#sneeze fic

[suddencolds]

Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early. 

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.” 

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside. 

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A  Y: you need anything else? 

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door 

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum. 

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise. 

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work. 

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside. 

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough. 

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom. 

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take. 

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that. 

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so #please take this for now 🙏 #my fic #it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T #i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future! #yvverse #ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two 😭😭 and i hope it's #okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!

[noses-in-winter]

Hey, She Has To Wake Up, Anyway (18+)(F sneeze, F/M, tickling into sneezing awake, foreplay)

These characters are Lor Sheldon, awkward nonbinary guy who is terminally horny, especially about noses and everything they can do! He has a hard time not feeling shy about that. He's extremely bisexual and gives off that energy, don't worry. I've written about him here and here. Feat. his total soulmate Piper (who I just wrote about here!) who is also terminally horny and is SO pumped about getting Lor to explore his kinks. They're both mid-30s in this which is when they're peak obsessed with each other.

In this fic, Lor wakes Piper up from a nap by making her sneeze (it's cool, they've talked about this, she's into it). Lot of detail about how he's touching her nostrils and stuff. Went kinda wild there.

please don't reblog to non-sneeze blogs, minors do not follow or interact THANKS

She had encouraged him more than enough times for Lor to believe that Piper meant it when she said she would be happy to…indulge him, with anything he wanted to do regarding her nose, and the fantasies he had associated with it. Christ, he had a lot of fantasies. Thank fuck he hadn’t divulged them all the last time they were stoned together. Even so, Lor still cringed at the fuzzy memory of spilling such an intimate detail of his life. Willingly! No gun to his temple or anything! 

God, he told her so…so…so much about it. “It” being sneezing. How it made him feel…something. Especially about her…something. And sometimes his…something, if he was being honest, but that was not a something that Lawrence Sheldon was willing to face. 

 Her positive response to his confession was damn near intoxicating, though. Piper had been so…supportive. Happy, even. Cradling his face with one hand and using the other to lace her fingers with his. 

She’d made a few changes since then that would seem uneventful to the man who found these actions completely vanilla. Lor didn’t have the courage to comment yet but, Jesus, did he notice. He noticed how she evidently skipped her bottle of daily antihistamines once or two mornings a week. Piper’s allergies didn’t knock her down the way Lor’s could unmedicated, but she still sneezed more often with heightened intensity. She also started to let her voice go a little high as she was gearing up for a sneeze in a way that made his dick so fucking hard--

Shit, shit, he needed to cool it. Piper still slept soundly with her head in his lap. The last thing he needed was for his needy cock to stir her. 

They’d had a few conversations on the topic since then. None that lasted long, before Lor felt too shy to continue. Piper never rushed him. She simply made sure he always knew that she was 100% ready whenever he wanted to explore this fascination together. 

“Surprise me, Sheldon. I’m up for anything. You’re in charge.” 

Woah, fuck, why did that turn him on so much every time he remembered it? 

Piper would answer favorably if he were able to ask her permission. No doubt in his mind about it. There would be zero hesitation. So it would be…okay, right? To just do it? 

He swallowed, the light of the television casting shadows around the room. He had to get Piper’s head out of his lap, anyway, right? She never wanted to stay on the couch too long after falling asleep. They both always seemed to sleep better when they drifted off in each other’s arms in bed. They woke up apart, reliably, but that much-needed intimacy while fading into sleep was…also intoxicating. Still foreign to the both of them, certainly, but also welcoming and comfortable. Safe. Loving. Home.

Yeah. Yeah, she’d want him to make a move. 

Lor took a deep breath before beginning.

He started by lightly setting an index finger on her pointed nose. Piper simply continued to breathe in and out steadily as she lay facing the television. With a little more pressure, her nose started to scrunch. Piper sniffed once, nestling her temple into his thigh. Fuck, she was cute.

Lor swallowed, watching to see if she was stirring awake. Weed typically turned her into a pretty deep sleeper, but he was too paranoid not to check. Once Lor was satisfied with the low rumble of her snore, he continued. 

He rubbed the tip of her nose in small, slow circles. Fuck, okay, he was already sweaty just watching the way her nostrils moved with the teasing little pushes. He added a touch more pressure when Piper seemed unbothered. Hmm. Okay. Rubbing wasn’t all that effective, was it? Maybe…something else? External?

Lor glanced around at his surroundings before his eyes settled on the down blanket draped over Piper’s sleeping form. Perfect. He already saw the quill of a feather waiting to be pulled out of one slight snag in the fabric.

Lor pinched the quill and eased it out of the pillow. Ohhhkay, it was lengthy and perfectly fluffy. His stomach gave a flustered little flip at the sheer mental image of each delicate little tuft brushing against the equally delicate inner walls of Piper’s--

Hoooooo, fuck. Focus on the mission, Sheldon.

 After tracing around Piper’s nostrils a few times, Lor watched carefully to gauge a reaction. Again, she mostly sniffled and scrunched her nose. It wasn’t until he took a deep breath and managed to ease the feather into her nose that Piper’s nostrils flared in response to the stroke of afterfeather. Oh. Not only did her nostrils flare, they goddamn quivered. 

Piper sniffled sharply. Made a little noise in the back of her throat. Her hand moved. Lor pulled the feather out of her nose just before Piper could knuckle at her nostrils. He supposed the way the feather brushed the walls of her nose on the way out wasn’t helping things, judging by the little snag of her breath. 

She grumbled, now half-asleep as she rubbed at her nose. It didn’t seem like Piper was aware of Lor’s intervention, but he held his breath, anyway. 

Piper’s lashes fluttered, but she didn’t fully open her eyes in the light of the television. She stopped scrubbing so aggressively at her nose, but the back of her hand now lingered a few inches before her face. She sniffled with mounting congestion, nostrils now a quivering pink. She breathed in slow, sleepy pants. 

He tried again. Piper reacted sooner this time, almost the exact moment that the tender feather stroked at her septum. One nostril scrunched with a snort as she murmured wordlessly. Piper pressed the back of her hand to the underside of her nose, scrubbing and scrubbing until Lor heard a truly shiver-worthy squelch. When she lowered her arm, there was a streak of dampness on the back of her hand. Lor fought an eager little squirm at the very vision. 

Gauging how far he could go this time, Lor once more considered his options as Piper settled again. Even as she rested comfortably beneath the quilt, her nostrils still scrunched and spasmed with sniffly breaths. 

….Huh. 

He moved slowly, carefully, to give Piper’s nostrils a light pinch with his thumb and index finger. Lor’s stomach dropped pleasantly, as if he were on the best roller coaster of his life, when Piper’s nostrils fought to flare against his fingertips. He didn’t budge. She took in a truly nostril-quaking sniffle in response, eyebrows beginning to knit together.

Nostril-quaking. Jesus, he was going to have to incorporate that one into his internal Horny Lexicon. 

Piper’s breath finally started to snag, now that her nostrils weren’t allowed to squirm out of her control. That tickle progressed rapidly before his eyes.

This was the greatest idea of his life. 

Lor eased his fingers off of Piper’s reddened nostrils. They immediately widened, taking up as much space as they could. Though her nostrils had as much freedom to quiver as possible, the damage had been done. Lor watched for several beats, waiting until the perfect moment to give the underside of Piper’s nose one slooooow stroke with the feather.

That pushed her over the edge. She convulsed with a sneeze covered by nothing but the back of her hand at a distance. Piper’s head bounced slightly in Lor’s lap as her whole body shuddered, buckling into itself. “Hed’DTSCHH’ooh!!”

Lor’s stomach flipped at the vision of a fine mist bursting from her urged nose. Jesus, he could write an entire thesis on the way the sheer strength of that sneeze was increased by her nose’s initial resistance alone. Piper took in one gulping breath before sneezing again, completely uncovered this time, nostrils shuddering out another expulsion of mist. 

Piper let out the littlest moan of relief after that second sneeze tumbled out of her. She fanned lazily beneath her nose, using the same hand that she had just sneezed against. Piper sniffled and finally opened her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the television for several moments before she sneezed again, taunted by the glow of the screen. “Addh’DTSHH! Hh…hh! HuhHHD’schoo!”

“Bless you…” Lor said quietly, cheeks burning. He could lean over to the end table to grab the box of tissues, but the thought didn’t even occur to him. At the moment, he was nothing but thoroughly enchanted with the way Piper’s nose just…moved. When she sneezed. When she was gearing up for or recovering from a sneeze. When she was just relaxed enough with him to be so comfortable with letting her nose control her for a moment. 

Piper didn’t say anything straight away. She started to ease up from her place on the couch, letting out one uncovered sneeze halfway through the process. F-Fuck, the mist of that sneeze in the light of the television was mesmerizing, wasn’t it? 

Piper took in two rapid, gambling hitches as another sneeze crept up on her. Oh. Oh, she just wasn’t stopping. This time, Piper was able to yank the collar of her shirt over her nose. She kept herself steady with one arm on the couch, but was promptly knocked off-kilter when she sneezed damply into her shirt. Lor wrapped both arms around Piper’s torso, keeping her as steady as possible. He leaned back into the couch, bringing Piper with him. 

“Bless you,” Lor breathed, blinking at Piper in a lovestruck gaze. Feelings of affection and attraction flooded him as Lor dipped his head to set a kiss in Piper’s hair. “A lot. You okay, babe?”

“Mmm..sdf! Fuck, sorry…” she exhaled, finally managing to sit up fully on the couch. Lor dutifully let her go. Piper started to blink slowly, adjusting her eyes to the light. “Didn’t mean to sneeze like a spray bottle there. Jesus, I really needed that, though. My nose f-feels---sdf, ugh, I dunno…itchy….”

“I-It’s okay,” he answered too quickly. Lor gulped and fumbled for the tissue box on the table. “I don’t mind. I mean, you know I don’t, but…y’know.” 

Piper nodded, rubbing lazily beneath her nose. She seemed to be flaring her nostrils consciously, as if testing if there was another sneeze hidden anywhere. “Yeah, I do. I dunno, I dreamed something was…in my nose? And it tickled like a motherfuck, like a-...” 

She trailed off. Lor followed Piper’s gaze until it reached the feather that sat in his lap. Lor was quiet for several seconds before a low chuckle rumbled in Piper’s chest. She gave him a knowing little smirk as she reached for him. 

“Shel. You beautiful slut. Did you…?”

He felt like he was shrinking beneath her gaze. Lor gulped and glanced away, shame flooding every inch of him. “Um. I-I’m sorry. It was…”

“Hey, hey. Don’t be,” Piper hummed, reaching for him with ease. “That’s hot. Seriously. No idea you had it in you, Sheldon.” She snorted with laughter. This, apparently, stirred another tickle in her. Piper sniffled sharply, reaching to pinch at the freckled bridge of her nose. She massaged up and down. “Hoh, fuck. It’s right there.” Piper eased her free hand down to his thigh, delivering a squeeze to it. Her other hand continued to rub up and down the side of her nose with steady care.  

“...C-Can I help you?” Lor asked on a nervous breath. 

She gave him a slow, sexy bat of her eyelashes before her expression crumbled with a shaky hitch. The sneeze seemed to back off almost immediately, allowing Piper to scoot closer to him. Oh, fuck. Okay. Yeah. He could do this. Piper tilted her head back as she faced him, nostrils exposed perfectly to Lor. She moved closer to him on the couch, hand still in contact with his leg. He swallowed fiercely, enchanted with the way her nostrils squirmed and flared with each breath she took. Was she doing this on purpose? Or was this just naturally happening to her body? Both were incredibly sexy explanations. 

Lor set one hand on the small of Piper’s back before easing the feather back into her nostril. This just sent her nostrils quivering further. Her chest started to rise and fall at a faster pace than a moment ago. 

Lor didn’t stop. He continued to steadily twist it around in her right nostril. Her breath snagged as Piper gave her head a shallow nod. Okay. He could see it in her face. That tickled. He was--he was going to make her sneeze. And she was helping him do it. And she was okay with that. 

Piper let her head loll lazily to one side. Lor followed her motions with his hand, feather still held tight between his fingers. He carefully stroked down the inner walls of her nose before Piper let out a stuffy little chuckle. “Th-That feels kinda good, Lor...” 

“Y-Yeah?” Lor clarified, a smile starting to twitch at his lips. “Think I can…make it better?” 

Piper could only nod, jaw slack and nostrils squirming with an impending sneeze. He continued to give the inner walls of her right nostril taunting little strokes with the feather. It wasn’t until he started to ease the feather out of her nostril did she react with one heady, desperate hitch. Lor quickly released the feather, allowing it to linger in her full, damp nose. He then watched Piper shudder out a…truly unprecedented sneezing fit. 

The feather wasn’t completely expelled with her first sneeze. It was powerful, sure, and misted the front of Lor’s sweater, but the feather remained lodged in her overactive nose. In fact, the fourth sneeze of the fit was what finally expelled the feather from her nostril. It lay, damp and useless on Lor’s thigh. 

Piper let out a quivered little breath, nose scrunching with a much-needed sniffle.

“Bless you,” Lor said on a weak exhale as Piper started to clean up the underside of her nose with a group of hastily grabbed tissues. She tossed them carelessly to the floor without a second thought once her nose was somewhat tidier. 

Her nose, clearly, wasn’t quite finished with her yet. She sneezed again, disastrously, as soon as she threw the tissues aside. Piper gave one stuffy groan. She gazed at him through eyelashes heavy in maroon glitter from the day. “Hey, Sheldon,” she breathed, nostrils flaring with a lazy inhale. “You….sdf! You still wanna shower before bed?” 

Lor didn’t even question her motivation for this seemingly unrelated question. He just nodded, eyes fixated on her nostrils. 

 “Good.” Without looking away from Lor, she drew the bottom of his sweater up until it lingered just before her nose. He shivered, both at the sudden chill on his abdomen as well as the vision of Piper’s nose hovering desperately above the fabric of his turtleneck. That he was wearing. Right now. 

Again, Piper’s nostrils fluttered. Her chest rose and fell with taunting hitches. Fuck, she had to sneeze. She had to sneeze so badly, didn’t she? He wanted her more than anything.

Piper buckled into his sweater with a sneeze. Oh--and then another. She let out this lasting moan of a hitch that Lor knew was added dramatics. He didn’t mind. He liked that she was adding dramatics for him. That kinda made this even better, right? That she was so excited to tease him? Jesus, and tease she did.

She took in a slow, testing breath through her nose. When she didn’t immediately sneeze, Piper rutted her nose into his sweater, rubbing with quiet desperation. After several seconds of this, Piper groaned and dropped his sweater. Instead, she leaned forward to trail her nose along his jawline. Fuck, the tip of it was still damp.

“I still have to sneeze…” she murmured, starting to kiss at his neck. Almost instantly after, she leaned back with a gasping snag to her breath. “Hh! Hhh--!” He’d have to take this sweater off in a moment, right? 

Folding the sleeve of the oversized sweater over his hand, Lor pressed it right beneath Piper’s nose. There was no hesitation on Piper’s part as she clamped his hand firmly over his. She shuddered out a muffled sneeze. 

Yeah, he was hard. He was very, very hard. 

A moment later, Piper left out three more rapid sneezes into the fabric. They all sounded absolutely desperate, even while being quieted by his sleeve. Lor’s breath was stuck in his lungs the entire time. The warmth of those productive sneezes met his palm through his sleeve almost immediately. 

After one final sneeze that was particularly cushion-shaking--”AhHYD’SCHuhh!”--Piper exhaled through parted lips. Her knitted brows slowly began to relax, now only twitching slightly. “That’s better…” she murmured, using Lor’s covered hand to rub beneath her nose. Lor was expecting her to realize that his hand was, in fact, attached to this convenient fabric that she had turned into a tissue, but…Piper met his eyes, teary though hers were. She knew exactly how he would feel about this. 

She started to move his hand, up and down against her nose. Lor watched in absolute awe as Piper’s jaw started to slacken again. Was it possible that he could feel her nostrils flaring from beneath his sleeve?

When it seemed like Piper was just about to sneeze, she let his hand go. Lor blinked as she leaned back from him, her activated nose continuing to scrunch and twitch. She reached for the damp bottom of his sweater, beginning to pull it up. Lor could think of nothing he wanted more in that moment than to comply.  “C’mon…” Piper said with a damp sniffle. “L-Let m-hh!--me sneeze on more of you.” 

“Fuck, I love you,” Lor exhaled with adoration in every syllable as he carefully removed his sweater. He tossed it aside without fanfare. There were barely a few beats before Piper leaned forward, nestling her nose against his bare shoulder. Her nostrils were damp and squirming and right. There. 

“I love you, too,” Piper said quietly, sniffing congestedly along his collarbone. 

Lor shuddered and gulped, placing his hands on her shoulders. Despite everything in his body screaming at him to stay just like this, he gently pushed Piper back so they could meet eyes. 

“I--I want this,” he said on a shaky gasp. “I really, really want this. I just--I’d feel better if I could go, I-I dunno, shower, and get myself kinda ready for--for everything this is gonna lead to? I-I just prefer those kinds of…experiences to be, um. Clean. Me, clean. Y-You clean, too, actually. If that’s okay.” 

Piper leaned back from him at Lor’s prompting. She sniffled, knuckling one nostril as she offered him a teary smile. “Me, clean, too, don’t worry. I could use a shower, now, anyway. Helps to…unstuffify me. Add that to your horny lexicon.” 

She knew him so well!

Lor nodded. “You can go first, if you want.” 

Piper snorted, her lips pulling upward into a smirk before the expression crumpled again. She sneezed down towards Lor’s now-bare chest, making him shiver at the feeling of the uncontained sneeze making direct contact with what felt like every inch of him. 

She sniffled lazily and finally completed that smile, taking both of Lor’s hands. “I mean that I could use a shower with you.” 

