spamton could tell that he was glowing a little more vibrantly than before.
Hell, even like this, Spamton could hardly take his eyes off him.
“’Course, Tenn. Just focus on getting some rest for now, okay? You should feel better in the morning.” After he’d said it, though, Spamton couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crossed his expression. “But, on the off chance that you don’t… we can always go for round two.”
Tenna stiffened slightly, the pink pixels darkening by one shade. As much as this cold had knocked him down, it was evidently hard to hide the excitement that phrase had brought him.
T/en/na coming down with something during a broadcast and pausing to sneeze into a handkerchief, but the excess buildup of static electricity that he gets when he's sick makes the cloth super staticky as soon as it touches his screen.
Cue the feeling of static right up against his nose making it itch even more and leading to a cycle of sneezing and irritation that only ends when the cloth is completely soaked and can't hold a charge anymore.
Ok so I ended up making a separate Ao3 account for the more blatantly fetishy stuff. Same name as the one here and I updated my pinned to reflect this change.
Kind of unfortunate because I wanted all of my sickfic content to be in one place originally, but I'm too afraid I'll scare people away from that first account and posting anonymously is inconvenient for everyone involved, sooo two accounts it is.
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Got an ask that motivated me to finally post this shit I started drawing back in November UGH
(I initially put it off bc I wanted to draw at least 2 more story beats but I Couldn't decide on the sketches/poses I liked, so I softlocked lol.. (unfortunately a running theme with me.. >.>" Maybe I'll add onto this later when I finish those.)
the ask is HERE but I'll just literally paste what I wrote there for ease of access lol
I had this idea where during the big shot era, Tenna ends up getting some kinda fucked up illness/injury, and while Spamton and Ramb are trying to figure out what’s wrong, he’s in a lot of pain and having fever hallucinations. They end up not being able to make any conclusions and eventually take him to the repair place at the wee hours of the morning.
And now Tenna’s half asleep, partially hallucinating mind is freaking the fuck out because he’s terrified of hospitals on top of all that. He's cold and scared and reality is warping around him and people are raising their voices near him and now he's being held down and poked at with sharp tools. >:)
Also! the blue stuff on Tenna in the second drawing is masking tape to hold his panel on so they don’t have to keep unscrewing and re-screwing it back on, because it hurts him and he probably doesn’t want the mechanic doing it again as soon as he’s on the table, especially more than they have to. (I explain this bc that was one of the story beats I wanted to draw so it was an important part of the 'comic' to communicate.)
Anyway I love the “late night impromptu visit to the hopital/repair shop in pajamas at 3am while the character is half-aware and Going Through It” trope :)
(ignore the fact that they're not wearing pjs lol)
cw: sneeze fetish content, character with the fetish, mess, allergy sneezing, inducing
additional cw: nsfw, explicit sex, wireplay, size play, size difference, oral sex, masturbation, other general freak sex stuff idk man
Summary: S/pamton is still sneezing. T/enna is still turned on. First there’s tension, and then they fuck about it.
Notes: I think the cws and description speak loudly enough, so I'll just say thank you for the patience while I was finishing this beast off :)
Fic Masterlist
Spamton tore him a new one. Something akin to shredding paper, like he'd flattened Tenna and thrown him into a set of grinding machinery.
He’d actually seemed cool and collected in the hall, and Tenna thought that maybe, maybe, he wouldn’t be mad after all.
It was all just a desperate facade though, he realized. A means of getting out of there as quickly as possible, away from curious eyes. No one dared to ask questions of the guy who seemed to have it all together, moving quickly to signal he had places to be.
And now, shut into the privacy of a dressing room, Spamton pacing, ranting, raving, Tenna accepted that his partner’s calm ended where that door had slammed loudly behind them.
He didn't take it well, being laid into. His current size reflected that, practically that of a guinea pig slumped sadly on the couch.
Spamton didn't seem to realize he was there anymore, actually. His shoes scraped out an erratic rhythm as he paced back and forth, tail feathers ruffled and sticking out at different angles.
“What are the [100% winning odds] that every piece of mail we opened had a personal vice to [killer deals] me? Who would ship that many [up and fresh as a daisy] bouquets to a studio in [discreet packaging]? And… ugh–!” His pacing hit a stuttering halt as he glanced down at his jacket. Several stains still donned the sleeves, saturated in such a way that the source was obvious. “Look at this! [Look with your special eyes]! I hope no one saw this! [!$&@]ing disgusting.”
In a haphazard motion, he all but tore the garment off. The red blazer was held out in front of him like a piece of roadkill, Spamton wrinkling his nose in disgust.
Without the built-in shoulder pads adorning him, his frame was far smaller, softer- but the contrast did nothing to put Tenna at ease.
