#mozy stuff

[you-are-hawtchew]

Handing a handkerchief to someone on the cusp of a sneeze.

[you-are-hawtchew]

A stares with wide eyes at B, chapped lips tightly pressed together.

"A, I just want take your temperature."

The tiny glass instrument is held between their thumb and forefinger, the shiny metal tip pressing against their lower lip. The shiver that runs down A's back isn't because of the fever. Their body is tense, frozen in place.

B frows, tapping the tip agsinst A's lip. Their hands rubs at A's shoulder, and they don't realize just how close their knee is to A's crotch. It's taking everything in A's power to not whimper and grind their hips against B.

"Come now," another pang of heat travels down their body, and they twitch when B's hand caresses their cheek,continuing in a soft worried voice, "you don't want to stay sick do you?"

If A had any say in it, yes they would very much like to stay like that, if only B knew just how horribly turned on they are by B's treatment of them. They gather the courage to do, lips parting, but B takes firm hold of their lower jaw, and slides the tip of the thermometer under their tongue. They place a firm hand to the back of A's neck and use their knuckles to prompt their wide eyed patient to close their mouth.

"Good, keep it there," the command has their thighs shaking, and a whine breaks free from their throat. The thermometer's smooth, slowly heating tip pokes under their tongue, lodged firmly in the spot to inevietably tell B just how ill A is. And unknowingly to them, just how hot they make A feel.

A lets themself be pushed back against the pillows, lips clamping tightly around the thermometer, teeth clinking against the glass when B brushes their hands over A's sweaty forehead, and presses a kiss to the side of their irritated nose.

"You poor thing," they tut, and A has a moment where they don't know if B truly doesn't know what they're doing to them.

[you-are-hawtchew]

Rushing a guest inside from the downpour, helping him undress from the heavy drenched coat. He sways in place reassuring that "Everything is fine," addressing the host with utmost respect, even as he clearly struggles to stay standing. He barely has time to step back and lift his arm as his poor nose can't wait any longer. The sneeze is much louder than either anticipated, and with a sniffle and an attempt to sweep the embarrasment under the rug, the man smiles and clears his throat, only for his words to comeout with a painful croak. His gloved hands rub at his swollen throat, brow furrowed. The host takes a hold of the man's hands and removes the drenched gloves. He man's fingers curl at the lack of covering.

"Come now," the host says, guiding the flustered guest to the room they've prepared for him; it's warm both in light and temperature. It sets off the poor man's nose again, however this time he manages to muffle it more effectively.

"Bless you," the host says, and offers the man a hankerchief. "Make yourself comfortable while I draw you a bath. Any preferrences?"

It takes the man a moment too long to realize that the question was aimed at him, and just as he's about to reply, he snaps forward nose and mouth burried into the soft hankerchief.

"Bless you," the host says and repeats for the man to wait just a little while longer. A croaked thank you, and an attempt to offer apologies is cut off by another harsh sneeze that scrapes at his throat.

That damned weather.

[you-are-hawtchew]

pov: me wanting to have my guts rearranged for a week straight every single month like clockwork

[you-are-hawtchew]

The urge to cradle a feverish face in cool hands, tilting it upwards so the tired, dazed look of misery can be seen and coo at the poor sick darling/bastard, planting a kiss to their forehead. Maybe even on the bridge of their nose.

[you-are-hawtchew]

Sneezes that make the person bend in half with the force of them. The kind of powerful sneezes that make them feel their heartbeat in their temples, make their vision blurry and leave them to sink further into their blanket

[you-are-hawtchew]

Giant sickie/tiny caretaker

"Oh honey, just let yourself sneeze."

He's been trying to quell the buildups, his chest heaving, head rearing back with each desperate loud hitch. The grip on the beach towel that served as a somewhat decent tissue turned his knuckles white, and his body quivered with restraint.

Few shaky, unsure, climbing hitches, and he exhaled through his mouth, breathing ragged. He coughed into the towel, shoulders sagging.

Their brow furrowed as they stared up at him. "Why do you keep doing this? You need to let this get out of your system."

He swallowed hard, caught between trying to sniffle or wipe his nose without setting off another battle with his body. Doing neither, he simply turned his tired eyes down to his partner, managing a barely understandable, scratchy defense for his behaviour.

" 'm too loud. Hu- hn! Hhhuh!-" his breaths drew quicker, huge broad shoulders shaking, before he managed to hold his breath and let out a pitifully weak exhale, whole body shivering with it. "hurts."

They understood him. The cave walls shook with the strenght of his sneezes. The first time it happened they were caught off guard and fell off a rock, with their hearing lost for half day. The second time they were ready, and still nearly got crushed under the falling rock. Not to mention the dust really set off his nose, and their friend back in the valley said that it seemed like someone was testing the cannons for the tourist season.