Oh. “Oh!” Lor gasped, a snaggly smile immediately spreading across his face. Lor started to stand, offering his hands to help Piper up as well. “Okay! Let’s--yeah! Let’s go!” 

Piper laughed, starting to pull off her own T-shirt as she followed Lor. “Hold your horses, buckaroo. Take a breath. You’ll be able to rob me of my treasured virginity in a sec. Lemme at least blow my nose first…”

#sneeze fic #sneeze kink #sick fic #not sneeze for work

[nametakensff]

Revelation (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

Okay. Follow up fic to 'Suggestible'! two of three down - this one ended up at 5.6K

H/arry remembers that he has a certain interest in sneezing after K/im has an allergic reaction to dust

~~~~~~

Content:

M/M (one-sided so far), past M/F, cold sneezes, sneezing from dust allergies, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, masturbation, PIV sex (past), sneezing while hiding, sneezing into someone's hand, little bit of voyeurism, embarrassment/humiliation, H/arry lowkey realises he is bisexual

CW: drug and alcohol mentions, self-hatred, H/arry is a general mess

NB - like the last fic, please don't read if you plan on playing the game and don't want certain elements of it spoiled!

NSFW af, Minors DNI Please!

“…etective. Detective. Harry.”

You stir, groaning as a soft voice awakens you from another restless sleep. Looking up, you see Lieutenant Kitsuragi sitting on the edge of your bed. He looks down at you – he does not smile, but his face is patient and calm. You realise that he has been gently jostling your shoulder, and the motion combined with his voice has pulled you out of the inky depths of primordial slumber. The one bleary eye you have opened locks with one of his own – now he smiles at you. It is a warm smile.

“Finally, you’re awake. I was starting to think no amount of shaking would stir you.”

He sounds amused. You struggle to remember why the Lieutenant is sat here, in your room, waking you up like a personal alarm clock. The arrangement these past few days had been to meet downstairs in the morning. An explanation for the change eludes you.

“How are you feeling?”

You groan. A garbling, miserable and melodramatic groan like a recalcitrant teenager being roused for school. The Lieutenant’s warm expression darkens ever so slightly. He sighs.

“That bad, hm? I was hoping some sleep would do you good, but…”

He trails off, looking troubled. You blink, stupidly, and focus all your might in an attempt to remember. It seems to be all you ever do these days. This time, however, your alcohol-pickled brain actually pulls through. A nap. You’ve been catching a cold, and it had finally proved too much for you. Kim said that he would wake you up. It all comes flooding back at once – including the graphic and picture-perfect memory of Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi sneezing. Just thinking about the sight and sound of it begins to rouse you more than a cup of the strongest, most bitter coffee the hostel has to offer could ever manage.

You feel suddenly, entirely insecure. You had been sneezing – loudly, frequently, all over the place. As you push yourself up in bed, you fight to suppress a blush. Kim stands and regards you behind his glasses, offering an outstretched hand. You look up at him and accept it, letting him pull you to your feet. He is stronger than you expected for his lithe, slender build. Your wrist seems almost twice as thick as his own. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised in question as he takes in your burning face.

“Detective, do you have a fever?”

Fuck. Nice one, Harry. You manage to compose yourself. It’s just the hangover, you tell him. He looks only partially convinced.

“Right. If you say so.”

The raised eyebrow stays there, and he shrugs almost imperceptibly. You head into the bathroom and quickly splash your face with water – from the bathtub faucet. The sink remains irreparably damaged as a result of your drug-fuelled bender. Over the sound of the water, you tell the Lieutenant you’re feeling much better – and it’s true. The tickle appears to have receded to more of a low-grade buzz. The cold sea air had clearly irritated you something fierce. After your nap, you can tell that you are still unwell – but it is minor, and certainly doesn’t make you feel much worse than you already did before.

“That’s good, detective. I’m glad to hear it.”

Kim smiles at you as you walk back into the bedroom. He means it, as well. Relief is practically plastered on his face. He would very much like to return to the case. You want to return to it yourself – get this fucking mess over with and remember who you are so that you can decide whether to drink yourself into oblivion or not.

Lieutenant Kitsuragi tells you that he will meet you on the ground floor in a matter of minutes – he needs to retrieve some things from his room. You go ahead and stand awkwardly near the bar once you’re downstairs – far enough away that you do not have to look Garte in the eye. You suddenly feel the tickle threatening to return. You press one forefinger firmly under your flaring nostrils – miraculously, this works. You do not sneeze, although you feel as though you soon might.

Kim joins you and the pair of you make your way outside. The Lieutenant lets you lead. You have a few ideas of where you ought to go next – you will try Klaasje later this evening, after a few more affairs. But first, you feel the need to empower yourself. You are tired of feeling like a loser. You refuse to submit to the cold in your nose. You are not the kind of man to let physical suffering beat you down – emotional, no doubt. But physically, you are stalwart. You are a fitness king – or, you have feeling you used to be, despite the unfortunate beer gut. You don’t know where this thought comes from, but you know it to be true. You remember the abandoned gym in the doomed commercial area – especially that heavily weighted barbell. It beckons to you and your machismo. You feel like you should be able to lift it – no, you can lift it. You will lift it. You jog ahead, leading Kim en route through the bookshop. You ignore the wary glances Plaisance directs towards you, clutching the totem at her neck as if you yourself are one of the evil spirits she so fears.

You walk into the gym. Dust motes spin and spiral through the air in the rays of the setting sun. They seem almost to dance as even the slightest motion of movement stirs them. You stride towards the weights. As you look down at them, positioning your feet in an optimum stance, your ears perk up at a small sound. It isn’t terribly loud, but it is intrusive in the otherwise silent room. You realise with a mixture of pleasure and dismay that Kim is sniffling. You want to look at his face so badly. You want to watch his nostrils twitch and flare. You still don’t understand these desires. With all your effort, you fight the urge to stare and wrap your palms around the cool metal of the barbell, gripping it tight.

Now this feels familiar. This feels practiced. You feel your muscles coil and tense in preparation of the lift. It is exhilarating. You take one last breath, and - you’re doing it! You’re lifting the weights above your head with nary a tremble. Perfect form. You are a muscle god.

You eventually drop the weights with a solid thud – they almost bounce on the floor, a testament to how heavy they are. The floor, caked so heavily in dust that the original colouring is almost imperceptible, shudders with the disturbance. Two clouds of dust arise, the plumes quickly dissipating into the surrounding air. The dancing dust motes spiral faster in the beams of light.

You look towards Kim with a cocky grin. Yes, Lieutenant. How do you like those apples? You are delighted to see that his lips have quirked up in a slight smile of admiration.

“Impressive form, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.”

He uses your full title – a sign of respect. And you have earned it, buddy. You are the man. You feel confidence surging through you. You are going to solve this case. You’re going to solve this case so hard. You allow yourself to stand there a second longer, hands on hips and chest puffed out. It feels good to bask. Your morale soars.

“Okay, whilst that was definitely something, we should get ba-hh! Back t’to-!”

Your eyes are fixed on the Lieutenant at once. Those earlier sniffles appear to have done very little to quell whatever irritation is plaguing him. It dawns on you as you stare openly at Kim – the way his expression crumples, mouth opening in a yawn of irritation and eyes squinting closed – that it is incredibly dusty in this room. You had noticed this, of course – but what you did not notice, so distracted by your own drive to flex some serious muscle, was the effect it was having on your fellow officer. But you’ve noticed now. You continue to stare, watching as the Lieutenant falls to pieces in front of you.

A soft gasp graces the air as Lieutenant Kitsuragi inhales one final breath to fuel his sneezing. As before, he contracts into the protective half-cover of a raised fist. It is just far enough away from his face that you can still make out the flare of his nostrils, the way his mouth clamps stubbornly shut as the sneeze rocks his slender frame. He does it again, in just the same fashion as the first.

“hH’Ddt’ch!! H’Ngxttch!!”

Oh, but they sound so tickly. He has managed to bite them into submission – something that you find yourself continuously impressed by. This time, however, it sounds as though he is barely keeping it together. The furrowing of his brow and the clench in his jaw bely the intense effort he has to put into maintaining even this small amount of composure. Your mouth is dry in moments, and your stomach flips. You don’t think that even a gunshot could pull you out of your mesmerised gawking.

“Hohhh…”

Kim straightens up with a shuddering exhalation. Whilst he is finished for the moment, you see that he keeps a crooked finger pressed under his damp, twitching nostrils. It looks as though he will sneeze again very soon. You swallow – it is more of an audible gulp. You fight off another blush. These intense physical reactions require constant and taxing damage control. He squeezes his eyes shut, hard, then blinks reflexively several times. You notice that the whites of his eyes are suddenly quite pink. Bloodshot. By the looks of it, the Lieutenant is irrevocably, terribly allergic to dust. You try not to swoon as the realisation dawns on you.

“My apologies, detective. I’m allergic to the dust. It’s not normally this bad, but-!”

His expression crumples all at once. You continue to stare at him, ears burning as your mind loops this enticing confession, spoken with such dismay and desperation in the Lieutenant’s sultry accent. You cannot look away from the flared ellipses of his nostrils. The angry stretch of them is almost unrecognisable from their resting state. It is captivating.

The Lieutenant suddenly spins round, facing away from you. You are disappointed, and then deeply worried at the depths of this disappointment. You bury these thoughts and allow yourself to watch Kim’s shuddering back as he sneezes two more times.

“Hhupt’TSCHhh’uu!! HahDD’TZSCHHhht!!”

You cannot help yourself – you utter a small grunt as the sound of those unrestrained sneezes sucker punch you in the gut. You did not have to see the Lieutenant’s face to know they had been somewhat…productive. The spraying sound of them conjures the image of a fine aerosol bursting out from between Kim’s clenched teeth. You wish you could feel that spray on your skin.

Wait. What?

What the fuck??

All at once, it dawns on you. You like this. You like sneezing. Sneezing makes your cock hard. Sneezing makes you cum.

Of all the things to remember, why this? And why now? The Lieutenant is righting himself with an exhausted sigh. To your delight, you also hear him mutter an angry little ‘fuck’ under his breath.

Okay, Harry. You need to pull yourself together. You are moments away from sporting a solid erection the likes of which this world has never seen. Kim is an expert detective, and he will put two and two together immediately. You have to distract yourself. You try and think of Garte in lingerie. You try and think of dead puppies. House fires. World hunger.

These attempts to steer your mind away from this shocking revelation fail. Miserably. Your head is flooded with memories, coming at you one after another after another. You remember fucking her – you don’t remember who she is, just that it is her. You remember your sex, sometimes fumbling and over all too soon, sometimes languid and god-damn transcendental. You know, somehow, that you did not tell her about it. The sneezing thing. But you remember the sensation of her pussy contracting around your cock as she sneezed beautifully, all over your shoulder and catching the side of your face. You remember coming in luxurious waves, groaning loudly enough to make her jump before she was coming herself, gasping as you continued to fuck her right through it.

That memory used to be a fond one, you sense. An often revisited one as you took your cock in hand. Right now, it causes nothing but blinding pain – and an unfortunate erection. You thank whatever powers that may be that you decided to wear your long RCM patrol coat.

Even as you flounder, attempting to process the emotional pain these returning fragments of the past inflict upon you, your aching heart pounding in your chest – you watch as the Lieutenant yanks his handkerchief from his pocket and sneezes into it.

“hH-MPTschhh!! Ohh, mon dieu…”

He shudders with it. You hear the incredulity in his voice once the sneeze has torn its way through him, violently jostling him with its all-encompassing power. He is just as surprised by his own nuclear reaction to the dust as you are. This only makes your traitorous erection grow harder. You grit your teeth.

Another sneeze from the Lieutenant finally urges you to move. Do something, say anything, for the love of God. Kim is recovering from the sneeze, gasping into the handkerchief he clutches desperately to his face like a lifeline. You realise he will only continue to sneeze and sneeze if you do not get him out of this dusty death trap of a room. What you really want to do is unzip the fly of your trousers and go to town as the Lieutenant puts on a show for you. This is the stupidest thought you have had all day.

You make up your mind. Precariously holding the Tare bag in front of your straining trousers, you march up to the Lieutenant and wrap your arm around his slender waist, standing hip to hip. He understands instinctively that you are coming to his rescue; he reaches with one shaky arm to grip at the fabric of your coat between your shoulder blades. You tell him you’re getting him out of here, and to hold on tight.

He nods and attempts to apologise but is interrupted by yet another sneeze. He had foolishly lowered his handkerchief to address you and is unable to catch it in time. It is upon him so quickly that he only just manages to turn away from you. You shouldn’t be watching him, not if you want to gain some element of control over your burgeoning hard-on. But you do anyway. You see the cloud of delicate spray glitter briefly in the rays of sunlight before dissipating just as quickly as it appeared. You somehow manage not to cum in your pants and start guiding the Lieutenant out of the dusty gym, out of the bookshop. You gruffly mutter over your shoulder to an inquiring Plaisance that you have the situation under control. You are irritated that she called out to you at all – you do not want Kim to be more embarrassed than the flushed tips of his ears indicate he already is.

You manage to march him towards his Kineema as he continues to sneeze, opening the door for him and sitting him down while he recovers. You rub his back for a moment. He does not offer any resistance. The dust was definitely the source of his suffering, if you needed any further confirmation. (You did not.) He is already winding down, his breathing returning to normal. He is now able to take in measured breaths that do not immediately trigger further sneezes. You regard him in this sorry state. You think that a few days ago, when you first met the Lieutenant, it might have pleased you to see such a chink in his armour. But now, you feel no such enjoyment. You are happy that with the winding down of sneezes, so too has your erection wilted. The Lieutenant clears his throat. You stand awkwardly and wait for him to speak.

“I’m so sorry, detective.”

The embarrassment makes his voice thick. Or maybe it’s the congestion. Either way, you are saddened to hear it. You assure him that he has nothing to apologise for. You cannot bring yourself to bless him right now. You ask him how he is feeling. He sighs and removes his glasses. His eyes are overflowing with allergic tears. He swipes them away with the edge of one gloved finger.

“Much better now that we are out of there. That was really…something.”

It sure fucking was, you think. You ask him why he didn’t tell you he was allergic. You never would have dragged him back there, you insist. You sound embarrassingly emotional. Pull yourself together, Harry.

“It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think it would matter. I don’t normally react quite so – obtrusively.”

He blows his nose in the handkerchief. The productive sound of it makes you squirm.

“Sorry, again. I wonder if I’m coming down with your cold after all.”

Fuck. You cannot stand to hear him talk like that. The thought of the Lieutenant sneezing helplessly from a cold in his nose is so erotic you almost moan. This is insane. You can hardly believe it is happening. Luckily, Lieutenant Kitsuragi is too pre-occupied tending to his nose to notice your discomfort. In a few quick moments, he is climbing out of the Kineema and standing beside you on the road. You marvel at his capability to get his shit together in such a small matter of time. It is a talent all on its own.

You suddenly wonder again at the intensity of the Lieutenant’s allergic reaction. You have both wandered round the dusty interior of the doomed commercial district several times before, and you didn’t hear so much as a sniffle from your partner. Although your weightlifting efforts uprooted a great deal of dust in the gym, it didn’t stand to reason that Kim hadn’t been exposed to just as much cumulatively over a longer period of time prior. You know you shouldn’t invite further conversation regarding the topic – not when you have only just managed to calm your enthusiastic genitals. You know this.

Why didn’t you react that way yesterday, you ask anyway - we were in there for longer, and you seemed fine.

“It’s an interesting point, honestly. I’m not too sure I understand it myself.”

He seems just as curious as you – it’s endearing on him, that inquisitive expression. His pink nose is unbearably cute. You choose one of his eyes to focus on instead and don’t look away.

“I’m probably still sensitive from earlier today. Sneezing begets more sneezing. The dust was just my limit.”

An excellent deduction from the Lieutenant. Your cock threatens to twitch in your pants. You manage to offer a soft, companionable laugh in return. You joke that it is nice to be offering support for once instead of receiving it. You only consider after you’ve spoken that this might offend Lieutenant KItsuragi. You hold your breath. He smiles at you and offers a friendly, breathy laugh of his own. Your heart flutters in your chest. It is okay. You have avoided a sexual crisis and seemingly improved your relationship with Kim. This is good.

“This reminds me of an experience I had right at the start of my Lieutenancy.”

Oh, god. So now he chooses to open up to you. You had thought you were out of the woods, but no dice. Unlike earlier in the day, the Lieutenant now actively wants to discuss his sneezing with you. You wonder if breaking as spectacularly as he did in front of you has removed any hesitancy to call attention to his nasal sensitivity. You want to cut him off. Quick - spin around and shout at some unknown entity in alarm! Distract him!

You are too late. He is disclosing this story to you whether you like it or not.

“I was assigned to a case with a previous partner, around 4 years ago now. We were tasked with infiltrating and shutting down a local narcotics ring. It wasn’t an especially prodigious one, but certainly difficult enough to penetrate that we spent months gaining the trust of some lower-level ring members. We finally managed to gain entry to one of the main buildings of their organisation. My partner secured an electronic key card for us to return in the evening.”

You nod your head as you listen. Okay. This is a standard police story. Nothing of note. Yet.

“We managed to sneak in undetected – but the building was not as empty as we had previously been led to believe. We were foolish to think it would be as unguarded as our connection had informed us, but anyway. We heard footsteps behind us – and saw the light of a torch skimming across the wall near our heads. We had to find somewhere to hide right away – we stupidly were not wearing bulletproof vests, another terrible mistake. There was a room to our immediate left and the door was unlocked.”

You swallow. You think you can sense what is coming next.

“It turns out this room was a small storage closet – and a very unkempt one at that. There was barely enough room for us to stand beside each other amongst the shelves. It was more of a one-man only space.”

God. You watch as he smiles ruefully at the memory. You are almost sweating with anticipation.

“We had no choice but to stand chest to chest. He was a little taller than I, luckily not too big – otherwise the squeeze would have been painful. Anyway, we could hear the guard patrolling the corridor. It seemed he was taking his time, but it didn’t sound like he was actively opening doors to explore the rooms. We were incredibly lucky. I shudder to think of how badly the entire affair could have ended up. Such lack of foresight on both our parts. He’s getting closer to the closet and we’re holding our breath. But, detective, you have to understand - this was possibly the dustiest room I have ever stood foot in before. It had nothing on that gym.”

You swallow, but your mouth is so dry it does nothing for you. Kim doesn’t seem to notice.

“He’s getting closer, and I realise that I’m going to sneeze. It was the most insistent tickle, my god. My eyes were streaming, and we’d only been in there for a minute at most. I could not speak up and inform my partner – it was too risky, and the guard was too close. I couldn’t move my hands – they were stuck, wedged up against the shelves. My partner, though, he was perceptive. He told me later he could feel the change in my breathing due to our close proximity. His hands were pressed between us – he managed to free one just in time to press it over my nose and mouth.”

Oh. Oh no. Your erection is back. It is swiftly filling with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it. The tare bag returns to its place in front of you.

“I sneezed so many times I genuinely thought I would stop breathing. My head was spinning. It was unbelievable. I was trying my absolute best to keep as quiet as I could, and my partner’s hand was clamped down hard enough that it was almost silent. That was quick thinking on his part.”

He mentions this previous partner with an undisguised air of admiration. You feel, for a moment, quite jealous. You want him to go on.

“Eventually, the guard passes us by. We waited another couple of minutes, just in case. I was dizzy from the lack of oxygen – it was that horrendous. We squirmed our way out of the closet at last. It took another twenty minutes for the sneezing to subside completely, but otherwise we got the pictures and other incriminating evidence we needed, and returned with a SWAT team the following day. All in all, a success. I apologised profusely to my partner – I wanted to buy him new gloves. You understand, I had made…quite a mess. But he told me not to worry. He was very kind.”

He looks at you straight on. Try not to panic.

“As you have been to me. Thank you, detective.”

The Lieutenant smiles warmly at you. You wish you could fully appreciate the gravity of this moment – his gratitude towards you, and his willingness to share such an embarrassing story. But your mind is elsewhere – and your cock is throbbing. You cannot get the image of the Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi having the sneezing fit to end all sneezing fits, pressed up against the body of another man and trapped in a tiny little closet, out of your head. Not at all, you do manage to say. You smile back, though you are sure it looks strained.

“Luckily, unlike with him, I have managed to avoid sneezing on you. Let’s see how long I can keep that up.”

He is joking – you can tell by the playful lilt in his melodic voice. It is definitely a joke. But to you, it is also a tease. To your perverted constitution, it is a flirtatious promise of sorts that he will fail. You are almost floored by an intense wave of arousal. Your cock is at full mast.

You have to get out of here. You have to do something. You mumble to Kim that you have forgotten some tool or other in your room – you’ll be back as quickly as possible, and then you can really continue with the investigation. The Lieutenant nods his head, buying into your story but clearly a little confused at the frantic cadence you are unable to keep out of your voice.

You run. You have never run with an erection before. It is challenging. But you manage it. You race into the hostel, up the stairs, into your room. You slam the door shut behind you, not even bothering to make your way to the bed. You lean back against the wooden surface, unzipping your pants with as much care as you can manage. You take out your cock, the thick phallus resting in the familiar grip of your right palm. You regard it for a moment. You are a big man, and it is proportionate. Both thick and long, and in your current state of extreme arousal, leaking from its reddened tip.

You start to pump it, milking it with your fingers and teasing the head on an upstroke. You may have forgotten most of who you are but your body remembers this instinctually. You have had decades of practice. It does not take you long until you are panting with pleasure, writhing into your own grip on shaky knees.

Your eyes screw shut. You do not want to think. You just want to feel. You fight to keep your mind blank, but it is no use. You first conjure up that familiar, painful, wonderful memory of Her, but you have to stop. You cannot do this now. Your mind continues to wander, and it is of no surprise to you that you settle on a fantasy of the Lieutenant. You replay his story in his head, so painfully erotic. Suddenly, you are right there with him. It is you pressed up against him in that dusty closet, catching his sneezes in your palm. Except you aren’t wearing any gloves, and the fantasy is so vivid that you can practically feel the sensation of the repeated baptisms against your skin. You have slotted a strong thigh between his own. You imagine the weight of his own cock and balls as you start to grind against his hip.