His face alone could still scare anyone off. Every ounce of frustration etched there was enhanced further by the irritated patches lingering under his eyes, on his nose, along his cheeks.
“hyHH’SHIUEHhh–!” And he still kept sneezing. Openly and down at the floor, too blinded by rage to care about courtesy. Tenna wasn't sure when he last ever saw him so affected by an allergen, if ever.
“Snff. What was in that [#*%!]ing perfume? I oughta [permanently [ban it]] from studio grounds.” His blazer dropped to the floor in a sad puddle of red. That's when he suddenly saw Tenna, and really saw him, instead of seeing through him. The tiny TV man flinched, feeling hot and nervous under his dark eyes.
“And you. What [in the name of [Heaven]] got into you?” he spat. “I decide I've [hit the limit], barely able to speak without [suffering from allergies?], and how do I find my co-host? So [hot and heavy] he can't [click here to purchase]? On [live television]? Did somethin’ get [jumbled up] in that blockhead of yours?
Tenna managed to speak, “You said you were fine. Multiple times.”
“And!? I was [right as rain] then! But then you…! Ugh, do you have any idea how [negative 999 credit] we'd be if anyone saw that? We'd be [out on the [streets]]!” Spamton wildly waved his arms. His voice broke and glitched erratically, words tangling more and more unintelligibly into ad language.
Of course Tenna had an idea. It was all he could think about the entire time.
But it turned out fine. He really wanted to reiterate that to him- for as much as the embarrassment and distress of that moment still weighed on Tenna, it was fine. They got out of it without creating a scene. Or a big scene, anyways.
It really was a successful segment in the end, despite all the blooper worthy moments.
Then again, he wasn't the one who sneezed all over himself for all their viewers to see. And for however many ways they could both blame each other for that happening, there was no denying they both took the brunt of it this time.
Tenna bit his tongue, metaphorically and literally. Sometimes when Spamton got like this- completely unreasonable, that is- it really was better to let him shake it out of his system, uninterrupted. The times he did interject often turned into arguments, something Tenna did not have energy for right now.
“That was so humiliating… I mahhde, hih-! such a [$!&@]ing mess of mhih-! Hh…?” Spamton struggled to speak around the ever-persistent tingling, rearing its head for another interruption. “hh, hiHH–! hah…” But just when it seemed like he would buckle under its command, he pinched hard at his nose.
No, he would not be sneezing anymore, apparently.
Tenna winced. “Don't do that, Spam.”
“Dhhon’t tell me what to…hih, hhhwhat to–!” His chest spasmed wildly with another aching gasp denied any output. He crushed a fist up against his nose, rubbing fiercely at his flaring nostrils.
“You're gonna make it worse.”
“[Easy for yhou to s-say], hih-! I’m so sick of… Hhhsneeh-zing–!” His voice cracked terribly under the worsening congestion. It was almost hard to watch; Tenna felt his own nose tickle in sympathy. To still be so actively allergic despite the lack of allergens present… it would be impressive if it wasn't so concerning.
Spamton rolled his eyes, shook his head in yet another attempt to suppress the urge, but his body wasn't keen on obeying. “Hhfh, I can't… it's sohhH…! hHHH–!”
The loud, arching gasp that tore into his lungs was trapped as he pinched his nose shut. Not with one but both hands, clamped tight to the base. The sneezes spilled out unsatisfyingly all the same, as did tears from the corner of his eyes. “hegh’ktT—! Nhh’gtT—! heh-NGxXT—!” Spamton trembled as each sneeze squelched between his fingers. They allowed barely a breath between, and yet he continued to fight. His grip grew slicker as the sneezes turned wetter, more audible, more breathless. Nose and lungs begging for surrender, over and over, to no avail. His face flushed with the exertion.
”Spam…” Tenna murmured distantly. A fresh rush of heat lent itself down his spine, etching into the ache present between his legs.
Yes, he was still hard. Tenna shifted uncomfortably, tearing his conscience between a desire for Spamton to stop torturing himself and another, more selfish one for him to keep going…
Keep going, he did. Tenna counted at least twelve sneezes, and somewhere in the middle, Spamton doubled over, bracing one hand to his knee. “N’GTt–! hH’GHt–! eH’GXnt–!” A little louder, itchier, angrier with each sneeze. It seemed like it would never stop, that he’d turn blue and collapse before he’d allow himself to—
“hEDH’NGxtT’SHH—!” The first of the cracks in his resolve showed themselves, and they rapidly split wider. A burst of spray broke through his fingers, drenching his hand. Just rain before the imminent downpour.
Guard down, he gasped wholeheartedly for the next one, lightheaded and wheezing. “hEH’TSHHieyhh–! hiEH’SHHhiew—! Eh–! heH–! HH’SHHHIEuhh—!” The sound echoed off the walls. Wet, shiny evidence of the production further burst through his steepled hands, plainly visible for his audience of one.