No, unfortunately, their giant partner simply had an incredibly weak immune system.

"I know hun. And before you try to insist I leave again, no, not when you're like this," they started climbing the rock he was leaning against, stoping near his shoulder. His poor nose was practically swollen and they could almost hear the headache stabbing at his brain. His temples looked like they were throbbing, which proved to be correct when they placed their hand against them. He groaned and his shoulders shook again with his restrained, shaky breath.

"If you don't let them out yourself, I will." they whispered into his ear, hearing his teeth chatter. Turns out they didn't need to do so.

A drop of cold water driped down a stalactite and splashed on the very tip of his nose. It couldn't have been bigger than their finger, and yet he recoiled back as if he was splashed in the face, and his head reared back, mouth gaping. A deep breath, a hitch, an even louder hitch. They barely had time to scramble back onto the rock and shove the construction headphones and helmet over their ears before his body slammed forward, the loud "HETSHEEH!" echoing through the cavern. The towel didn't stand a chance, it was useless 5 minutes after his fit began, torn to strips from the force of his sneezes.

His nostrils seemed to only widen with each sneeze that was finally released. They twitched, quivered when he managed to take in rapid quick breaths, trying to form words or get out an apology, before his face contorted into a painful grimace and his head snapped forward again, and again, and again.

They could only watch his misery for so long, before their body began to hurt from the vibrations. They quickly made their way off the rock when he tried to get his breathing under control, and fell flat on the ass when they reached the shaking ground. Crawling over to their safe spot, they nearly kissed the padded ground absorbing some of the force, and prepared themself to wait out this fit.

They buisied themself by sorting through the other towels, checking which ones were the softest and inspecting them throughly for any dust or pollen or a stray hair that could cause a catastrophic repeat of a fit. Their other supplies - the squeaky clean wheelbarrow for easier moving of supplies, the huge barrels of dried herbs, oils and crates upon crates of highly concentrted anti-inflammatory creams and many other items - were all counted and prepared.

They grew quite worried when his fit lasted nearly an hour. His voice gave out about half way in, so nothing else was making noise but the air shooting out of him, followed by wheezing and the crumbling and rumbling of rocks around them. They moved to remove their headphones, but thought better of it when he reared back again with a pained expression, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Returning back to safety, they flung two of the towels into the wheelbarrow, and moved to the canisters with clear distilled water, dousing the towels throughly.

The ground stopped shaking and they peeked out. His body shook with tremors, head lowered to his chest. His hand moved to swipe at the underside of his poor nose, and instead fell away before it could make contact. His puffy eyes turned in their direction, and they mustered a smile. Wheeling the barrel out, and then going back for a box of soft, dry towels, they looked up at him. They slowly removed their head gear.

"Come on big guy, lay down for me?"

His hands and body shook as he tried to slowly change from sitting to laying down, a few week gushes of air being forced out of his aching lungs. They wrung the towels and moved closer, wiping gently at his still pulsing nose. They kissed one of his tear stained cheeks after cleaning most of the salt, heart almost breaking at the pained hiccup and the way his body curled inward.

"You did great hun, you'll get better so much sooner now. You'll see."

They gently dried his chapped nose and slathered it with creams to help with the irritation while murrmurin praise and reassurances. By the time they were done, he was drifting in and out of sleep.

In hindsight, it would be better if he managed to move onto his cot right away. But then again, they can leave him to rest for a little. The poor man more than deserves it.

[you-are-hawtchew]

Having a sub topping you, quivering breaths and high pitched hitching with whines and shuddering exhales. You get to see his pretty face flushed, tears threatening to slip down his cheeks. You take a hold of the leash and tug gently, his breathing stuttering with another lost sneeze.

"Move."

His whole body shakes as he starts to unevenly thrust inside of you. You can see the hitching lessened and instead his lips are quivering, nostrils twitching at the tickle somewhere in the front of his nose. A touch on the very tip could set him off. The hand not holding his leash remains behind your head instead and you moan praises when he picks up the pace. His breath hitches, and with a yell his sneeze finally wrenches itself out of him as he cums, followed by another booming one, and two more, one so close to the other that he can't even catch his breath. He crumples on his hands and his hot forehead presses into your skin, his nose exploding against you as you gather him into your arms. His hitching, quivering breaths, gasps for air when he is granted a moment by his body, a sniffle and he's back again, sneezing so forcefully his whole body shakes. You wrap him closer into your arms, rocking on his once again hardening cock, pressing a soft kiss to his tear stained cheek and whispering to him what a good boy he is.