You are so close now. You can virtually taste your orgasm at this point. You continue to stroke yourself, hard and fast. Your legs start to buckle under the mounting pleasure. In your mind, the Lieutenant sneezes over and over. You picture his desperate, tortured expression, his shuddering body, his gasps and moans. The Kim in your fantasy groans in response to your thrusting. He cannot get enough of you. “Harry, please-!” He cries out for you.

The thought of him begging for you is the final straw. All at once you are coming. You whimper with each throb and pulse, ejaculating freely onto the carpet in front of you. The intensity of it surprises you – you sense that you are normally lucky to achieve the weakest drizzle of an orgasm under such circumstances. Hungover, stressed and unwell. But it feels fantastic. It feels like a revelation.

At last, the pleasure subsides. You slide down the door and onto your ass, gasping like an asthmatic as you struggle to ground yourself. You sit for a couple of moments longer, the wilting dick in your hand drooling cum down your knuckles.

Okay, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Du Bois. Pull yourself together. You have just masturbated to the thought of sneezing fetish closet sex with a man you met only several days earlier. This is far from the worst thing you have done, but it is certainly somewhat of a novelty. Do you even find Lieutenant Kitsuragi attractive? You suppose you do. It doesn’t feel anything like being attracted to a woman. Different, but not…bad. Look at you, taking this in your stride. Maybe there is hope for you yet, grandpa.

You walk on slightly shaky legs to the bathroom and clean up briskly. You return with a wad of damp toilet paper to clean up the mess you have made on the carpet. You shudder to think of the room’s upholstery under a blue light.

The orgasm has cleared your mind. You feel refreshed. This post-orgasmic serenity is something you have not experienced in a very long time. Normally, you feel nothing but shame and a deep sense of profound loneliness. Perhaps you should have tried jerking yourself to the thought of men sneezing years ago. Nice, Harry. It’s good to see you joking with yourself.

You make your way back outside to Kim. He smiles at you as you approach. He does not ask you about the tool you are obviously not carrying back with you. If he doesn’t address it, neither will you.

“Okay. Ready to get back to the case, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”

You are. You are about to tell him as much. But then…you feel it. The tickle. It has lingered in the background, waiting to strike - but it is back.

You have only just regained your composure. You cannot allow the tickle to crest. You hold your breath. You squeeze your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms. You are trying so hard. But it is not meant to be. No matter what you do, it is too strong. Your nostrils flare to capacity in a matter of seconds. You are going to sneeze.

You spin around as you inhale that definitive gasp of air to fuel the sneeze. It is a deep gasp – the sneeze it precedes will be another monstrous explosion. You let it happen. In all honesty, it feels great – the sensation as it overwhelms you combined with your post-orgasm buzz is a veritable headrush.

“HHAAEEESHHHHHUuuu!!!”

Luckily, it is just the one. You shiver. Such a delicious release. You cannot allow yourself to bask in it, though. You turn around, apologising as you do so. You lay your eyes on the Lieutenant. A mixture of both dismay and arousal pulse through you as the…’suggestibility’ of your sneeze appears to trigger Lieutenant Kitsuragi all over again. You watch helplessly as he trembles, sneezing thrice into his raised fist. He seems to have regained the ability to strangle them into submission once more.

“Hh’dDDT-!! H’Gxt!! Igk’t!!”

Your spent cock twitches in your pants with each little sneeze. If you were a younger man, maybe just 10 years or so, you are certain your erection would be back in full swing almost immediately. You thank god that you are an aging, washed-up drunk. This is perhaps the first time you have ever done so.

Kim looks at you, rubbing a gloved finger under his dampened nostrils. He takes in the bewildered, guilty expression on your face. The absurdity of the moment renders him temporarily speechless, and then he is laughing. It is a charming laugh – a little more raucous than you had expected from him. He is an enigmatic man full of surprises. You cannot help but laugh a little yourself. You are mortified, but fuck if this isn’t the most ridiculous thing to happen to you yet over these past few days of strange occurrences.

“We’re a miserable sight, officer. I doubt we’ll get through this investigation with our reputations intact.”

You scoff at that, remind him that you couldn’t possibly tarnish yours more if you tried.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Lieutenant Du Bois. You may exceed both of our expectations yet.”

Sarcastic bastard. You tell him to fuck off, which makes him smile – that subtle quirking of his lips again. You decide to head to the Frittte Kiosk to pick up some things – tissues, mostly. Maybe some antihistamines for Kim. You mention this to him.

“That might do me some good. I’m beginning to believe I’m allergic to this entire case.”

He is joking, again. It is good-natured, but for the sake of your dignity, you wish he would stop. You scoff at him. Bullshit, Lieutenant.

“I’m not allergic to that, at least. I can handle a great deal of it.”

Ain’t that the truth. You smirk, making your way into Frittte and hoping that your earlier orgasm is enough to tide you over for the rest of the day. More sneezing is inevitable. You are unsure whether this is a blessing or a curse.

#nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

[devilscastle69]

panic! at the drugstore (j/jk, nanami)

hiiiii @ezynse merry xmas, happy new year, happy day. <3

im ur secret santa. <33 i hope u like this fic. ily. i want u to know the j key on my keyboard is challenged so i wrote "Goo" by accident sm ToT

(sorry for the title i dont even rlly listen to them i- )

please keep this to sneeze kink blogs only! 18+ only!

Summary stuff:

Fandom: J/JK

Characters: Nan//ami, Go/jo, Ijic/hi, Yu/ji,

Pairings: slight nana/go. in the way la croix has flavor

Good future AU (no bad stuff, everyones an adult. set in 2023)

As soon as Nanami detected Gojo’s presence, he should have turned on his heel and left. Instead, he’d gone into the drugstore, reasoning that the necessity of his trip outweighed the aggravation it’d cause. He wasn’t naive enough to hope he’d get out of here without any additional psychic damage but maybe he’d luck out and Gojo would— 

“Nanami!” Gojo sang from a few aisles over. This was starting to play out like one of his nightmares. Verbatim. “Wow, you shop here too?!” 

“Not anymore.” 

Gojo laughed easily and brushed off the obvious rejection with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not happy to see your best buddy!”

“I have no such thing.” Nanami sighed and drew out a cough in the process which he managed to muffle into the sleeve of his jacket. Anyone else would have read the room and left him alone, but Gojo continued to chatter on at a volume unfit for the public space they were in. If only he’d move back a few centimeters so Nanami could escape without having to push past him and potentially causing a bigger scene than they’re already causing. He’d already used up his energy—both cursed and otherwise—at work today and he was quickly fading. 

 For the first time, he wished he could focus on the bubblegum pop blasting through the speakers with its sentiments of Sakura blossoms and old times; it would beat trying to follow the embellished story Gojo was telling. He pinched the bridge of his nose. To make matters worse, the temperature change had caused the congestion that had mostly settled by the end of the train ride over here to return with a vengeance. His nose threatened to drip and he risked a small sniffle. Immediately, he recognized it as a mistake when the lingering prickle sharpened and traveled deeper into his nose.

As if he hadn’t sneezed enough today. 

“And after all that I got some wagashi at this great place near the hospital, Great Luck right? And haha it was! Anyway, the point is… I got some stuff for Yuji, but then I got hungry waiting for the car so I figured I’d better make up for it.”

Nanami made a point of checking his watch as a last ditch effort for a polite departure, less for Gojo’s sake and more for the sake of everyone else in this godforsaken store. But most of all for his own sake, considering he’s quickly losing the battle against the pertinent tickle up his right nostril. “I don’t have time to talk,” he said evenly, breath only wavering once he’s gotten the last word out. 

Unfortunately, Gojo clasped his shoulder, refusing to let him leave. “Did you take the train here? We could carpool instead, Ijichi is—”

“ht’KKxt!” Nanami interrupted with a poorly restrained sneeze directed into the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Bless you!” Gojo’s head lolled to the side; he had the decency to release him, but otherwise didn’t move out of his personal space. Nanami nodded and turned away. “Wow, that sounded painful. You okay?”

It was. “hGNXt’ch! h’kKt…chh.” Damnit. “Hh- kmpht’Chhh!” He might not have been able to see Gojo’s eyes, but he sure could feel them on him. This tickle just wasn’t going to quit until he let it out, and he’d rather end this as soon as possible. “h’eSCHh!” 

“Oh bless you.” Gojo, ever uncaring of displaying any decorum, took zero steps away from him. He examined him from a few different angles, tapping his chin as he hovered. “Bet I can guess why you’re here today!”

“Excuse me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed small circles all the way into the inner corners of his eyes and tried to ignore the heat that had risen to his ears. His head pounded even harder than it had before. 

“Always so formal, huh?”

Always so inappropriately casual, huh? Nanami glanced at Gojo’s basket and its contents: strawberry shampoo, bags of candy, winter apple body wash, face masks, moisturizer, cotton candy flavored lip gloss, and more items he couldn’t quite make out, but surely none of them were essential enough to inconvenience Ijichi in the way Gojo was. Everything he’s learned about Satoru Gojo has been against his will, and now he’s horrified that his brain was wasting the time wondering if he’s one of those people who can’t go to the store and truly buy one item.

“So, how was your—”

“I don’t have time to talk. Excuse me.” Risking a shoulder check, Nanami walked towards the aisles. He tried not to sniffle more than strictly necessary and tried to ignore the extra set of footsteps behind him. Key word was tried.

“Oh wow, you really sound terrible.” Gojo said sympathetically, continuing to haunt Nanami all the way to the cold and flu aisle. “How long have you had that cold?”

Why did it have to be Gojo?

“Stop following me.”

“You forgot your basket, though.” 

So he did. “I don’dt need that much.” It was true, but Nanami accepted the basket anyway from the pouting man. 

“Mm, really? You kinda sound like you’re dying, y’know.” Gojo wandered around the aisle and picked up a box of medicine that he held up to his blindfolded eyes. “No offense.” A man started walking in their direction, took one look at Gojo, and immediately turned around. Nanami released a small forlorn sigh through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be finde.” he said, clearing his throat. He could curb the hoarse quality his voice had taken on, but the congestion was something he’d have to live with for now. “You mentionded Ijichi is waiting?”

“Yeah, so hurry up, Nanami!”

“I will n’dot be ri-ridi’hhgg wih—” He’d gotten distracted and hadn’t noticed that the itch from before had been slowly respawning. Gojo gave a questioning hum as Nanami his knuckle to his nose, sniffled sharply, and cleared his throat again. “I will not be riding with you.”

 “Aw, not with me?” 

Nanami shot him a glare. All of his efforts were in vain because the urge to sneeze returned with a vengeance and demanded his attention in a way that put Gojo’s efforts to shame. The prickle spread like wildfire through his sinuses, and in spite of his efforts in snuffing it out, he’d allowed himself to get distracted enough to give the enemy the advantage. “Hh-!” He inhaled sharply before shoving the back of his wrist up to his nose. “nGhthsCH! hh’NGXTCHh’ueh!” That last one had been particularly loud but had been just as unrelieving as its predecessors. “hehH’TSChhiuh!”

 Gojo patted his back. There was a warmth to his palm that Nanami could feel even through the layers of fabric acting as a buffer between them. “Bless you.” Using only his free hand, he easily broke the seal of a travel pack of tissues on the shelf and nudged a few tissues into Nanami’s palm.

“You’re supposed to pay first.” In spite of the protest, he fixed his glasses that were in danger of falling off his face and accepted the tissues; by noon, his handkerchief had become unusable and he’d already gone through the tissues he’d accepted at the train station this morning, so his options were limited. He turned away for a moment to blow his nose. While his efforts were productive, they did little to kill the taunting buzzing in the back of his nose. He pinched his nostrils shut from behind the tissue and willed the tickle to recede.

“Not yet! Hey if I buy your stuff will you ride with me? Wouldn’t you get back sooner that way? Oh, bless—”

“hh’MPHtchh!”

“—you again!”

He took a moment to massage the bridge of his nose in a silent apology to himself for the poor attempt at stifling before clearing his throat and bringing up sodden tissue to wipe the lingering moisture from the red rims of his nostrils. 

No amount of free cold medicine would make spending his free time with this absolute menace in a small enclosed space worth it, but at the same time it’d be less aggravating for him to just go along with it in the long run. Gojo’s already made it clear he has no intention of leaving him alone. He gave half a nod and picked up the first bottle of cold medicine that he saw and a bag of face masks and took a few steps in the direction of the check out. 

“That’s all you’re buying?” Gojo asked. His lips formed an exaggerated frown and his forehead wrinkled as if he was bewildered by Nanami’s shopping habits.

Nanami was too busy fighting a losing battle against the threat of another sneeze to tell Gojo to stop adding more items to the basket, but he managed to shoot him a pointed glare before his expression crumpled. “Hh- hehhH- …mPHTtshhiuh! Pardon,” he said more out of habit than anything and wiped his nose again, “I have more than enough now.” 

“So frugal.”

He supposed the cough drops, vicks, lotion tissues, vitamins, and nasal spray wouldn’t hurt, especially if accepting them will get Nanami out of here faster. Since he’d already opened the tissues, he figured he might as well put on one of the masks in the pack. His glasses immediately fogged and he tucked them into his inner coat pocket.

After they’d approached the register Gojo told the cashier they would be paying together and nuzzled his cheek against Nanami’s shoulder in an intimate way. He’d smack him later. 

The cold pierced through Nanami’s coat as soon as they opened the door. As annoying as this situation is, he can’t say he’s upset that he won’t have to walk back to the train station. They turned a corner and Gojo pointed out the car. 

“I know, I know.” Gojo opened the door to the passenger side and abruptly wrapped an arm around Nanami’s shoulder, yanking him into the field of vision as if he’d run away. “That took a little longer than I said, but look who I ran into!”

“Nanamin!” Itadori called out from the back seat with a cheery wave. Nanami is just as surprised to see him, though he’d mostly tuned out Gojo’s story. “No way, what a coincidence!”

Nanami shot Gojo a withering look and gave a slight bow to Itadori. “Itadori-kun…” 

“Think fast!” Gojo called out and threw a bag of candy at Itadori. 

He caught it easily. “Wow, thank you, Gojo-sensei!” 

“Gojo-san, we were meant to be back over a half hour ago—“

“Ijichiiii, you need to relax. Seriously, you’re already getting frown lines, that’s no good. Look, I even got something for you. Tadaaa~” He dropped a pack of instant udon into his lap and a face mask and made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. “Can you drop Nanami Kento-kun off first?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ijichi sighed and took a moment before he half-heartedly thanked Gojo for the gifts. Then he turns to look at the backseat. “Of course, Nanami-san.” He and Nanami shared a quick glance as the cause of their stress tore into his own pack of candy and ate it noisily. 

“Oh, why are you wearing a mask, Nanamin?” Itadori asked as Nanami sat next to him and put on his seatbelt. “Do you have a cold?”

“It’s alright,” Nanami assured him and cleared his throat, “just a mild one.”

“I dunno if mild is the right word there, Nanamin.” Gojo interjected as Ijichi finally started driving.  

Itadori’s face fell and Nanami sincerely considered kicking the back of Gojo’s chair, though he was too busy pinching his nose shut over the fabric of the mask to stifle a sneeze that had nearly escaped his detection. “hGXxt’chshh!- excuse me.”

“Bless you. I hope you feel better soon.” Itadori frowned and offered him a piece of candy. Nanami shook his head and Itadori shrugged and ate it himself. 

“You’re gonna pop an eardrum like that,” Gojo chastised, clicking his tongue.

All of this was past the point of the nightmare he’d thought he was having earlier and was starting to veer into the fever dream category. Perhaps in more ways than one. Gojo flicked through the radio stations until he found what he was looking for and started singing along with a pop song. Itadori joined him and they pointed at each other while Nanami reflected on his life choices and folded his arms more tightly over his chest.  

Nanami glanced at Ijichi’s GPS. Twenty minutes of this felt like a death sentence. His limbs had started aching a few hours ago and now that the adrenaline was long dead and he was sitting again, he felt it in full force. The sudden urge to lean his temple against the foggy window arose and he indulged in it, ever so slowly pressing his forehead to the window. 

While Gojo was especially pitchy, the noise at least took the focus off of Nanami as he muffled a series of throat-tearing coughs against the crook of his arm. His lungs gave a slight whine as he regained his breath and he could feel the silent attention the other three men were giving him. 

“Can you breathe okay, Nanamin?” Itadori asked, patting his shoulder. If it were anyone else, Nanami would have batted the hand away, but doing that to Itadori would feel like kicking a puppy and it's not like he was heartless. While most people become hardened and jaded after living the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, Itadori remained as kind and genuine as ever over the years. 

Instead he nodded. “Yes. Don’t worry.” 

Itadori gave him a thumbs up. The singing continued and he pitied Ijichi for how long he’s had to put up with Satoru Gojo today. 

To Gojo’s credit, he toned down the singing, but Nanami almost wished he’d go back to his caterwauling, because his nose had chosen that moment to betray him yet again. It itched like mad and putting pressure on the tip of his nose did nothing to chase the feeling away. He did his best to muffle it into his sleeve anyway, hoping the extra layers would do anything to make it less intrusive than he knew it would be. “Hh- hgzt’SChhiuh! heHMPHhshh’ieuh!- pardon me.”

“Aw, bless you,” Gojo chimed in, stretching out his seatbelt as he turned his body around to face him. “Do you want my jacket, Nanamin?” He puckered his lips.

This time he let his shoe dig into the bag of Gojo’s chair. “No.”

Ijichi quietly turned up the heat. “Give him a break, Gojo-san,” he said tiredly. 

The rest of the ride quite literally blurred together as Nanami fought to keep his eyes open. With the heat on, his chills were kept at bay, and it was easy to drift off to sleep. He jolted and shook himself awake at least three times before the familiar building came into view, and the third time, it’d been because Itadori was saying his name to get his attention. Ijichi pulled up closer and stopped the car. Nanami thanked him for the ride and held up a hand to stop Itadori from offering a side hug. 

“Get well soon, Nana—”

Nanami shut the car door and ignored the rest of Gojo’s sentence. Getting into the apartment was a blur, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d come home in rough shape, relying on autopilot. He immediately hung his jacket and loosened his tie, and then he removed his face mask, cringing as he pinched away the lingering moisture from his nostrils. He’d done his best to avoid rubbing his nose all day, but his efforts seemed to be in vain considering how sore it still was. 

As much as he wanted to just collapse into the couch, his discipline won out and he managed to undress. Though, not without challenge. “huhh…HGSCHh’uh!” He sneezed all over his chest, too slow to cover in his exhausted state. Undeniably, it was a relief to be able to sneeze freely in the privacy of his bedroom. “hh-...hDJtSchh’euh! hhaH’DTzSHhh’ih!” 

He found the tissues from the bag and blew his nose, letting out a slight hum of relief as some of the congestion came free. His eyes still ached and with a quick dose of medicine, he was ready to close them. He laid in bed with the extra throw blanket atop the comforter and waited for the chills to die down so he could sleep.

It  was restful for the first few hours. As he’d anticipated, he woke up in the early hours of the morning coughing, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and his mouth bone dry. 

3 AM. 

It was too early for this. He forces himself into the kitchen to fill a tall glass with water and to find a few more items from the bag. He took the cough drops out and put one in his mouth and placed the rest of the bag on the bedside table. 

Somehow knowing that he needed as much sleep as possible hindered him from doing so. He drifted in and out of sleeping for the entire morning, occasionally walking up mumbling something incomprehensible. 

He was finally asleep until his phone went off a few minutes past 6 AM. It wasn’t his alarm, but an obnoxious ding.

Gojo: 

heyyy nanamin~ 

… Nanami clenched his jaw as he watched the animated ellipses bubble and waited to see what could possibly be so important to disturb him.

Gojo:

good morning! 🌞hope u get some rest today hahaha :D you sounded awful 🤒dont go dying </3

Typically jujutsu sorcerers have about as much paid sick leave as he would’ve had at his former company: basically none. What kind of fucked up—

Nanami frowned, realizing he’d missed some other notifications, including the ones canceling his mission for the day. It’s easy to put the pieces together. He had to put the phone down to sneeze a few times, and it continued to ding throughout his fit.

Gojo:

we’ll have to go out when youre better!! next friday?? theres a new barcade i wanna try and then KARAOKE!!!!!! :DDD

Gojo:

Nanamiiiiii D: 

Gojo:

don’t leave me on read

Gojo:

bless youuuuu :3

Gojo:

no i cant hear u im just guessing

Gojo:

was i right?? o.O 

Nanami silenced his phone and went back to sleep, deciding to address the new situation, along with the strange feelings that’d started coming up, later. For now, at least he could relax. 

Nanami:

Thank you.

#snzfic #snz #sneeze kink #my writing #j/jk #cold snz #sneeze fic #snz fic

[koreofitall]

Okay! so I saw this art of Kaveh and Al Haitham on twitter and IMMEDIATELY wanted to write something for it. My brain instantly saw the potential to include snz, so I did lol. These 2 will have a forever grip on my heart istg 💚

Al Haitham and Kaveh are sat together on the couch. Haitham is sitting upright, Kaveh is laying against the arm of the couch, legs draped over Haitham's. They're conversing, but Kaveh is doing all of the talking, and using sign language nonetheless. Haitham had a rather overstimulating day at work and needed to come home and recuperate, headphones off and all. Kaveh goes in and out of vocalizing some words because he just can't help it, but most of the conversation is done in complete silence. He starts by explaining how he dropped his pita pocket on his way to a consultation this morning, and then how one of his clients was completely delusional for wanting to build their house right in the middle of the desert.

'Oh my god, he never shuts up,' Haitham thinks to himself, but with the sweetest smile on his face. Kaveh learned sign for him, and even knows immediately when it needs to be used. No questions asked, just the most willing and effortless accommodation for his love.

Kaveh, still signing, is going on and on and on and on about other various little troubles he encountered throughout the day, when he suddenly pauses. His hands stop moving and actually hover closer to his face. Haitham notices, but just keeps caressing his legs as he's been, waiting for Kaveh to continue but aware of what's about to happen.

"Hhi-!tzshu!-IShu! HHha-! HI'NGXT-shiew!"

He let's out 3 small(ish) and clearly subdued sneezes, throwing them into his elbow and away from Haitham.

"Snf! Guh, sorry," he semi-whispers.

"Bless you," Haitham signs and speaks, then goes back to just signing.

Why did you hold those back? It sounded like it hurt.

You've had a rough day, I don't want my sneezes to add to that.

His normal sneezes are ridiculously loud and Haitham can't deny that. He smiles to himself, Kaveh noticing.

What? Kaveh signs.

"You're so good," Haitham says, very matter of fact. "To me, to those around you. Very accommodating and attentive."

Kaveh pauses, not expecting to have heard that from Haitham. It sounds too good to be true.

Well, I try to be. Kaveh signs with a rather proud look on his face, soaking up this rare praise.

"But don't do that again. Not only is it bad for you, but holding back and stifling make your sneezes specifically ten times worse. I'd rather you blow my eardrums out now than over the course of the entire evening."

Kaveh, who is now visibly fuming, angrily signs and speaks.

"You! Just when I thought I'd finally received genuine praise for being so mindful of you, you pull this! Everytime!"

"That was genuine praise. You can't deny what stifling does to you, though. Any second now and-"

"HA'GTZSH-UH!"

. . .

"Don't-"

My point exactly.

"HAITHAM!"

Haitham then takes Kaveh's left hand, brings it to his face and kisses it, making him blush and shutting him up immediately.

"Thank you, Kaveh."

#aaaaaand scene! #just a lil drabble #I just love them so much your honor 😭💚 #korewrites #g/enshin i/mpact #sneeze kink #snz #snz kink #k/aveh #h/aitham #a/lh/aitham #sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze drabble #snz drabble

[empresskaze]

🌨 for an old Camp Libriel member?

🌨️ Stuck in cold weather

I think it's this one, anon if you see this feel free to correct me cuz the emojis aren't totally the same for me.