Tenna's ears rang. He bit his lip, shifted his posture. “Bless you, Spam…”
Spamton just shook his head, blinking dizziness from his eyes. “Nnhn… save your breath.” His voice was hoarse. Nonchalant too, as though he hadn't just stubbornly caused this most recent catastrophe. Tears glazed his cheeks, and his cupid’s bow was wet and shiny in the light.
He looked utterly ruined again, and Tenna couldn't help but drink it into his memory like a fine wine.
The sound of water running filled the room as Spamton stood hunched over the sink, splashing and rubbing down his face. There was plenty of Kleenex around, but it simply wasn't enough at that point.
Perhaps the cold water managed to cool his demeanor too. Either that, or he'd sneezed his emotions back into stability. He plopped down on the couch next to Tenna with an air of apathy, with just enough energy to loosen his tie and unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt.
Nervous static sparked between Tenna’s antennae when he felt Spamton's eyes from above, gazing down on his much smaller form.
“Weird to be sitting taller than you, Tens.”
“Mm.”
A pause.
In the silence, Tenna thought back on the segment and flushed with guilt, realizing he hadn't given Spamton an ounce of the praise he deserved.
“Hey. You did good out there, ya know.” He wanted to use far bigger, better words. Fantastic, amazing, wonderful, something like that– but he couldn't summon the joy to punch them out.
Spamton shook his head. “You're just bein’ nice,” he said.
Tenna turned his head to look at him. “No, I mean it! I don't know a lot of folks who can manage under all that uh– pressure.” His knees pressed a little tighter to his chest.
He seemed to get through to him, a ghost of a smile gracing Spamton’s features. “Well… thanks, hot shot. It was pretty neat to be in the spotlight for once.” Something warm and sunny thrummed under his words, and Tenna hoped he could fully unearth it at another, better time.
He tilted his head down to look at Tenna, sniffling. “Ya don't have to be [down in the dumps] anymore, ya know.” No response. Then, “I'm sorry for… what I said. It wasn't all your fault.”
“It's okay,” Tenna said quickly, relieved to finally feel the tension break. His size remained small and meek, but his posture relaxed, legs shifting and settling more comfortably on the couch. “I should be taking some blame though.”
Spamton continued to stare at him, frown deepening. “Tenna, are you… are you still…?”
“Ack!” Tenna scrambled to hide the erection still present between his legs.
“Yeesh…” Spamton ran a hand over his face. “Okay, I have to ask– What has you so [XXX rated] today of all days?”
“W-well, um…” Tenna knew exactly how to answer, but the words got caught in his throat as he realized how absurd they would sound out loud. His tail flicked nervously across the leather upholstery beneath them.
Spamton turned his body, scrutinizing him even further. “What? Are you such a freak for praise that those letters [pressed your buttons]?” There was a playful smirk in his voice, and Tenna shivered in its wake.
He drew his knees back up to his chest again, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants. “No. I mean, yes, I liked that but not like that! It’s… it's you. You're the reason.”
Spamton smirked, then frowned, again. “Well that's not a shock, but… surely you could be a little more [on the nose]? You're not one to slip up on set like that.” His eye brows pinched tighter together. “There's gotta be somethin’ more you're [withholding] from me.”
Tenna flinched at his choice of words. On the nose, huh?
The hum of the fluorescents above grew louder as the silence lingered. He really, really wished Spamton would connect the dots on his own somehow and save him the embarrassment.
Except that it was the least obvious conclusion to gather. Why would anyone assume that to be the reason? Tenna swallowed dryly. He visualized it, ripping a bandaid off. Wincing, and then relief.
Okay.
“It's- your, um… when you sneeze like that, it's…” he trailed off and felt the choking weight of fresh silence.
And then Spamton broke it. “Right. Uh huh. Wait.” He blinked, and then blinked again. “You're… are you serious?” Tenna could only give the tiniest nod, and his voice took a gentler tone. “I… have you always…?”
“No! No.” Tenna’s display flushed a bright, pixelated pink. “Never in my life. With anyone. It's just, you… a lot of times when we have sex you end up…” It suddenly felt like a dirty word, sneezing. “I think I just- associate the way you looked and sounded with… that.”
“Sex?”
“Yes. And I couldn't stop thinking about it when we were sitting there and then… well… you saw what happened.” Tenna frowned as though grasping for words out of thin air. “You look… ravishing when you lose control.”
In his nervous rambling, Tenna hadn't noticed how Spamton now sat, legs curled under him on the couch, body fully turned to look down at him. Shirt open, the soft micro feathers smoothly lining his chest exposed. Above that, his tenderly pink nose, and his eyes… they held Tenna with such curiosity and he couldn't bear to maintain eye contact with him. It was overwhelming to be perceived in any capacity as it was right then, especially at his current size.