~~~~

Gabriel Lane Herondale loathed the snow. From the slush that covered his loafers, to the dampness that matted his hair, to neverending chill that seeped into his bones from the weather, he despised it. His dearest claimed it was pretty, and perhaps it was, but only when enjoyed inside surrounded by working heat, warm tea, and no reason to leave.

Today, though, he found himself waiting at a bus stop while large billowy flakes coated his hair and aggravated his already tumultuous cold. One gloved hand clasped across his body as it tried desperately to retain the bit of warmth his coat brought; the other clutching his soddened handkerchief, which hovered mere inches from his red nose.

Sniffling, Gabriel's droopy tired eyes staring forward, trying not to think about how cold he was waiting for this god forsaken bus.

His breath hitched hard, his eyes squeezed shut as wet congested sneeze erupted into his waiting handkerchief. He'd not even had time to draw another breath before a second then a third followed, each ripping the back of his throat. Gabriel cupped his cloth around his nose, giving a clogged blow that brought little relief.

It was then Gabriel released he no longer felt snow patting his hair. Looking around, a well dressed man in a black coat was next to him holding an umbrella over Gabriel's head. The professor blinked in exhausted confusion.

The man smiled, "I know it isn't much but it seems any break from the snow might help you."

"Oh!" Gabriel felt a hot blush rush across his face stopping at his ears. "I-I appreciate it, b-but please don't...leave yourself..." Gabriel turned away catching another horrendous sneeze. "Exposed at my own expense." He finished sheepishly.

"I'm fine, I'm sure the bus will be here soon." The man replied.

Gabriel nodded, it did feel nice to be shielded from the persistent snow for now. "I normally stay hidden in my apartment," He paused to rub at his nose, "But my dearest partner is quite ill...as well..." He gave a disheartening sigh. "So I ventured forth for his med..." Gabriel’s face slacked, "his...med...me....ah..." Pinching at his nose did nothing, Gabriel bent forward desperately sneezing twice. As he straightened he felt another embarrassed blush fill his pale face but the man only blessed him.

"Well I hope you both feel better soon." He said as the bus finally approached.

"Yes...thank you and for the shelter." Gabriel said as he climbed aboard, taking a seat near the back so he wouldn't disturb anyone.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the window, a poor attempt to get some rest before his stop, which he almost missed as he'd drifted off.

Back in the warm of the loft building, Gabriel rushed as best as his lungs could take him to the elevators, he wanted to be back home before Liam realized he'd been gone.

His dearest did so much for him, even though he felt awful, his poor Liam was worse and if helping him meant fighting the winter snow, Gabriel would do it every time.

#anon asks #kaze answers #yay for camp libriel fans #sorry this took so long #so very fessor #kaze writes: Gabriel #snz fic #sick fic #sneeze fic #kaze writes: drabbles #fessor with a miserable cold is my fave #jesus christ i actually wrote something \○/

[anditvanisheslikemist]

October 4 - Warm Drinks

From this prompt list. Last year; this year; AO3 (where they will eventually end up).

Nico brings in the tea as quietly as he can, gently nudging Jupiter back about the bedroom door but unable to stop Luna from slipping in between his feet. Matty's curled up at the edge of the bed, the only light a soft glow from the sunset filtering through the curtains. Nico sets down the tea on the bedside table and perches in the space on the edge of the bed at Matty's hip.

"I'm sorry today was so hard," he says, voice low, running a hand through Matty's hair. Matty shivers, and his breath catches, and he braces exhaustedly for the hhh... ngxxt'DT!hhh... that follows. Nico can't help the worried sound low in his own throat, and Luna must agree, because she leaps up silently onto the bed and curls up on Matty's pillow, just behind his head.

Matty blows his nose for the millionth time since he got home for work-- or tries to; his sinuses are so swollen that it doesn't do much good.

"I think you've got a fever," Nico says, tracing his fingers along Matty's brow.

Matty gives a congested, noncommittal sound, and then a sound that can only be an objection.

"No, I'm not gonna say I told you so." He had, this morning; had said that Matty should stay home, that he could see the sinus infection coming on a mile away, to just preemptively take it easy for a while. It hadn't done any good. "I am gonna say that tea will help, though." His thumb is still moving against Matty's temple, his fingers back in his hair.

Matty pushes himself up to half-sitting under his own power, which is good because he's got four inches, thirty pounds, and who knows how much muscle on Nico. He groans, and coughs, and blows his nose again, more productively this time.

"Tea," Nico reiterates, handing him the mug. Matty just nods, exhausted, and takes a careful sip. "We'll go get antibiotics in the morning." Matty nods again, miserable, and Nico touches his elbow to get him to take another sip. "Just rest, okay? I love you."

A hoarse whisper, but sincere: "I love you, too."

#sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz #hindsight 'verse #anditvanisheslikemist writes #october prompts

[itsallsternutation]

A Love Letter to Blankets

Maybe I’m just sentimental bc I just bought a really nice wool throw blanket, but I just wanted to fawn over the myriad of ways blankets and snz go together like apple and pie

A familiar blanket that always gets pulled out to both keep a feverish sickie warm and to keep them comfortable.

A caretaker throwing a warm blanket over an especially miserable sickie as both a sign of compassion and a mandate of rest.

An especially symptomatic sickie so exhausted they forgo tissues or hankies and instead opt to sneeze, wipe, and blow all of their snot into their blanket. Why not? They’re gonna have to wash this pretty soon anyway.

Blankets covered in all the snot and spray of all the not-quite-covered sneezes that smells like they’ve been especially well used and well loved by an especially miserable sickie

A chilled sickie having to get up to answer the door, wearing the warm throw blanket wrapped around them and clutching a comfort object, a soiled hanky or a wet clump of tissues, revealing themselves in all their misery to someone absolutely ready to sort on them.

Blankets used to swaddle a feverish sickie.

A sickie and a caretaker (or even better, two sickies, one of which is a former caretaker) huddling under a blanket as a way to share warmth and comfort.

Feel free to RB and add a few of your own. I think I’m gonna make a part two to this post about beds pretty soon. Let me know if you guys liked this and maybe I’ll do more❤️

#snz things #sneeze #snz fet #snz kink #snzblr #sneeze kink #sneezeblr #snz #sneezing #snzfucker #snz thoughts #sneeze thoughts #snz blog #snz scenario #snzario #snzfic #sneeze blog #sneeze fic #sneezefucker #cold sneezes #messy sneezes #sneeze oc #itsallsternutation's fics

[aller-geez]

Hello, yes! I finally pulled myself from my writers slump, and just had to have this RemixLevi fic after seeing this snz prompt by @blooming-trees the other day..

Are you new here, or otherwise need a refresher of our OCs?

✨👨‍👨‍👧‍👦✨ Our OC Masterlist is located Here! ✨👩‍👩‍👧‍👦✨

Interested in reading more of our boys, or any of our other OCs?