“Ravishing, huh?” Spamton echoed, amused. “Sounds like you've just got some of your [wires crossed]. Between sex and sneezing.”
Tenna briefly debated if that was actually physically possible, considering his anatomy… No, definitely not. Probably not. Most likely not.
He hoped not. How in hell would they explain that one to a mechanic?
… Tenna made a mental note to stop reading so deeply into Spamton’s phrasing.
He went on, “Okay. So you're all worked up by my sneezing. Not the weirdest thing I've ever heard of. You see all types of strange living in Cyber City. Snff.” He punctuated his words with a sharp, stuffy sniffle. And then he hitched.
Talk about timing. Suddenly Tenna felt Spamton's hand on his shoulder, dwarfing him in such a way he’d never experienced. Big. Heavy. Warm. So lovingly intrusive of his personal space.
“Fuck, not againhh- hehH–!” He felt Spamton’s touch carefully tighten, as though to steady him. “hhH’KTSCHhih–! heHH’TSCHIieh–!”
Tenna suppressed a shudder. It was enough before he'd admitted this strange, new development to him. Now though, with Spamton completely aware of what he was doing to him, while pressed so close? And… towering over him? Now Tenna did shudder, openly. There was very little that could make me feel more exposed at this point, next to literally stripping down naked.
And… as much as it made him want to hide, he couldn't deny the rush of excitement beaming underneath the adrenaline. It was dizzying, tearing him between an urge to grow and an urge to shrink even smaller.
“B-bless you,” he croaked.
Spamton emerged from his sleeve with a roll of his eyes, only to look down at Tenna with interest. “Snff. You weren't kidding.” He leaned in for a closer look, noting the pink pixels creeping across the display in ever saturating color. Hand still touching Tenna's shoulder, his thumb gently rubbed at his back. “You're warm.”
“Your fault,” Tenna shot back.
Sniffling again, Spamton bit his bottom lip. He glanced at the dressing room door and then back at Tenna. “We still have some [buy one, get one free] time…” His eyes darkened. “Want some [press F1 for help] with that?” He nodded down towards Tenna’s lap.
He didn't wait for an answer, hand moving to Tenna’s leg. His thumb ghosted over the lump in his pants.
Tenna instantly whined. “Please.”
The next thing he uttered was a noise of shock, as he was suddenly lifted. Tenna scrambled to anchor himself as the world around him moved, struggling to relax into the fingers cradling him.
“Not gonna drop you,” Spamton assured.
It was a few more seconds of disorientated squirming before Tenna settled into his hand, head resting against the tips of his fingers. His legs spread slightly apart where his palm sloped down to his wrist, further centering his weight into Spamton’s palm.
He looked down from his new, unusual perspective, and then back up.
Only about a foot away, Spamton’s gaze practically consumed him, and beneath that… The irritated patches that lingered beneath his eyes and around his nostrils had faded substantially, but up this close, they were plain to see. Tenna’s internal processing quickened.
He'd never felt so small. Literally and figuratively speaking.
“Now what should I do with you, hot shot?” The corners of Spamton’s mouth deepened as he smirked. “I could just [eat you up].”
Tenna flushed hotter as he considered the feasibility of that threat. He could. He literally could, if he wanted to. A twist of fear and excitement wound its way deeper into his core.
He was so caught up he didn't notice Spamton’s free hand closing in on him. His thumb started on his thigh first, rubbing over the dark leather of his pants. And then, without warning, he pressed down onto his crotch.
Tenna’s hips pushed up, back lifting into a sharp arch. One arm frantically hooked under Spamton’s pointer finger, and he clawed at the side of his hand, squirming, twisting. “Spam–tonnhh–!”
Tenna nearly cried. Only a single touch, but a touch so good it hurt. The aching, throbbing urge seated between his legs had only heightened in pressure the longer it had sat unattended. And now it was unraveling, finally unraveling. He could've come right then and there if he had any less self control.
Spamton’s thumb lightened the pressure and began stroking him, not unlike how he would his knuckle when they held hands. Tenna’s squirming only heightened in urgency, kicking his legs, thrusting into his touch.
“God, Tens…” Spamton let out a shaky breath of his own. He hadn't even undressed him, barely touched him, and he was all but literally melting into the palm of his hand. When he would pause, Tenna continued feverishly humping against the pad of his finger, whining.
Whenever Tenna was this size, it was normally a result of feeling lousy, ashamed, or scared. Glooby, in Tenna’s words. Sex didn’t fit into that picture. This was a rare opportunity, Tenna permitting him to hold power over him, not just psychologically but physically too. Tenna, the tall, overbearing star, reduced to a horny little toy in his hand.
Spamton swallowed, mouth dry. “Stay [reduced for quick sale] size for me, big guy. You'll break my wrist.”