✨🗃️✨ Our Fic Masterlist is located here! ✨📚✨

Nearly 3K words, RemixLevi snzfic with Remi as the sneezer bc obviously I’m a little bit partial 🫠🫠 Pls enjoy 🖤 would love feedback if you have any! 😭🤧

I’ll Make You A Deal…

A RemixLevi snzfic 🖤

“Remington! What the hell!?” Levi shrieked in frustration as he stormed in from the kitchen, waving around a few different food items in each hand and flinging droplets of water everywhere as he did so. The leopard was greeted by a very lethargic looking wolf who laid stomach down on their shared bed, his mouth hanging open slightly as his dull green eyes remained locked on the screen of their tv and the Xbox controller already clacked away loudly in his hands despite it being 9 am. Both Remi’s eyes and his nose were rimmed with the same matching red, moisture glistening from his septum as he gasped out ragged breaths from his spot the bed. With a liquidy yet unproductive sniffle, the large man finally paused his game to look over at the cat with an eyebrow raised.

“What’d I do?” Remi asked in a low, hoarse voice.

“Did you forget to close the fridge last night after you made your late night snack?” Levi crossed his arms across his chest as he waited patiently for his mate’s reply, almost like a mom after receiving a bad report card.

The wolf visibly thought for a second, trying to imagine himself making his toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich at 2 am the night before, although everything was pretty fuzzy. Drinking the entire bottle of NyQuil to finally be able to sleep through the constant buzzing in his sinuses probably wasn’t his smartest idea; although he did finally manage to fall asleep afterward, so the canine couldn’t complain too much. “Uh, I don’t remember?”

Levi held the items in his hands out in front of him, waving them around a little with a frustrated scowl. “No, you left it open all night and now all of this food we bought for this whole trip is spoiled!”

A flash of guilt passed over the large man’s features, and he sighed softly before muttering a couple of deep, chesty coughs into his balled up fist. “I’b sorry, Levi, that’s by bad.. I guess it’s doordash for the week, huh?” Remi offered, hoping to try and make a little light of the shitty situation he caused.

Levi gasped and shook his head quickly, a look of horror on his face at the thought of Door Dash for every meal for the next eight days, when they had a perfectly good kitchen to cook in right inside their bus. “Ummm.. no.. we’re going to find the grocery store and get FOOD.”

“Levi, combe od..” The wolf nearly whined, suddenly looking equally horrified thinking of having to be anywhere around people right now in his current condition. As if on cue, Remi’s chapped, dampened nose twitched to life, the tickle quickly becoming too intense to ignore and he could only duck his head down towards the bed weakly. “Hh'IISHH! —hd’ISCHhh!! —h’dtTISHh!!”

A mist of contagious droplets coated the bedspread in front of him, the wolf was left sniffling thickly while scrubbing at his septum with an index finger knuckle. “Nngh. How the hell are we godda do that? Just drive there and park our giadt blue bus in the parkigg lot?” Remi slowly began to rise to a full sitting position, and once he sat on the edge of the bed, his long fingers snatched a few tissues from the box on the nightstand. With a thick gurgle, the wolf drenched the ball of tissues in his hands in one blow, grimacing before tossing it in the trash can and clearing his throat.

“There’s one not super far from here, but I can’t read the directions at the same time as watching the mountain roads..” The leopard thought out loud, taking a second to ponder, before his face lit up mischievously. “I know! Since you left the fridge open all night, your punishment is giving me directions~” Levi giggled with a cheeky grin, sticking the tip of his tongue out towards the very unenthusiastic wolf.

“Levi.. you kdow I dod’t feel good..” The canine whimpered with a defeated exhale, the other’s stern parental -like expression softening slightly when his icy blue orbs met with Remi’s dim green ones.

“I’ll make you a deal.. If you can help me with the directions there, I’ll go in and do all of the shopping and you can go back to bed, okay?” The leopard offered with a gentle smile, to which Remi shrugged his shoulders with a quick eye roll.

“Fide.. But I’m goidg to be extra addoyidg..” The wolf chuckled softly, but his laugh was quickly cut short by a deep, painful coughing fit that echoed through the small living space. Once able to catch his breath, he pulled his hood over his head and came to his feet. Remi managed yet another sigh, and Levi rolled his eyes playfully at how dramatic his mate could be for such an otherwise extremely intimidating guy. The two made their way up to the front where Remi lazily plopped himself down in the passenger seat, and Levi shimmied his way into the drivers seat, keys in hand.

“Here, I pulled it up on my phone already, just tell me as the turns come up?” Levi smiled graciously again towards his mate, passing him his phone with the screen already open on the route. Remi took it, leaning back a little in his seat to try and make himself more comfortable for the 20 minute drive, sniffling sharply against one of his wrists. “Nnngh, my dose is so stuffed up..” He complained hoarsely, to which Levi passed him a quick, empathetic expression.

“I’m sorry love, I’ll get you some more NyQuil at the store if you take it how it’s supposed to be taken..” The cat chuckled breathily, slipping the keys into the ignition and turning them. The bus engine roared to life, and Levi rubbed the steering wheel gently with a smile. “Good job May, let’s get going!” He cheered happily, quickly clicking his seatbelt on. With an almost inaudible grumble from the wolf, they were off.

Only a few moments after leaving the gravel road of the rest stop they had been staying at, the bus finally made it to the main road, coming to a full stop at the stop sign.

Levi took the opportunity to turn to his mate to make sure he was still paying attention to navigating as the other had a habit of getting distracted, but was met with the wolf’s fluttering eyelids, and quickly flaring reddened nostrils that gleamed with moisture. Before words could come out of the cat’s mouth, Remi pitched to the side, one arm weakly lifting towards his face in a half assed attempt to cover his sneezes, although he failed miserably.

“hh'IETSH’UE! HI’DTSCHIEW!” The wolf sneezed harshly into the open space of the cab, spraying not only himself and the air around him, but even Levi was a casualty, placed perfectly in Remi’s ‘Splash Zone’. Without a word, the cat swiped away a few particularly large droplets that had landed on his arm, although he was used to it after being with the large, immune deficient man for so long.

Remi snorted thickly, before scrubbing at his nose in quick, circular motions, a soft clicking sound echoing loudly above the low hum of the vehicles engine as he did. “Nnngh, by bad..” he grumbled again, finally able to focus his eyes on Levi’s phone.

Seeing Remi relax once again took some of the edge off for the leopard, exhaling silently and looking back towards the road with a smile. Pushing forward, they traveled onward for a bit, before the wolf cleared his throat suddenly.

“Turdn left odn Naglee Road up here.” He instructed, looking up at Levi to see that he had heard him. The smaller man nodded with a grin, thankful Remi wasn’t too preoccupied to get them lost, and did as he was told. The bus cruised around the corner smoothly, and the map on the phone in his large hand updated accordingly.

The wolf attempted to snort back some of the congestion that was beginning to make his face throb, although at this point, it was pretty much useless. He whined softly, pinching just under his bridge piercing as another tickle began to bloom deep within his sinuses. Every sneeze felt like it would make his head pop with the pressure, and he REALLY wanted to go lay back down..

Suddenly, Remi’s mouth began to curl up into its own mischievous smirk. To be fair, he told Levi he would be extra annoying if he had to be up here.. Why not make it fun?

Sniffling softly a few times to tease the building tickle from his nose, the wolf wouldn’t have had time to cover even if he wanted to with how fast it completely took over.

“—HEH’TXSSHhh’ih! Hd’IZTSSHHhhh’ih!” The two forceful sneezes tore from the large man’s throat, a large cloud of contagious mist filling the space between them again, and coating the other’s freckled arm. When Levi’s eyebrows furrowed to try and concentrate more on the road, Remi’s smirk got a little bigger. Even someone as sweet and patient as Levi was had to have their breaking point, right? Anyone else would have already been done with Remi’s childish behavior.

Snuffling wetly, he leaned back in his seat again, this time with his sock clad feet up on the dashboard, to which Levi gave him a quick side eye. The wolf grunted, slipping them off again and thumping back on the bus floor.

“What’s the next turn?” Levi asked over his shoulder, clearly unamused by his mates shenanigans.

“Turn right on Belbourde Street in a half mile.”

“On.. what street?” Levi questioned, his eyes flickering to his mate’s face for a second before returning to the road in front of them.

“…..Belbourde.. Bel—“ The congestion behind Remi’s eyes continued to increase, leaving all of his words rounder than intended, and he sighed in frustration. “BMELBORNDE” he barked finally, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a self conscious huff, and Levi couldn’t help but laugh gently.

“Okay baby, we should be almost there. I think there’s one more turn off after the Melbourne exit.” The white haired man smiled, quick to reassure his mate, despite how much of a brat he’d been. But then again, that was just who Levi was.

The wolf huffed again from his seat, coming to the quick conclusion that the extra 10 minutes he would get if he was told to go lay down now weren’t as worth while as he thought, and the canine gave up the grocery sabotage entirely.

Again Levi turned the bus around the next corner with ease, driving the huge vehicle expertly around the tight, windy roads down the mountain a little ways, seemingly in his element as he remained completely focused on the task at hand. After a second, the cat waved one thin hand out towards Remi to get his attention again. “Hey, the last turn off shouldn’t be too far off from this one.. what’s the name again?”

The wolf blinked towards Levi for a moment, his brain fighting for its life against his raging fever that flushed his cheeks and forehead, but he slowly began to register the question he was asked. His dim emerald eyes shifted down to the leopard’s phone screen that sat face up on his lap, squinting to try and read the words through his double vision. When he still couldn’t make out the number or the name of the exit, Remi began to get frustrated again, swiping the phone from his lap and bringing it up close to his face.

“Oh, found it..” he mumbled, Levi passing him slightly anxious glances as more and more exits began to fly by their window.

“Okay, it’s.. Hehh..” The canine’s breath snagged sharply, the intense buzz within his nose returning full force.

God, his nose tickled SO damn badly…

As his thick eyelashes began to flutter ever so slightly, he quickly clamped one large hand over his nostrils to squeeze them shut with a loud squelch , although his breath still hitched helplessly while his jaw hung very slightly slacked.

“Hiihhh.. it’s.. f-fuck.. hhheh—hold on..” Remi’s eyes began to water from the effort it took to fight off such an intense tickle that was burning white hot within his quivering nostrils, although still trying his best to do what Levi had asked of him.

Levi’s gaze flashed back and forth between Remi, and the road, even attempting a quick snatch of his phone from Remi’s otherwise occupied hands, but he was unsuccessful. “Rem!” The cat grumbled loudly.

“Th—huhhh.. The n-nehhhh..” the wolf gasped, raising one finger to point out of his window at a passing sign, and Levi thankfully was able to catch a glimpse of it before it flew by their vehicle.

“I turn off on Pacific Road!?” The leopard raised his voice a little in a panic as the exit sign got closer and closer.

The wolf couldn’t do anything other than nod exuberantly, afraid of the repercussions that would come from removing the hand he had pinching his nostrils closed, but as Levi whipped Maybelle around the corner to be able to make the exit, Remi’s hand slipped from its position in order to brace himself on the door of the bus.

As soon as the fresh air flooded into his reddened, sensitive nose, he gasped an enormous breath of air into his lungs, trying to mentally prepare himself for the hammer to the temples.

“hih’AESSSHH’ue!! HA’AETTCCCHH’uh! Hihhh— hiiih’AETTCHH’uh!! Hhah’AETTTSHH’uh!” Remi sneezed so loudly that the bus windows shook, his poor nose desperate for a release, one way or another and eardrums be damned.

The smaller man let out a startled squeal as the whole right side of his body was sprayed by the canine’s mess, flashing a look over at the disheveled wolf riding passenger who was still frozen in place. Both hands were in front of his face, and his long body was doubled up on itself, hugging his own knees with his feet planted on the floor. Remi dared not move, dared not even breathe lest his nose might have something else to say about it. He stayed frozen for so long, that when the leopard finally pulled into the parking lot at the local grocery store a minute later and carefully brought the bus to a stop in one of the parking spots, the wolf still hadn’t even picked his head up.

“Rem? You okay? Those were some pretty big ones..” the leopard’s eyes were filled with concern for his mate as he stretched out one thin freckled hand to rub his mate’s shoulder gently.

Remi opened his mouth to reply, but the scratchiness of his voice overwhelmed his already sore throat, plunging the weakened man into yet another thick, chesty coughing fit that made him tremble slightly from the force. ‘Nnnngh…” the wolf whimpered after a few seconds, followed by a loud snort that still did almost nothing for the congestion packed into his raw sinuses. “Okay.. I gave you directiodns, and dow we’re here… I’b goigg back to bed dow..” he nearly whispered, his head completely reeling and every inch of his body pouring sweat.

The leopard’s face was taken over by an empathetic, caring expression as he eyed his sickly mate, nodding his head in agreement. “Of course baby, thank you so much for your help. Go ahead and go get comfy in bed, and I’ll rent us a couple Redbox movies, and get us some lunch, okay? If you want, I can even rub some of that vaporub on your chest if you think it helped last time?” Levi leaned down to kiss Remi’s very damp forehead, and the wolf sighed happily this time, his gaze slowly raising to meet the icy blue pools of his mate’s.

“I definitely won’t argue with you.. that all sounds so nice..” the large man’s voice was breathy and exhausted, followed by a few loose coughs that didn’t make it out with the others, and a forceful, deep snuffle as he ever so slowly rose to a standing position. As the canine trudged weakly back to bed, he turned just in time to catch Levi as he was pocketing his wallet right before heading out the door.

“Don’t take too long, okay?” Remi called out hoarsely in an uncharacteristically needy tone that made the leopard’s heart almost explode out of his chest with pure love and admiration for the big wolf.

With a thoughtful smile, Levi nodded as he quietly pulled open the door of the bus, the crisp early afternoon air caressing his face as he stepped out. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Acushla…”

The End…

Thank you so much for reading if you made it this far, it really means a lot to me! 🥺🖤

Hope you enjoyed my snz-y, needy boy as much as I enjoyed writing him 🥺

#snzblr #snz ocs #snz #snz kink #snezblr #snz fet #sneeze kink #snzfucker #snz things #snz blog #snzfic #remixlevi #geeziefic #geezieart #geezieoc #snzario #snez fic #sneezefic #sneeze fic #sickfic #sick fic #sicknario #coldfucker #sneezefucker #snzkink #sneezing #sneeze #snz art #snez #snz scenario

[thekinkyleopard]

Hallowsneeze

A Sven and Elex Non-Canon One-Shot

Halloween Fic

⚠️content warning⚠️

Domestic Bullying, Aggressive behavior, Snz Fic,

Degradation, Smut

Description: Sven and Elex are celebrating their first Halloween in the new home! Sven is so excited to hand out candy for the trick or treaters and put on a light show. Although, Elex has come down with something foul. Hoping it’s enough to get him out of holiday festivities, he may not need to try so hard when he realizes Sven’s naughty secret.

Author’s Notes: AHHHH IM SO BEHIND AND HAVE STILL 3 MORE??? I THINK??? Send help. I have goofed. LOL I hope you guys enjoy this next Halloween installment! @aller-geez Owns Sven and did the beautiful cover~

Sven was practically floating around the house with a dreamy look on his animatedly excited face. He had decided to go as a lion this year, his current therapist suggested steering into the whole circus trauma, thing. Though he had been trying to run from it, she suggested it would be therapeutic for him to just do it HIS way. Be appreciated through himself and his partner instead of hoping for his father’s approval. She wasn’t entirely wrong, it was giving him a new sense of power. HE was in charge of this show. He hopped around setting last minute decor up, and fiddling with some of the outdoor lighting for tonight’s show. “It’s gotta be perfect,” his furrowed brows and pursed lips pulling on his facial structure.

"SNNNNNDDFFFFFF... FUCK!" The teal and orange haired male looked up suddenly hearing a distress signal, his cheeks bright red as it almost startled him completely out of his skin.

"Elly?" Sven called out curiously, swallowing the lump in his throat before he came to a stand and began to walk his way over to the source of the sound.

"H'uSSHiew! Unngg..." a loud series of thuds suddenly emanating from the room as Sven got closer and closer. What was happening to his boyfriend in there? Eventually he stepped within the frame of the door and took a good look at his lover inside. Elex was slamming his head loosely against the closet door, costume pieces in his hands as he snuffled and groaned.

"El, what the fuck are you doing?" Now suddenly irritated the other man was harming himself, the cheshire walked closer and put his hands on each side of the other's shoulders. "Come on now, what's gotten into you?"

"That god damn dog, he gave me his fucking disease," The dark skinned man turned around now to face his mate with his swollen nostrils, chapped and desperate for moisture that wasn't just, more snot. His whole body felt like a pressurized jar, the moment someone would twist him, POP. There he would go.

"Okay, well, I'm sure it's nothing a little uh..." trying his best to not get distracted by the way his lover's dual colored eyes looked as they swelled and glassed over.

"H'utTSSCHH'iew!" Elex’s mouth expelled a cloud of mistral spit and ick downward toward the floor from where he was hunched helplessly. Lazily, he brought his arm across his nose wiping it.

"Medicine can't cure..." swallowing nervously as his gaze looked the other up and down, almost...hungrily? What's that about? Elex only noticed as he slowly came to a stand, looking over and able to make note of it for a few seconds before he was trying his best to stop the leaking mess escaping his raw nose. Sven quickly reached over for a tissue and brought it up to his boyfriend’s face. “I’ll get you some tea, and soup made up…can you at least though, still dress up? It’s part of the gig….” He asked with a slightly sheepish grin trying not to be too persistent, trying to keep an aura of concern. However, secretly, hoping to see that same prideful man try to manage through and wiggle into the outfit after all.