“Nnhn, I'll t-try–!” Tenna replied, voice cracking. He could do it. He'd learned to have some sense of control over his fluctuating size, on account of numerous incidents where he'd broken Spamton's bed from growing too quickly. Not to mention that he was plainly too big for him to take otherwise.
Usually though, it wasn't on this level. It was never a battle to stay this small. Usually too, he wasn't this desperately worked up- scratch that, sometimes he wasn't this desperately worked up. The pleasure was already threatening to overtake him.
Spamton’s thumb drew a circular motion over his barely contained bulge. Tenna dug his heels into his wrist, gritted his teeth. His hips ground against the pad of his thumb, chasing the friction. Yes… yes… keep going…!
And then, right when he was falling into a feverish rhythm, he stopped.
“Spammy…!” Tenna whined, shameless. “Why'd you stop?”
“Patience, [cathode].” There was something unreadable in his expression. His free hand darted behind his back. Spamton winced before he revealed just what he was up to: one long, pristine, white feather, plucked from his own tail.
Tenna’s mouth wobbled around a nervous smile. “What're you… doing…?” Surely not. Surely he wasn't bold enough to–
“You're an entertainer. Give me a show.” His pupils dilated. “I want to see what this really does to you.”
“Wait, you don't- need to do th–!” Tenna all but choked as Spamton brought the feather to his nose.
He was frozen. “Well?” Spamton looked at him expectantly, smugly, only to falter. The feather lowered out of view. “Or… do you really not want–?”
“No! No, no, uh–” Tenna cursed the obvious enthusiasm in his voice. “G-go ahead. I'll just…” With shaking hands, he removed and tossed his gloves behind him before undoing his belt buckle. His cock sprung free as he shoved the fabric of his clothes down in one, smooth motion. It was twitching, swollen, drooling at the tip.
Above him, Spamton had tilted his head to the side, already brushing the feather down the generous length of his nose. Tenna stared, hypnotized. Back and forth, back and forth, but not in, not yet. Just teasing him. Heat puffed from the vents at the side of his head.
Only when Tenna gripped himself did Spamton act. The feather slipped into one nostril slowly, carefully. His gaze turned distant as he seemed to test the sensation, frowning, eyes flickering.
Tenna’s fingers trembled and pawed at the head of his cock, gathering lubrication, mesmerized by the way Spamton’s nostrils flared open around their intruder. Just one of many indications of the oncoming sneeze and all the sensations that came with that. Except now he could see it in its highest quality, up close, full screen. Consuming his attention. Anticipation tightened in his lungs.
It was when he twirled the feather, rapidly swiping the plumes over all sides of his nasal passages that he reacted more emphatically. Eyebrows drawing together, jaw slackening, expression tensing. Spamton’s other hand trembled dangerously underneath him, but Tenna barely reacted. “hh-hehH…! nhn…” His eyes rolled back as he twirled the tool again. “ihh, it's so… tihh-tickly…!”
Tenna bit his lip and groaned. Spamton shifted his head just so that it gave him a more exposed view of his shuddering nostrils. All the microscopic details of his changing expression were overwhelmingly obvious now. Every ounce of urgency, desperation, discomfort, completely and utterly displayed and exposed. It was so much. Too much.
And God, his voice…
“I'm gonnda… sndeeze, fuck—!” Spamton sharply titled his head up, lips parting with a deep, shuddering gasp. Heat flooded Tenna’s inner mechanisms, settling under his chest with a heavy, tingling weight. He curled in on himself further, bracing to be knocked down to the couch as Spamton's chest swelled to its fullest.
“Hh’YSCHIEHhh–!” A generous cloud of spray showered the air in front of him. Tenna gasped. His dick twitched in his hand, abdomen spasming with a white hot rush of arousal.
Spamton’s hand never quite stopped prodding the feather, and he was shortly hitching up, and up, and up again until– “EH’SHiehH–!” Tears welled on his lower lash line, and a soft pink color regathered on his cheeks.
Tenna’s monitor was pinker still, glowing a prominent fuchsia. For all the heat rapidly escaping through his vents, it was only barely enough for his body to keep up. He panted in short, labored breaths.
Spamton gasped out another labored breath of his own. “hHH–!”
Oh, he couldn't take it. Frantically, Tenna reached for his tie, all but choking himself as his fingers struggled to loosen it. He shakily worked down over the buttons of his shirt, flinching when Spamton let out another monstrous sneeze. His dick flinched in his other hand likewise.
“Hahhhh…” Finally. He couldn't open the panel just above his abdomen fast enough. Air hit his exposed wires with a cooling relief.
This wasn't just a means to cool him off, though. One hand still tending to his dick, the other dipped into the open cavity. His fingers lightly traced over the wires tangled within, and Tenna squirmed. It was a deep, internal sensation, almost ticklish in nature. But it blended in a perfect ecstasy with the traditional feelings seated a little lower on his body.