Sven could only imagine the Badger in his costume, suffering with his reddening, itchy nose…blowing loudly out in front of him, not even bothering to cover... No! He had to shove those thoughts down. He couldn’t make himself obvious, or known. The embarrassment…he shook his head. “SnDdfF… I am dressed ub…ma’ car theef,” almost incomprehensible in speech, Elex turned to slide his arm across his leaking and sore nose once more as his leaking and irritated eyes looked through the other’s orange ones.

“No…in the costume I picked for us, in your hand,” rolling his eyes impatiently while taking mental notes of how cute, and delicious the other looked while melting into a metaphysical puddle.

“Ugh bud…Ion wanna..” the green haired grump practically stomped and threw a tantrum, something he truly didn’t do often but was hoping could pull the other into submission.

“Baby…please? For the children?” Sven pleaded with his boyfriend, trying his best to get him into any sort of holiday spirit.

“Maaaann…fugg dem kigs…sndfF..” Elex grumbled with a scoff, rolling his own orbs into his skull, the audacity. Why should he care about some snot nosed brats who feel entitled to his candy? Screw em.

“For me, then?” The Cheshire trying a different angle looked at his boyfriend with softer eyes, bringing a hand up to cup his clenching jaw.

“Hnnn…….” Wanting desperately to say no, but they both knew where this was going to land with the look in each other’s eyes. Elex folding like a lawn chair and Sven coming out victorious per usual.

“I’ll see ya out there,” ruffling the other’s dampened green locks. Elex did his best to try and scrap himself up off the wall he was using as support but it was proving to be quite difficult. He turned into an puddle as he lay on his back against it, staring over at the opposite wall with a leaking nose and boiling point flesh. This wasn’t a good look…but he did promise. He groaned loudly, lazily throwing himself off the wall, kicking a foot back to give himself extra leverage.

“Whyyyyy….” He grumbled again, before finally managing to shove himself back to his feet and gripping the costume in his hand he turned to look in the mirror. “Dumb…” he snuffled and shook his head at himself in the reflection. As if he was being held at gun point, Elex began to strip his clothes off and slowly, reluctantly, slide on the ones he was being forced into. “HUH’SHIEW!” It slipped out of him as the shirt he was pulling over his head came off. He wiped it across his face before tossing it to the floor and grabbing the costume.

The material slightly itchy, uncomfortable but, he couldn’t say he didn’t look delicious in it as he slowly peeled it onto his body, and tightened it where it needed to be. He looked divine. Well, if he wasn’t practically on death’s door. He sighed, snagged his previous shirt off the ground once more feeling another oncoming tickle run up his throat and down the bridge of his nose, “HDGXNT!” He used the shirt as a tissue, his fevering head aching while he began to wipe his nostrils against it aggressively. The joints clacking loudly while he did so. He was doing everything in his power to drain himself of any residual leakage.

Almost never ending but eventually he threw the shirt back down onto the floor and looked up at himself in the long length mirror behind their bedroom door. “Oh…” he muttered looking at himself again. From the rubbing, his nose was chafed, starting to peel on the outter ridges. The sparse spaces of white skin reddened in the area around, his multicolored eyes sunken in. He looked tragically ill and he couldn’t figure if that was good for the particular day it was, or just bad. Would kids be able to even tell the difference? Or care? Fixing his hair, to the best of his ability, finally, he slid on the Ring master hat that went with his lion cladded partner. “Thid id cheegy,” his sinuses so plugged he still couldn’t speak clearly without a hindering muffle.

Shaking the messy green locks he couldn’t seem to get right, despite being primped, he stormed his way out of the room. He was never going to feel satisfied with what he saw so he figured he wouldn’t waste anymore time crying about it in the mirror. “Habby?” The badger stood amongst the living space that Sven was going back and forth fixing the decor to. The cat turned on his heels, looking slightly up at his partner then down. Fuck. He wasn’t exactly prepared for just how much it would turn him on to see Elex dressed as a dying ring master. Was it the daddy issues? Circus traumas? The messy hair and eye bags with a leaky nose? Who knows. All he knew was he stepped forward and continued to openly ogle his partner like he was stuck in a vicious trance.

“Very….you look hot,” looking back up again he smirked, Elex could only meet the interaction with a blush so deeply red it couldn’t be missed, and an eyeroll so incredibly dramatic one might be offended. Yet, Sven knew better. He knew that despite Elex’s rough exterior, he was incredibly submissive.

“Ok perv…whad you wand me do do…snDdf,” crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest with a crook of his hip.

“Hmm…Uhh,” Trying his best to rack his brain of the things he needed to get done or let alone just would need help with tonight, finding static. No data. Head empty.

“Well? Spid id oud!! Damb!!” Elex getting impatient threw his hands up now trying to wave them back and forth to bring Sven back into reality from whatever frozen land he’d stumbled into.

“I’m sorry, Els, you just look so damn cute right now,” shaking his head and putting his chin in the crook of his thumb and index. The forest haired male rolled his eyes yet again, putting his hands at his hips now.

“And IB the unwell one…” almost sneering over at his partner, he couldn’t help but tease him and shake his hips back and forth. “Ya like dat? Hm?” Sven could only respond in a laugh as his own cheeks flushed brightly.

“You’re being silly, come on now, we gotta pass out …uhm,” distracted as he watched the badger’s nose suddenly twist, and twitch. Crinkling in tight circles, round and round.

“Hnn..huh..” shaking his head back and forth trying to fight it off to let his boyfriend speak. Useless. “hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!” Elex tried to cover his mouth but didn’t work fast enough as it came flying out of him. A puft of saliva floating amongst the halloween lights of their living room. Sven’s face heated further, he cleared his throat.

“Bless…you…I’m gonna, grab the uh…candy,” he blinked a few times trying to physically push away his growing thoughts as he watched his partner explode out right in front of him. Elex looked up, and he saw it, though a glimpse, that familiar sparkle of hunger behind the Cheshire’s eyes was unmistakable to the badger. Could it be? He wondered as he cleaned himself up the best he could.

Sven left the space and walked into the kitchen, trying his best to get himself under control. “Fuck…what’s wrong with me?” Not completely aware that it was the other’s explosive yet sweet sneezes that was bringing him to his knees. Trying his best to focus on ripping the giant bags of miscellaneous candies, and dumping them into a bowl. Yet, it was following him like a cold, fast traveling ghost.

“HeH’eHDtsh! hIH’IKTSH!…Sev….” He heard the echoing sounds of his boyfriend sneezing as he came down the hall, the sounds only getting louder as the delinquent audibly slucked up the wet filling threatening to spill from his sinuses. Sven swallowed deeply. The badger stumbled into the kitchen and slammed his hands on the counter at the opposite side of his smaller mate. “SVEN!” He furrowed his brows and slurped a pool of spit gathering from under his tongue, down his throat.

“Yes, El?” Trying to keep his composure as calm as he could he also attempted to splash an air of annoyance around it while fumbling with the bags of treat.

“Cad….cad you helb me?” He whimpered rather quite pathetically, catching the Cheshire almost completely off guard.

“Help you with what, Elly?” Now softening his demeanor to consider his boyfriend was actually in fact possibly suffering at this current moment. He stepped closer he reached out to brush a few strands from the other’s deepened features.

“Helb?” He asked almost uncharacteristically gently, his hand reaching up to give the cat a tissue. Sven took one look at the other’s offering and realized just what his partner was asking now. Oh no. There’s no way he could get through something so intimate without revealing a secret. Was nothing sacred??

“Oh…uh…I don’t know about that El….” Hesitating as he stepped back with that same, embarrassed look on his face he usually made whenever Elex was pressingly flirtatious. Ah, so it was true. The badger thought to himself as he watched the other play coy. He’d get it out of him one way or another.

“Pleade? For me? I can’d do id…the germbs…I promide to hand oud candy afder…if you helb~” he sniveled and pouted while glassy brown and mint eyes stared down at the weakening Cheshire. With a hesitant grunt and a shaking hand, the cat took hold of the mulched paper and half crumbling it in his palm brought it up to the other’s nose, loosely at first. Averting his orange orbs away from the other’s, his face practically lit a flame. “Don’d loog away…” the badger grumbled furrowing his eyebrows downward.

“I can’t look at you…” Sven practically whispered, afraid of what might happen if he didn’t use every last strain of his energy to hold himself back. Between the tissue weakly tickling his nostrils, instead of holding them tightly, the taller began to hitch again. Finding this to be less helpful if the cat couldn’t face him.

“B-huh…ut…h’uhTSSCH! God damnb id…LIGE YOU MEAND ID!” He swiftly grabbed Sven’s hand around his own nose and forcibly squeezed, rubbing in circles as the mess leaked onto the softening, now moistened piece of mulch. Relieved he wouldn’t have to touch it himself.

“E-Elex!” The Cheshire suddenly snapped, moving his gaze quickly over to look at the other, immediately frustrated by the badger’s outburst and overstepping their dynamic. “Don’t just take over like that,” he almost growled, as much as he could trying to remain stoic with his bratty boyfriend. He couldn’t deny it was working for him though, between the attitude, the vulnerability and the raging cold there was no way he could hide the obvious.

“Yeah? Mage me stob den..Aren’d you in chaaaaardge? Hm? Probe it,” The Badger now smirked with confidence, oozing with a new found cockiness that threw off the Cheshire, if only a few moments before he was starting to realize that the previous masking had been pointless.

“W-what?” Almost thrown off by the other’s challenging behavior. Oh so he wanted him to assert his authority did he? Cheeky fucking street rat.

“Probe Your— H’TSCHH! —in chardge …-say you, Cold fugger?” The badger repeated himself trying not to let the sneeze detract from the current aura of control he held. He knew Sven’s secret. It was obvious to them both now. Yet, any fantasy of being in charge of this situation was taken back as the cat angrily shot a hand up to grip the other tightly by his thin, darkened throat.

“You’re so fucking smug…this is why I didn’t wanna say anything…you think you can just use it against me,” pushing the other up now against the kitchen counter, his leg between Elex’s. There were random rings at the doorbell, and the chime of small children in unison, but neither could be bothered to attend the trick or treating station. Leaving them open to neighborhood criticism later, but who the fuck cares?

“Yeah? Too fuggin’ bad, huh? You gotta stop keeping secrets,” Elex smirked licking his moistened lips, his elongated teeth sparkling under the kitchen lighting.

“I’m going to punish that putrid fucking mouth of yours,” the badger fully under his skin now, just like he always managed to do. Sven’s gaze unable to be taken off the other’s swollen, glazy features. They were almost too delicious as he could only hope to see him get worse.

“Mm don’d threaden me with a good dime,” pushing his hips down into the cat, body desperate for any sort of friction as the grip on his throat tightened and his cock responded appropriately.

“Oh, never a threat my sweet boy…I only make you promises,” throwing his tented front into the other, grinding themselves together in a slow fashion. “But since you know my secret…I guess I can stop being subtle about it,” bringing his free hand up, his index finger came around to tickle the other’s twitching nostrils.

“Bu-d…you-r hand…” the forest haired male struggled and strained against the prickling that germinated through out the inner nerves of his nose.

“Sneeze through it…I know you can,” Sven replied coldly, his gaze locked on the ever so slight twitch of Elex’s upper lip and corner nostril. The involuntarily way it jumped…the cat swallowed deeply.

“Hu’—H’IKTDXT!” Tossing his head forward as the mess hit the other’s palm, the flesh of it now wet with Elex’s sick as it glistened under the kitchen lights.

“You can do better than that,” barely giving the badger any room to actually release, tormenting him. Sven’s body just pressed closer into the male as his index wiggled rapidly.

“H’DGNXT!! I—“ interrupted quickly by another loud hitch, like a small goblin stealing his sound as he tried to sneeze through being choked. Truthfully though, unable to retaliate due to the current circumstances of his situation.

“Tsk tsk, I thought you were stronger than that, huh?” The Cheshire’s lips pulled up into a confident, side smirk, realizing that even if the bully knew his secret, he was currently in the position of control here.

“Fu—k…y..H’GXT! H'utTSSCHH’iew” Despite his best efforts his body betrayed him through his spiteful comeback of trying to let the other know just how he felt about his inability to defend his reputation and honor. A sniveling, leaking, swelling mess under his partner’s hands instead.

“My pleasure to,” twisting the other around rapidly in one swift motion and quickly flinging him over the counter his hand finally releasing the other’s neck but now gripping a full hold onto green locks while his free hand worked to aggressively pull down Elex’s pants.

“Hey! H’uSSH’hhiew!” Unable to get a full thought out before his sinuses were working aggressively against him, pushing a gust of salivic dust across his own chin and hands, he grumbled weakly after. His fingers tightened against the counter grout while his partner violated him.

“What? Why protest now? You pushed me to get us here, did you not?” He purred seductively into the badger’s sensitive ear, causing the other to shudder and let out an involuntary whimper.

“I-I didn’d expeg you to ged so…persisdand…snnddff…” Elex smirked behind him, pushing his now exposed bare bottom against Sven’s growing and still clothed bulge. The cat’s head fell back for a few seconds, orange orbs rolling into the back of his skull as he enjoyed the slice of pleasure. He didn’t mean to give into his innate desires but god damn did the other bring it out of him.

“Me ??? You’re the one throwing that slutty dripping nose around and openly sneezing into our shared space…in costume no less,” grunting almost angrily, as if they both somehow didn’t contain any ounce of self control in this household.

The Cheshire was past his point, the cat was out of the bag, would Elex possibly use this against him in the future? Absolutely. To get a head of it, he had to make sure he reminded the Badger who’s really in charge here. “If you had,” thrusting his bulge in between El’s cheeks, attempting to rub and tease his mate’s hole. “Any idea what you were doing….”

“I mighd…snDf…h’hih…SShhiew! If I could ged dhis cold under condrol…” he snarfled loudly trying to clear his sinuses but they were just overflowing. His head ached, pounded, body on fire for more than one reason. His thoughts didn’t make any sense and all he could focus on was the pleasure to hurl him away from the throbbing in his head.

Normally he was much quicker with come backs, light on his feet, sassy. Yet between the constant burning in his throat and build up wishing to be loosened, and Sven teasing him, he was completely losing his sense of self.

“Look at you…a mindless moldable pile of goo…you can’t even be a pain in my ass in this state,” he almost snickered maliciously, yet left it at a sneer, and instead started undoing the buttons on his pants.

“Ye-yeah? Wh-whadd’you know? Hm? SNdfff..” the beat red badger retorted back looking behind his shoulder to watch Sven’s hands work quickly at the cloth keeping them apart.

“Oh? I know enough that you’re willingly bent over this counter practically in heat waiting for this dick to be inside you,” licking his teeth as his orange eyes hungrily consumed Elex’s vulnerable position, trembling legs spread with pants halfway down them.

“Well…I mean…I didn’t hab mugh a choide…” the taller smirked at his lover, managing to maintain an energy of seductive mischief while he was still being a smart ass, despite that his body felt like it really could give way any moment. His flesh hot, and his nostrils delicately twitching through each passing second. Yet his body betrayed the words he spoke and Sven could only shake his head with a chuckle.

“Oh? So you won’t beg for it then?” He raised a curious brow, considering the nature of his cock hungry boyfriend, he doubted it. He was willing to put his whole soul on it, fishing his length out of it’s containment.

“No…?” The brown and green eyed male avoided looking back at the other’s skeptical gaze, trying to prove a point, Sven wasn’t sure even Elex knew the point was trying to make. He just knew he was trying to fight off the intrusive need to desperately bounce himself against the other’s now exposed length and also, not pass out. Between adrenaline and fever, everything felt very fast around him. His blood felt like it was gushing through him at 60 mph.

“I think I can get you there,” Sven noticed how quickly and suddenly Elex tried to reserve himself, as if that would give him any sort of leg up in this. Sven gently pressed himself between the crack of his lover’s cheeks.

“Yeah? Bet,” the dark skinned man shuddered weakly, biting his lower lip but still challenging himself to stay clean from begging any further.

“If I win, I not only get to cum deep inside your ass, but you have to wait to cum until after handing out candy, and the light show,” now giving out his side of the ultimatum. They made bets like these all the time. Sven was usually much better at finding out which bets were worth his while enough to participate. AKA which ones were easier to come out victorious.

“If I win, you make ME cumb and cader do my deeds, and I ged do ditshh the kids,” as Elex looked behind him, the two made eye contact and this act alone seemed to solidify their deal. Neither of them ever capable of having any moment that wasn’t a competition between each other.

“You’re an absolute pill, but you’re on, because I already know what needs to be done,” Sven starved off a serious chuckle, but he was incredibly confident he was going to get the other cracked like an egg in no time. It was already in his grasp.

“Whad do yo—“ the dark skinned mate cut off by Sven who leaned in and latched his mouth onto the space just under the badger’s ear, causing the man to freeze completely, his body turning rigid. “W-wa-i….” His legs trembling before the cat took a deep and painful bite into the side of his boyfriend’s soft tender flesh, gripping it, small lines of crimson spilling down his skin. Elex cried out, digging at the stone material under his chipping nails. Subconsciously his hips rolled into the shorter who could only smirk behind the grip his fangs had on the badger. Slowly his hands traveled down the other’s dark and spotted skin.

“See?” Though slightly muffled behind the grip his mouth had on the other, his hands had dipped below the delinquent’s waist to feel Elex’s twitching length, teasing it with feather light touches before ripping away. “Loog ah tha, so needy..” he muttered behind the badger’s bleeding flesh, who could only tremble in response. His arms finally came up, like a backpack almost, he gripped the badger’s shoulders. Using the new leverage to pull him down onto his own rock solid length, grinding the two of them together, there was a collected moan.