Another sneeze pitched Spamton foward. “hiEHH’SCHHihh–!” It was with increasing intensity that they ripped through him, each more desperate than the last. Tenna briefly entertained whether his earlier allergic encounter had left him extra sensitive. Clinging to a memory of pollen and perfume, something as soft and small as the plumes of a feather could wreak this kind of havoc on his still inflamed nasal passages. He did nothing in the slightest to stifle them either, and they responded by growing in violence, taking the full admission of relief they deserved. They were getting wetter too, a thin sheen of moisture clinging to his septum and philtrum.
“hiH-EHH’SHieuhh–! Fuck, sorry–” A hot, wet rush of air ran over Tenna. That sneeze was particularly sudden, and aimed a tad too close towards the hand he was cupped in. A few stray droplets caught Tenna’s display, as did a fine misting to his chest. He was unfazed, gripping only more enthusiastically at a cluster of wires. He squeezed down and tugged them, shuddering and moaning in response.
“Bless you, Spammy…” Tenna finally managed to say. Spamton paused the feather's torturous movements in his nose. A string of snot briefly connected it to his nose when he pulled it out, which he made a face at.
Far more pleasant was his expression upon looking down at Tenna, though. “Snff. Already pawing at your wires…? You're doing so well.” Tenna’s knees weakened at his praise. He tugged again at his wires, as he did his other hand to his dick. Another rush of tingling heat filtered through him, like stars shooting across the sky.
Spamton went on, “Shame I can't play with them… or maybe…?” Tenna squeaked in surprise when Spamton brought him up closer, adjusting his hand under him again. He was knocked onto his side, abdomen settling right next to his thumb. He'd nearly readjusted and rolled onto his back, before it was made very clear that this was where Spamton wanted him.
“S-Spam–oh, my—!” Tenna could barely speak. Spamton’s thumb pressed into the open cavity, pushing his wires inward with one, centered pressure. It was a different sensation than he was used to, and it was marvelous. Electric ecstasy sprinted into every corner of his body, ebbing in repetitive waves as Spamton gently shifted the pad of his thumb.
“Did I hit a nerve, [cathode]?”
Tenna nearly bit him- what a stupid question. He was certain his body language said more than enough. Yes, he was hitting a nerve. Many of them, all of them, and Tenna couldn't help but writhe and kick his legs as the feeling rushed through him over and over. The arm pinned next to his side continued its fevered stroking, heat pooling in his lower belly with a heavy weight.
“hih…! hhH, hHH–!” If all that wasn't enough, the feather had returned to its assault. Tenna groaned out his anticipation, dizzy. There wasn't an embarrassed or ashamed nerve left in him. Everything was all pleasure, numbly tingling and firing off with a certainty this would make him cum.
Tenna twisted his head just enough to get a look, right as Spamton took a final gasp. “hehhH–!” It was a beautiful sight to be greeted with. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw slackened, reddened nostrils gaping– and the feather, lodged and quivering deep inside. On the very edge of subverting control, all while he managed to hold it over Tenna.
“heH’ght-! HEH’Nkgt-! heh, fuckhhh’GNXT–!” His head bobbed with dizzying repetition. Each sneeze opened with a loud vocalization which he swallowed and crushed into a stifled release. Again, and again, and again. The feather remained inside, continuing to poke and prod the most sensitive areas inside his nose– ultimately ensuring he would have a massive, nonstop fit.
Was he trying to kill him? Because Tenna was quite certain he might die.
His thumb stuttered its pressure into Tenna’s open wire cavity as he lost himself in the ongoing tickle. “Hohh, God–!” A string of curse words sputtered from Tenna’s mouth. His vision flickered as the energy rushing through him increased tenfold. Too much. Too much. The hand which currently held a vice grip to the tip of Spamton’s pointer finger fervently grabbed at his antenna, pulling them down over his display. He yanked hard and bared his fangs. Something had to give.
“Hhhhcan’t- stop–! hiH’GHTt–! heHH–GSHht—!”
Spamton's voice reached a higher, desperate pitch. Tenna’s body felt hotter, tighter, too tight. Like pressure, pushing in on every inch of his body, as if his skin itself had become a prison. He couldn't contain it at this size. The growing pleasure, tension, heat. He would never last, not like this. This orgasm simply needed a bigger body to hold it.
Static broke out in glitchy display on Tenna’s monitor. “Spam, you gotta– stop, I can't–!”
He managed to hear him, between sneezes. “Nhhg’TSHiew–! H-hhold on, hih…!” Moisture burst down onto his cupid’s bow. Tenna exclaimed surprise as he was suddenly tucked against Spamton’s chest, warm, soft. He could hear the Addison's heart beat, a rapid rhythm, before a stuttering breath drowned it out. “hh–! hehhHh–!” Tenna curled in on himself as his chest expanded against him, clutching at the soft feathers.