Sven slowly increased his speed inch by inch, just sliding his hardened cock across the other over and over as his teeth continued to pressurize, and depressurize. Elex already in a weakened state of being snuffled while whimpering loosely and despite wanting to let this all be over with, and give in, he found himself fighting against two forces of pressure.

If he wasn’t being squashed under the weight of this inconsistent cold, he was wishing Sven was full length deep inside him. Yet he didn’t want to look weak for begging. Although as every second passed it sounded less and less emasculating. “Hnn…Hh’Uh’kSshiW!” He spat again as the sneeze rolled over his wet, plumped lips. He wanted to give in, but caving under the bet within 40 seconds of making it, just felt so fucking pathetic he almost found it paralyzing.

“I love that sound…you’re so sexy when you’re all stuffy, and sneezy…I just want to fill you up and take good care of you,” the cat purred into Elex’s bruising, bleeding flesh, still leaving large, painful nips all across his shoulder there.

“Perv…ert” Elex could only gasp as his body continue to rock involuntarily against his stubborn wishes. He wanted to be petty, pull away, fight the other off, but he was so weak, so easily manipulated in this current state of being. Sven began to up the ante and slid the tip of his length just past his cheeks to rub tenderly at his mate’s puckered entrance. “Oh fuck—ing shit…” hoping if he could just push back enough…

“Aht, cheater,” Sven smirked calling the badger out on his sneaky behavior before yanking him back by his hair, one hand still gripping an ass cheek to keep it spread apart. “Go on, I know you want to, let’s stop playing these games…beg for it,” hissing low from within his throat. Idk new the other was just being stubborn. He loved that only he knew what buttons to press.

“N-n…” already starting his protest..but being interrupted by something much darker than that. As he wanted to push his luck essentially, he suddenly found another sneeze brewing under the surface of his tickling throat. Bubbling up like a fish unwanted in his esophagus.

“Elex Parker,” the Cheshire commanded at first with a very serious, flattened tone. However, when he didn’t receive anything back he looked over to see his boyfriend struggling with a forcible hitch. Jaw slacked open, tongue pulsating in and out of his mouth before soon, he couldn’t contain it.

“H’H'utTSSCHH’iew!” Elex snuffled loudly afterwards, scooping up as much snot and sick back into his body as he could to avoid it making a mess upon the counter. Despite the fact there was a patchwork of spittal spots about.

“Absolutely delightful….but still not what I want…come on, baby, let’s hear it,” the cat leaned in closer to speak the words directly into the other’s ear drum. Elex, despite his protests, couldn’t hold back as he lightly shuddered against the hot air hitting sensitive flesh.

“No..” he sucked in the word, along with his lower lip while he felt his wavering strength slowly give way. He wasn’t going to be able to resist, was he? No…because the more Sven worked to tease him, the more Elex’s imagination ran wild. Knowing full well they were in this particular situation because he had picked on the fact, that he wasn’t the only one attracted to a sick partner. The badger was aware of the slippery slope he was standing on when he made the bet, but didn’t realize how weak he would look..so rapidly.

“Don’t be be like that…” the Cheshire purred mischievously, teeth nipping and grazing across the softened flesh of the green haired man’s flushing ear.

“Hnn..f-fuc…k…okay…pleade…,” he couldn’t withstand it any longer. Seriously? His ears were one of his biggest targets, his Achilles heel…Sven knew it and used it to his advantage every single time, it was almost a curse for the taller bottom.

“Please, what?” Just barely gusting the words above the other’s ear canal, feeling the badger’s body twitch under him.

“Fuc….k…me..” he was almost exhausted, the words came out like broken up static, like he’d ran a full mile within a second and didn’t have time to register. Panting, vigorously, unstoppable as his half lidded eyes slid to the side, trying to get a look at his sadistic partner.

“I can’t hear you, so sorry, what was that?” Trying to play off the role that he was not aware nor capable of tormenting anyone, let alone the love of his life.

“God damb it, Sben FUCG ME!” The impatience that started to bubble up and over take the man pressed against the counter was leaking out into their conversation. This caused the sadist cat to chuckle just barely before his next turn of phrase came out as cold as icicles.

“Why should I?” The silence that filled the room afterwards was thick, one was going to need the sharpest knife to cut through it.

“Pleeeeeade…” it came out in a high pitched whine, almost out of character as Elex could hardly contain himself any longer, tossing the winnings out the window. He backed into the other just hoping to feel anything besides miserable, knowing full well that once he had Sven’s length massaging his walls, there would be some sort of silver lining.

“I don’t know….” The shorter boyfriend chewed on his lip while his orange gaze ran up and down his counterpart’s perfectly spread body, hands exploring, clawing and sliding over it. “I’m not convinced…” clicking his tongue before his hands became nothing but a whisper, and his cock a memory pressed against him. Sven’s body just standing a heated inch away from Elex’s flesh.

“SBEN…I need you…” feeling empty suddenly as the other stood back and away. This was mean. Cruel. Crueler than he had ever been to the cat. “Baby…I’b begging you…” it truly almost sounded like the badge might actually cry, finally, his defeated, lidded and glassy eyes looked behind him to meet with Sven’s triumphant gaze.

“That’s my good boy…assert your feelings, and toss the competition,” the streamer snickered as his hands roughly clawed down the other’s sides to his rear end now, pushing his cheeks apart. The badger could only roll his eyes back while he turned into a puddle upon Sven touching his body once more. Like being splashed with cold water on a scorching hot day. Relief. The cat looked downward long enough to spit a large amount of saliva down against the top of his cock that dripped onto the badger’s hole.

“Ahh~ hnn…~” Elex twitched and whimpered, and before long Sven was able to shove his waiting, wanting cock inside of Elex’s tightened entrance, both of them grunting through clenched jaws as he was filled.

“Never get tired of being inside you….” The aqua and ginger haired male grunted through his tightened teeth.

“I god-…da…sn-Ee…” Elex hesitated and panted through each snap of Sven’s taut and energetic hips. Trying to warn as his body spasmed and stuttered to hold the dribbling snot from his nose and the prickle of release threatening him.

“Please do, I wanna feel you tighten around me…” sliding his palms up and under Elex’s ring master shirt that was still on his body, to tickle the badger’s delicate spine, flattened hands slipping up and down goosebumped flesh. Whilst he continued to push and shove his way through the delinquent’s ass.

“H’…” trying to focus on giving them both what they wanted, but he was so relaxed by the cat’s fingers and palms that the feeling almost subsided away. Spoiler alert, he wouldn’t be so lucky to be cured by gamer cock. No. Instead his body lurched forward violently against the counter, his palms skidding against rough grout and shredding the first layer of flesh. “Heh’EhDTSHhiew!!” It sprung him forth, another layer of spit could be seen in the thin shred of light above them, a line of snot trickling down Elex’s face. He quickly nudged his nose against the fabric of clothing against his shoulder successfully smudging it off his face before his forehead fell against the counter.

Sven watching it all unfold, couldn’t help but fight off a large shit eating grin. It felt so good around his aching dick, the way Elex’s ass tightened quickly and released during the sneeze. He wanted to throw his head back with the largest smile. But he swallowed it. He had to. A grin that big could cause him to disappear and he wasn’t trying to ruin the moment. His lips fell, and his brows furrowed, he snapped forward like all reserve was missing and there was nothing, or no one holding him back. Cause there wasn’t. His cock snapping in and outward, hands keeping him steady with each palm gripping tightly to Elex’s tanned cheeks. “You-…would find a way….to distract me this holiday….” Clenching his jaw, chastising the male below as those tightening walls kept driving him further into insanity.

“I—…” normally he wasn’t so stumped but the badger was so hot for his feline mate that he found himself speechless to retort. “Oops…” was all he managed, causing the cat to hiss almost soundlessly. Bringing one hand up and cracking it back down against Elex’s tight cheek, the male yelped.

“Oops is right….just you wait…” licking his teeth he released the badger’s ass cheeks only to slink his hands up and around Elex’s neck, both palms interlocking together around the taller’s throat. Now using this, as a form of leverage while the green haired male gasped between thrusts. “Fuuuck..that’s gonna make me cum,” grunting past his foul response, the other eagerly shoved his ass backward into Sven’s lustfilled pounds. “Look at you go baby…even when you can’t breathe you still want it…” breathlessly chuckling as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

Elex was fully drooling down the right side of his mouth, cold? Fever? Sneezing? Who? Gone. Illness was misplaced in another dimension because all the badger could focus on was the way his face felt like it might pop if he didn’t get air soon, and also, how badly he wanted to feel Sven’s hot seed overfill him. His nose and mouth leaking fluids while his hips worked to match each stuttering thrust the closer Sven got to the edge.

“Are you ready? Hm, my degenerate little slut? I’m going to fill your hole…” it was almost a miracle either of them could get any coherent thoughts out, let alone sentences but Sven managed as his orgasm built up through him, causing his legs to tremble as he inched closer.

“I—“ The badger stammered weakly, his vision blackened on the edges with Sven’s hands still tight around his neck.

“Hm? Are you?” Knowing full well it was almost impossible for the other to speak but, he’d seen him escape worse scenarios. Plus the cat loved pushing him past his normal limits. How far could he stretch his favorite toy?

“Ye—s…” The dark skinned male choked as his duo colored eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Yes what?” Sven practically spat through a tightened jaw, fingers squeezing impatiently as he drove himself inward to assault and pound at Elex’s prostate.

“Yes…..Sir…!” Whimpering behind the lack of oxygen, his words still escaped and it was enough to send shivers down the cat’s entire nervous system.

“That’s right…” blowing his load inside the badger, but as quickly as he did, he couldn’t relish in it for too long, couldn’t give in. They had made a deal. A bet, and Sven had won. Quickly he pulled his spent length from the other’s puckering, and leaking entrance, the cat yawned and while tucking himself away, stepped back. “Man, that was fucking awesome…ready to hand out candy?” Clapping his hands together loudly once he was all put together again.

“Wh-what?!” Elex shot a look behind himself, legs still spread apart with his pants around his ankles.

“Did you…forget the bet we made? You begged me for cock…ergo , handing out candy,” his hands flattened and moved about in a display from between the two of them and toward the bowl of candy on the counter.

“You’re not even going to—“ quickly cut off as Elex was starting to slowly turn around and come to the realization that, Sven was dead serious in his convictions.

“Sometimes I think we should get you checked for memory loss,” shaking his head back and forth, the cat now crossed his arms over his chest to get a good look at the mess that was his sniveling, wet boyfriend.

“Mem— YOU ASS! I didn’t think you were serious!” Quickly, his cheeks flushed in a brightly embarrassed blush, snatching his pants and pulling them back up over his waist, almost with complete offense.

“Oh so if you had won, would you still be thinking I wasn’t serious??” Sven tilted his head, raising a brow, did the Badger really play him for a fool? So bets only count if he were to have won? Not in this household.

“How was I EVER going to win in that position!?” Elex tossed his free hand up with exasperation as his other made quick work to button and re-zip his pants again.

“You’ve managed you’re way out of prison twice, I would assume…” lifting an index finger to interrupt the excuse but finding himself shortly cut off in the heat of it.

“Different situations, COMPLETELY!” Narrowing his different colored eyes toward the stubborn cat he was suddenly extremely irritated with. How dare he! He was supposed to be at HIS finger tips! How’d it get turned around? This wasn’t the original plan!

“Oh stop your whining and come be apart of the holiday fun,” Sven tried to lighten the mood with a wink, stepping closer to wrap his arm around the other’s thin waist, reaching up to kiss under the heated badger’s jaw. “I’ll nurse you back to health after, ok?” Pulling away slowly, he now took both his hands and scooped them under the candy bowl. He began crossing his way out of the kitchen to open the front door as the bell chimed throughout the house.

“This is bullshit….” Elex grumbled now to himself, this was complete and utter stupidity because he..thought he had a sure fire way out. If not just being sick in general, but having seduced the other….man…this was worse than the American justice system. Somehow he went in fully confident and fucked worse than any state, county or country could.

“Trick or treat!!!” The children echoed from the hall as Sven opened the front door to be greeted with many different masked faces.

“Happy Halloween!” The cat cheered at them, leaning forward to give them free range of the bowl, some taking one, a few taking handfuls or even just a couple a time. The badger sighed, realizing that maybe, he didn’t have to hate Halloween this year. Sure, he felt like garbage now that the ecstasy and adrenaline had worn off, but truthfully, he needed to make new memories over the old ones. So he dusted himself off, cleaned himself up, blew his nose, took a shot of Dayquil and managed to put his best foot forward at having a better holiday spent, with his best friend and soul mate.

The End

Author’s Notes: Beep Boop I’m unmedicated so it’s taking a while to be motivated to write but ayooo I’m here! I did it! 3rd Halloween fic for the month! Unclear if I’ll be able to do every couple this month before it’s November but imma still try! I hope you guys are enjoying them 🥺 written feedback means the world to me and motivates me to write more/faster. Appreciate you guys and your patience 🫶🏻🥰

#original character #oc #writer #fic writer #snzblr #snz kink #smut #Svlex #Sven x Elex #sneezefucker #sneeze oc #sneeze fic #snz fic #snz oc #snzzzzz #snzfet #snz fucker #snz #snzfucker #snz fet #snz things #lemons

[noses-in-winter]

Jack of All Clits (f/f, nsfw, sneezy lesbian porn cranked up SUPER high)

idk what it is but lately I have been INCAPABLE of writing anything that didn't involve a curvy girl sneezing, receiving sapphic head, and climaxing within a few hundred words of each other. This fic just happens to have all of that! Piper's my horny and perpetually stoned bisexual dumbass and Tourm is @virarushi's hot thicc girlboss gnome OC who sneezes about everything and has not yet had her bi awakening! Tourm is 4'5 and Piper's 5'6 so that's fun. :) Here's some art of her because she's hot! Anyway, to summarize: This is a 2.5k word fic in which Piper's going down on Tourm while she sneezes. They're roommates in grad school and Piper prides herself on being able to deliver bi awakenings.

To reiterate: this is nsfw so please do not interact if you're underage!! just block me!! thanks!! okay enjoooyyyyy ty

(Also to my awesome friends who read this in Discord, I DID add a few more horny details, just sayyin...okay anyway tyyy)

Piper was pretty sure Tourm had never climaxed at the hands (or dick, or mouth, or any combo of those things) of another sentient being. Based on what Piper had learned about her new roommate so far (mostly from asking Alexander), college was the first chance Tourm had ever really had to be away from her family’s rigid expectations and watchful eye. The poor bitch hadn’t ever even had her boob squeezed before! And there was a lotta boob-squeezing real estate there!

Tourm’s lack of preconceived expectations made Piper’s job all the easier. Not that she didn’t like a challenge, of course. But, now she could put all her focus into just getting Tourm to--

“Haah--! F-Fuuuuuuucking Void, Pipes…”

--moan, even if it was not done with near the amount of volume that Piper had anticipated. She expected Tourm’s--

“Mmmhhmm--!” 

--sounds of pleasure to be just as loud and take-charge as her sounds of laughter, anger and annoyance. As Piper had quickly figured out, Tourm was not a throw her head back and cry out with every rock of her hips kind of girl. Would have been hot if she was! But Piper also liked Tourm’s brand of quivering through the arousal, letting out steady moans that evidently came right from the g-spot. That was…actually a lot hotter than the first option. Piper didn’t have to keep an ear out for anyone drawing closer to their room. She could just keep making Tourm squirm. 

“Mmmmhfhhh, fuck. Aah--!”

And, Christ, was it fun to make her squirm.

“Mmmn…MMhmm…Fuck,” Tourm exhaled audibly in a proper English accent that could rival Solara’s. Piper didn’t tease her about it the way she normally might. She simply focused on keeping this pelvis-rolling rhythm going. Piper would have commended Tourm for figuring out the desired beat of her drum, were her tongue not occupied with the shorter coed’s labia. With Tourm’s calves draped over Piper’s shoulders and her hips angled upward, Piper went down on her in a very literal sense. Coupled with two pillows beneath the small of Tourm's back to keep her sex elevated, it made quite the memorable impact. It was Piper's go-to move when someone neeeeeded a good mouthfucking the way Tourm did. Piper prided herself on being able to get hookups to forget aaaaall about sheltered upbringings and disappointed families with the use of her nuclear-powered tongue work. 

Piper’s eyes flickered over to her phone, propped up on Tourm’s bedside table. The stopwatch read: Six minutes and fifteen seconds…sixteen…seventeen…Shit! She was running out of time. Time to pull out the big guns.

Thus far, Piper had been using the tip of her tongue to tease at Tourm’s g-spot. As Tourm evidently grew closer and closer to completion, Piper opted to switch things up a bit. She eased her tongue in farther, just enough to rub the stud of her piercing against the roof of Tourm’s cunt. The warm skin of her g-spot was raised, more than already activated with sensitivity and arousal. Judging by the new way Tourm’s thighs trembled around Piper’s ears, the move felt just as good between her legs as she had hoped. 

Tourm breathed heavily, one hand gripping the blankets beneath her while the other had her fingers tangled in Piper’s hair. She continued to groove against her roommate’s tongue in whatever way she could. “ohhh--ohhhFUUuuuuck, Pi---hi-hhh--?”

Piper wasn’t exactly sure what set Tourm off. Most likely, it was just the fact that Tourm was a gnome that simply existed. No matter the cause of the evident irritation in her nose, the first snag of Tourm’s breath sounded confused, as if she hadn’t realized this was coming. Her voice went a touch high with desperation as her nostrils flared, and then rested again, and then repeated the process to the same beat that she panted in. 

Tourm was sure gearing up for one hell of a sneeze that didn’t seem like there was going to be any attempted cover in sight. Piper couldn’t blame her. She was sure that being eaten out was the only thought and feeling and need in Tourm’s head at the moment. 