“heHH–EH’SHIUEHHh–!” The sound rang in Tenna’s ears. He winced despite his arousal- that one definitely tore at his throat.
And then it was quiet.
Tenna twisted in Spamton's hand, peering through the gap between his fingers to see the aftermath. And boy, there was quite an aftermath.
Spamton’s other hand was glazed with spray. The feather lay on the leather upholstery, finally dislodged and positively drenched. Snot hung from under his nose where he had hunched forward, and Spamton hastily grabbed the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pressing it to his face.
“Ghhh…fuck mbe…” He exhaled a muffled, congested sigh into the fabric. Tenna could only hear his own breathlessness now, drowning out even Spamton’s heartbeat against him. His sense of self was coming back to him, but only just barely.
The dark warmth melted into bright light as Spamton pulled him away from his chest. “Snff. Too extrembe?” Oh, that congestion. For all the fluid leaking out of him, he sounded more blocked than ever.
“Yes. You gotta put me down,” Tenna huffed.
“Shambe. I’mb just getti’d used to this view.” One finger teasingly stroked down the side of Tenna’s head. “Ow!”
Tenna lingered his teeth on one finger. “Don't you dare get used to this.”
Though he glared at him, Spamton did as requested and settled him onto the seat of the couch. He stood, wiping again at his nose and face with his shirt. He was particularly hard on the nostril that had taken the brunt of the feather, knuckling it aggressively through the fabric. If he was truly as uncomfortable as he looked and sounded though, he didn't say so.
He did surrender in retrieving a tissue, which he noisily emptied his sinuses into. The sound was atrocious and productive, but his eyes only showed relief, another fuck mbe mumbled into the fabric. After tossing it into the wastebin, his dress shirt was tossed too, down to join his equally soiled blazer on the tile floor.
Two straps of fabric stretched across under his chest, which Spamton skillfully unclipped. The small pair of wings jutting from his shoulders gave a trembling stretch, flexing freedom of their bindings. This wasn't an uncommon garment for his species, as it was the easiest way to comfortably wear most attire without investing in wing-accommodating alterations.
Tenna eyed him hungrily from his spot on the couch. He let his vision slowly trail down, from his collar bone, to his feathered chest, to the soft curve of where his waist widened to his hips. Tenna flexed his hands, fingers alight with the urge to touch him.
That urge heightened tenfold when he saw Spamton’s hand dipping into his unbuttoned pants. His belt buckle clinked as he shifted the waistband of his briefs.
“Mmn…” Spamton hummed a note of pleasure as his hand dipped deeper. His wings were notably stiff where they stretched from his back, yet another indication that he was thoroughly aroused. Despite the discomfort it required, he still enjoyed it? Indulging him like this? Tenna whined, hips shivering as he ruminated on where he'd rather bury his dick, if he were of proper size.
Spamton approached the couch, bending one knee to rest it on the leather. Tenna gazed up, feeling smaller still as the Addison loomed over him.
“Take your pants [50% off].” Tenna was already halfway there. He hastily shimmied the garments the rest of the way off, and Spamton tossed them aside.
“Hey–!” Tenna yelped as his arms were suddenly pinned above his head. It only took one hand for Spamton to do it, the other still preoccupied between his own legs. Instinctively, Tenna struggled against him, but he was quick to give in. A fresh wave of heat puffed from his vents.
His attention swapped between Spamton's crotch and his smug face, seemingly aware of just how hard this was to idly watch. “C’monnnn, don't leave me hanging now…” Tenna whined. His hips pushed up again, cock visibly twitching. “Please?”
“That's what I wanted to hear. Good boy,” Spamton huffed. He lowered himself even closer, changing positions so that he was kneeled before the couch. His lips hovered above Tenna’s sex, warm breath washing over his flesh and exposed wires.
He'd grown a bit since Spamton had put him down. Not significantly, considering how effortlessly his arms were currently locked above his head. But it was enough for–
“Ohhh, Spammy!” Back arching, his hands twisted and trembled under Spamton's hold. Carefully, his mouth had enveloped him in a warm, wet seal. Spamton’s tongue dwarfed his length, yet he could vividly feel it, sweeping methodically over him and toying at his sensitive tip.
Tenna’s legs squirmed around of their own accord, nearly kicking Spamton in the jaw. His struggles became more desperate as his mouth continued to tease around him, and yet he remained utterly helpless to do little more than just take it. He could never have experienced such blatant, forced submission at his regular size. Oh, what an exhilarating feeling…!
Rhythmic waves of heat rolled through his body. Tension melted from his limbs as he allowed himself to grow another size, matching pace with his heightening pleasure. Spamton noticed, and he paused his oral endeavors. Tenna made a noise of surprise when he found his hands were freed.
“I suppose you need those to play with your wires.” His tone of voice pushed not a suggestion, but an order. Tenna gave a wobbly smile, feasting again in Spamton’s desire to control him. However, it was not just gleeful obedience that motivated his hands back into his open wire cavity; there was a hunger still lingering within him for the orgasm he had to shy away from earlier, and this time he intended to have it.
Tingling static built and rushed out from his core, trickling down through all of his limbs. Tenna flushed and then groaned, only faintly aware as he grew bigger yet. Spamton pinned one of his legs and took him again with his mouth, hot, wet, persistent. God, his cock ached.
Still multitasking with his own pleasure, Spamton hummed happily around him, sending tantalizing vibrations all along his sex. The heat in his lower belly tightened tighter, and then tighter still. Tenna feverishly tugged at his wires, not at all in the tidy way Spamton would. It was sloppy, distracted, but nonetheless effective. It felt good, too good.
“Hahh, Spam, you're… so good to me–!” Static broke out across his display as his voice cracked. “Careful, I… I'm close–!” Tenna could barely speak around his own panting, heavy breaths, nearly delirious as all the sensations running through him threatened to reach their peak. Hotter, harder, faster. He trembled. Everything culminated to one, high point of ecstasy.
Tenna’s hand cramped and jolted as he tugged a bundle of wires in a final, desperate pull. Spamton was forced to sit further back, still loyally stroking him even as he literally grew inside his mouth. It all hit him at once, finally, finally, and Tenna fell over the edge with a shattering impact.
Everything was white, briefly. He wasn't sure which way was left or right, up or down. He could only shudder, back arched, hands gripping so tightly to the edge of the couch that he might tear the leather with his claws.
Static still faintly flickered across his display as he came back to reality. Relief and euphoria washed over him in dizzying waves, and his hands balled into fists with an effort to ground himself. “Nnhn… Spammy…” Tenna slumped into the couch, head resting against the star-patterned wall at his default, 15-foot size.
Spamton still sat on his knees in front of him, below him now rather than above. Face, neck, chest adorned with his seed too, Tenna realized with an erotic twinge.
“You gonna [make it], big guy?” Spamton asked cheekily.
“Barely…” Tenna answered breathlessly. His monitor flickered again, much in the way someone would blink dazedly. “That was so… fuck, that was so…” There were no words for it. Tenna just laughed, gently.
Spamton finally crawled up onto the seat of the couch, soft hands feeling up his arm. “Glad I could [help you out]. Your head should be clear enough to handle the rest of today now, ndo?”
The congestion still leaking into his words didn't go unnoticed. Tenna tilted his monitor to point his nose down at him. “Is your head clear enough?” he asked between heavy breaths.
Spamton rolled his eyes. “You'd thingk it would be by ndow.”
Tenna felt a sense of self consciousness tug at his chest. Had circumstances been different, he would easily have reached his peak at the initial point he wanted to. Because of his sneezing, among other things that were simply a bonus.
What the hell was that about, anyway?
And why was the thought of it still so…erotic?
He wondered what Spamton would say when he learned that this might not be a one-time freak occurrence, after all.
…Better not to entertain that. He didn't have time to spiral about it. Not right now, anyways.
Tenna briefly eyed the clock. There was plenty of time before they needed to piece themselves together, however.
Still relishing in the afterglow of his orgasm, Tenna brought a hand to Spamton’s head, big fingers running through his dark hair. It was considerably messy now, compared to how neatly he’d styled it this morning. He muttered something about taking Benadryl, and how he'd rather not.
His wings twitched. They were still quite stiff, Tenna noted as he brushed his hand down over the base of the appendages.
“You know what might help?”
“Hm?”
Tenna didn't answer, and instead pulled him close by the small of his back. Spamton nearly fell into his chest, forced to adjust one leg which left him straddling Tenna’s thigh.
“Nothing like a good orgasm to clear your head,” he finally said. “Sinuses too.”
Spamton raised a brow at the suggestion, but he bit his lip, smiled. His hips settled down onto Tenna’s leg, and he rocked against him.
“How convenient that I could really go for one right now,” Spamton said. His wings flexed wider for balance as he grinded against his thigh more earnestly. “This should [work smarter, not harder] just fine,” he added, breathier.
Tenna flashed a big, stupid grin. Another rush of euphoria coursed through Tenna’s body, from the very bottoms of his feet, all the way through his limbs and up to his very nose. He felt a faint tingling there before… pop!
A flower spontaneously opened at the tip of his nose. Tenna blushed.
And Spamton… so caught up in pleasuring himself, didn't see it happen. The resulting pollen made itself known very quickly though, and he could barely flash a look of alarm before his expression collapsed.