Tourm’s budding sneezes had her breath seesawing on beat with Piper’s tongue work urging her into the mattress. Finally, Tourm’s whole cunt clenched around Piper’s tongue as she sneezed at last, a cute “hh’chisshiew!” that Piper was more than used to hearing, along with the seeeeveral that always followed. The release peppered her shirt, bare thighs aaaand Piper with the results. Piper made a little noise of surprise when Tourm, fingers still wound in her hair, wound up pushing her face further against her sex. Immediately, Tourm let out a congested little moan, pelvis rising without her control in an effort to receive more and more and more of Piper’s tongue as she geared up for the next sneeze.

 Piper was happy to keep up, but withdrew from Tourm’s sex for just a moment. “Bless you. Sneeze all you need, babes, okay? Just aim somewhere that’s not me,” she teased lightheartedly.

Tourm took in another fluttery sniffle with a dazed nod, unable to offer even half a joking response. She just barely managed to pull the collar of her oversized sleep shirt over her nose with clumsy fingers as she drew closer— 

“hhih!”

 — and closer--

 “h-hehh—!”

 —to sneezing again. 

“hhhh!’chzsshiew!”

After several moments spent in limbo, Tourm’s hips bucked with yet another sneeze. By the sounds of things, this one came with a deluge of mess that was contained to her shirt. She let out a congested exhale that immediately turned into another heady snag of her breath that led to Tourm sneezing twice more. “sszsschiew--adt’chzsschiew!”

Piper opted to take this opportunity to use her thumbs to ease up the delicate hood that protected Tourm’s clit. Piper dipped her head down to greet it with her lips.  “Good giiiiiirl,” she hummed, voice shifting into a little purr as she praised Tourm’s last-minute success of covering her nose as Piper had instructed. “Bless you…”

Tourm gave a close-mouthed little sound of pleasure that could certainly be described as a whimper. Piper couldn’t tell if that was simply out of the stimulation she had been experiencing for the past (one more glance at the stopwatch) seven minutes and thirty-four seconds, or if that praise had done something hot to her. That could be figured out later. Just a little over two minutes left for Piper to push Tourm over the edge of climax. She could so goddamn do this. 

Tourm sniffled heavily with a murmur that probably had some intelligent meaning behind it, but only sounded like horny gibberish to Piper. The self-proclaimed master of orgasms didn’t ruminate on it long. Through the blond curls between Tourm’s legs, Piper took her clit fully between her lips to suck at. She wasn’t surprised by Tourm’s immediate gasp in response, or the needy buck of her pelvis. Tourm moaned through the fabric of her sleep shirt that she had less and less of a hold on as Piper rocked against her rhythmically with every sneeze…

“chissch!”

 And sneeze. 

“ischhoo!”

And a few more sneezes after that.

“iht’chisshiew! F-fucki’g shi--hihh!—kisschiew! hadt’DJISHiew!”

 Each time she geared up for a new sneeze, Tourm’s back arched up from the bed in a desperate squirm before making her buckle again in what looked like the world’s most effective ab workout. Those sneezes were rapidly starting to get away from her. 

“I’m…” Tourm trailed off, dropping her hand from its place of holding her sleep shirt. She instead used both hands to grip the blankets beneath her. Her shirt remained tented, held up only by her nose. That would be changing once she got a few more sneezes out, Piper was sure. Tourm was no longer capable of giving a fuck about a single thing other than her body’s powerful and simultaneous urges to climax and sneeze, sneeze and climax. “I’m g—gonna …hohhhh, fuuuuck….”

“Gonna what, babe?” Piper hummed during a brief pause in her stimulating efforts. “Cum? Or sneeze?”

Tourm gave one shallow nod, evidently an answer to both. Even though the bottom half of her face was covered by her sleep shirt, Piper could see that next sneeze coming from a mile away. Canted eyebrows, a shuddering inhale, the brief, sudden stillness of Tourm’s legs draped over Piper’s shoulders--

Haaaht--?!”

Oh, this was gonna be messy--

“CHIZSCCHhoo!”

Tourm sneezed. Productively, if the sudden splatter of wetness from the inside of her top gave any indication. Dampness bled through the cotton, turning the plain heather gray t-shirt into more of a slate color in several spots. Tourm snuffled and got a fistful of the shirt, drawing it up to scrub at her itchy nostrils. Piper could only see the underside of Tourm’s tits shifting, quivering along to the movement of the rest of her body, as well as the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. Piper didn’t bless her this time, simply choosing to hum as she tended to Tourm’s clit. This felt nice, apparently, judging by the shivering clench of Tourm’s thighs. Piper needed no further encouragement to keep humming and teasing and sucking until Tourm’s head pressed back into her pillow. The tip of her nose was perfectly perpendicular with the ceiling, reddened nostrils flaring as she came--

“OhhHHHHFFFffuuucuuuccckkkk….”

--hard with a shuddering moan that squeezed Piper’s ears between her thighs. Fuck yeah! She was so gonna win---

Nope. Ten minutes and twenty-eight seconds. Fuck! So close! Piper had nothing to complain about, though. That was fun. And hot. Super, actually fucking hot.

 Unable to properly tend to her clit anymore with how tightly Tourm’s thighs held her, Piper instead moved back down to Tourm’s labia. She delivered a few finalizing strokes with her tongue to Tourm’s heated sex as it pulsed rhythmically with the highs of orgasm. Tourm was quiet for several moments as she collected herself, save for heavy inhales and exhales, before she let out a little noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a laugh once Piper’s tongue piercing massaged along her…shit, what was that part called? Her fourchette? Something French, Piper remembered, but she didn’t spend long on remembering the name. She simply continued with her tongue’s easy kneading of this evidently pleasurable (and ticklish) spot.

Tourm slowly untensed, legs remaining draped over Piper’s shoulders. Her hips continued to move lazily in response to the stimulation of her fourchette, but in a more relaxed way that suggested she was simply enjoying this little pleasure, even if she was still too sensitive to achieve orgasm again. She sniffled, palming the underside of her overstimulated nose. “Okay…Fuck. I gotta give it to you, Twintails. That…wasn’t bad,” Tourm chuckled, her accent slowly shifting back to that Cockney she always aimed for. She sniffled again, reaching for the box of Kleenex on the nightstand. She drew it closer to her, setting the box on the comforter as she plucked out several tissues. “Guess you’re--sdf! Good at more than just settin’ shit on fire and annoyin’ Moseley with me.” 

Tourm buried her nose into the tissues and delivered the first few seconds of a hardy blow before she was interrupted by another sneeze. Ope--and then two more. Piper gave Tourm’s sex one last parting little lick before easing back, wiping her mouth (and cheeks…and chin...and nose…Jesus, Tourm had been soaked) on her sleeve. She stood, easing Tourm’s legs down from their resting place on her shoulders to retrieve her phone from the nightstand.

 Tourm sniffled into her now-useless tissues, looking up at Piper with cracked, teary eyes. “I win?” she asked with a smirk that promptly collapsed into a sneezy snarl--

“adt'IZSSCHSHuh!”

-- that resulted in another heavy sneeze all down her shirt. Tourm grimaced, making a little noise of disgust as she moved to a sitting position and saw just how thoroughly peppered with sneezes both the inside and outside of her shirt were. “Eugh. Gross.” 

Piper snorted with a little smirk of her own as she started for Tourm’s dresser. “Bless y--”

“’chzsshiew!”

Piper gave an impressed whistle as she opened the top drawer, rifling through Tourm’s various shirts. She didn’t look at Tourm just yet, but it was audible in that grumbled snuffling that that sneeze hadn’t been pretty. Piper couldn’t help an amused little smile to herself as she picked out a new top for Tourm. She unfolded it, giving the garment only a brief look before shaking her head and beginning to fold it again. Way too tight for comfortable sleep. Piper did like this shirt, though. If her tits were half as impressive as Tourm’s, she would have been wearing it every other day. “Bless you, infinity. Get ‘em out, babe.” 

Tourm snorted ticklishly, knuckling at one nostril through her bundle of tissues. She blew her nose and actually managed to finish without being interrupted by a sneeze. “So?” she asked with an amused smirk in her voice. “I won, right?”

Piper rolled her eyes fondly, examining another shirt. Nope. Fabric was way too thin for a chilly April night like this. “Fiiiine. Yeah. Just by, like, twenty seconds, though. I’m sure I would have made it without those several sneezy disruptions, but I’m no sore loser.”

“Hah!” came Tourm’s little snicker. “You owe me fift--sdff! Ugh…F-fihh--hihh! I--”

Tourm sneezed behind Piper’s back, another productive sound that had her groaning again in the aftermath. Once Piper turned back around, a perfect sleep shirt in hand, Tourm was already pulling her messy top off. She removed her shirt the way a guy might, Piper noticed, pulling it up from the back. She wiped her nose with it before giving it a lazy toss to the carpet. Tourm leaned back slightly in bed, supporting herself with both hands as she sniffled. Piper, the slut she was, could do absolutely nothing but stare at the way the evidence of all of those sneezes just made Tourm’s tits shimmer in the lamplight. And then how they--

“Hhh--! hadt’DJISHiew!”

--bounced with another heady, uncovered sneeze that simply provided the same glitter-esque shine to her chest. She let out a stuffy exhale in the aftermath that sent a bolt of horny lightning down Piper’s spine. That…really had sounded like another moan, hadn’t it?

Damn it. She wanted to make her moan again. 

“Double or nothing.” 

Tourm looked at her with a cocked eyebrow, tits settling after that shivery sneeze. “Huh?” Piper didn’t even hand Tourm the new top, simply tossing it to a cluttered desk. She made her way back to Tourm’s bed and took her by the bicep with one hand lightly enough that Tourm could move away if she wasn’t into it. “Lemme try again,” she said, more of a command than a request. “Double or nothing if I can do it in eight.” 

Judging by Tourm’s expression, she very much was into this. Piper took this as a cue to ease her free hand to cup Tourm’s warm, damp tit. Tourm evidently couldn’t help a quivering little exhale, lashes fluttering as Piper thumbed her nipple. Just as Piper would expect her to, though, Tourm immediately shifted her look into one of cockiness rather than the evident need that was there.  “You’re on.”

#sneeze kink #sneeze fic #not sneeze for work #oc piper #friendsocs #pls go follow vira!! her art and characters are the best and inspire me so

[nametakensff]

Happiness (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

Final part of my little three fic series - here is the follow up to 'Revelation' and...it's a monster. 17.4K. If you actually manage to stick with it all then I commend you <3

K/im angrily confronts H/arry about his inappropriate conduct. H/arry reluctantly reveals why. Fucking ensues

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, past M/F, hinted past M/M if you squint, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, K/im is a kinky motherfucker, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, manually induced sneezes, rapid sneezes, mentions of dust allergy sneezes, sexual fantasies, masturbation, hand jobs, dry humping, frotting, finger sucking, mentions of anal sex, mentions of blow jobs, some mild mess, spray, sneezing on someone, licking spray off fingers (sorry lmao), edging, (brief) orgasm denial, elements of domination/submission, some voyeurism/exhibitionism, verbal teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, embarrassment/humiliation, graphic descriptions of semen, crying a little during/after sex (guess who), K/im and H/arry like each other a lot more than either of them realised

CW: (unintentionally perceived) public masturbation, drug and alcohol mentions, potential heart attack mentions, potential priapism mentions, bullet wound mentions, self-hatred, H/arry is still a mess, internalised homophobia, H/arry experiences a lot of shame re: the fetish and describes himself with degrading language, K/im is perhaps a little too forward initially, mentions of dead bodies (in a murder investigation / gallows humour way), mentions of potential STDs (K/im is just being cautious)

Notes:

Takes place in the canon game timeline so again, please don't read if you don't want spoilers!

For the sake of the fic, the bed in the coastal shack is a proper single large enough for both of them to lie on and the room has a working sink. I had to let these men clean themselves up

K/im should not be doing this with a concussion but. It's my fic, so

EXTREMELY NSFW - Minors DNI!

It has been at least five days since you first touched yourself to the thought of Lieutenant Kitsuragi sneezing. You have touched yourself in a similar fashion every night since – up until a bullet to the thigh and your subsequent fevered unconsciousness prevented you from doing so. You did not mean to make a habit of it, but the orgasmic release the thoughts ultimately lead to is almost as addictive as any drink or drug. The fact that the Lieutenant has sneezed multiple times each day in your presence has made resisting your nighttime jerk-fests damn near impossible.

The fantasies have evolved into an increasingly varied (and sordid) collection of scenarios. Your favourite is the one starring Kim as your butler, burying his face into a feather duster to alleviate his allergic misery by inducing an endless series of sneezes. Naturally, you play the role of the voyeuristic employer, watching the scene unfold from your grand office chair and stroking your cock until you cum all over the hardwood surface of the desk that Kim has just finished cleaning. It is incredibly self-indulgent and fantastical, which naturally makes you cum with the force of a firehose. Every morning it is a little more difficult to look the Lieutenant in the eye. He is completely innocent to your sins, and you are a filthy pervert.

You still have your cold. Now that you have returned to the fishing village with the fierce seaside air whipping at your face, your nose runs without cease. You have been using an endless supply of Frittt brand pocket tissues, having abused Kim’s loaned handkerchief so much so that not an inch of fabric has been left unsoiled. Your nostrils are tingling, threatening to flare with every laboured snuffle.

It really isn’t a terrible cold – but it appears to be a persistent one. You’ve certainly sneezed far more from previous illnesses. One cold in your thirties left you bedbound and sneezing almost like clockwork – you had noticeable abs, then. You remember this, and you remember thinking to yourself that the torso-crunching sneezes that barrelled out of you were just as effective as any targeted exercise.

The persistence is one thing. The suggestible nature of your cold sneezes on the Lieutenant is another. You had both been good-natured about this admittedly comical routine, in which you try not to sneeze, fail, and sneeze anyway – followed immediately by Kim in a near-identical fashion. Today has been a difficult day, however – you are drawing closer to the end of your investigation, and you are both exhausted. Objectively absurd though it may be, neither of you can any longer find much amusement in these twin responses. Neither of you bless each other. The most excruciating (meaning: cock-teasing) thing of all is that Kim has abandoned any attempt at holding back. He is more and more frequently sneezing openly, or in the general direction of his fist – a lazy covering at best, doing little more than dousing his gloves in a delicate burst of spray.

Actually, there is something that arouses you more. As Kim continues to sneeze, his immaculate composure begins to falter. You are not referring to the ways the sneezing overpowers him. It is more so the fact that following each sneeze, the Lieutenant has started to moan. Quiet, shaky sighs at first – now full-blown groans of exhaustion - and what you hope is an element of indulgence at the post-sneeze sensation of relief. They sound practically orgasmic to your one-track mind.

Try as you might, every time the Lieutenant sneezes and sighs, you grow hard. It is perhaps more accurate to state that you have spent more time hard than soft. You wonder if this is enough for you to start worrying about a potential case of priapism. It is rather impressive – at your age and with the recent blood loss you experienced. Perhaps you ought to embrace this as a display of virile masculinity.

Either way, you have very little way of masking this unfortunate physical response. You shuffle awkwardly – you have also tried tucking your cock upwards and into the waistband of your trousers. You are almost one hundred percent positive that Kim has seen you pawing at your responsive genitals more than once but seems to be intent on ignoring it. You understand. You’re not sure how you would address the situation were you in his position. You ought to be more embarrassed but the triple combination of illness, drug withdrawal and injury saps you of fucks left to give.

You have no time to stew in your own thoughts. You are here to ask Lilienne if you can borrow her boat to get to the Islet. You manage to do so and almost leave the interaction unscathed. Almost.

“HAAAAEEEISHHHH!! EISHHHHHhHhuu!!”

The tickle once again renders you helpless and you sneeze twice – loud enough to send a nearby seagull sky bound. You turn away from Lilienne just in time to spare her an unfortunate baptism. The post-sneeze ecstasy leaves the skin of your forearms breaking out in goosebumps, hidden by the sleeves of your Disco blazer. It takes all of your remaining composure to fight off a full-body shiver. You straighten up sheepishly and wipe the result of your sneeze out of your moustache with a crumpled tissue. A blush is creeping over your face. Making a disgusting spectacle of yourself in front of a woman you have attempted at least four times over the past couple of days to ask out on a date (to no avail) does nothing for your morale.

“Bless you, officer!”

You mutter a small thank you from behind the tissue. If your dick hadn’t already been hardening in anticipation of Kim’s reciprocal reaction, that enthusiastic blessing would have done the job. Speaking of the Lieutenant – Lilienne has barely finished addressing you when he spins around – gracefully, controlled and completely balanced, unlike your own frantic whiplash motion – and sneezes thrice uncovered into the cold sea air.

“Hhp’Tsschhh! hHD’Tschh!! Hh! HahHD’Tzshiew!! Ahh, mon dieu…”

They sound like they feel incredible. Before you can do anything to avoid it, you are mentally constructing a detailed visual of the sneezes that the Lieutenant’s expert timing and manners had prevented you from witnessing. What do you expect after committing every sneeze you have glimpsed to memory to then masturbate to with vigorous abandon? Your prick is like iron between your legs. Lilienne turns to Kim with a look of surprise.

“And bless you too, officer! I don’t like the sound of that.”

Whatever Kim is saying to her in response, you miss. Your focus is lasered in on the tip of his nose, moving slightly side to side as he tends to his nostrils with a neat blue handkerchief. You want to be holding that handkerchief for him. Better yet, you wish it was your own hand wiping his nostrils clean. Thought after lewd thought overpowers you. You are painfully hard.

You should really rearrange things down there before Lilienne notices your erection to end all erections. You cup yourself as subtly as you can manage – you’re not sure what you’ll be able to achieve stood mere feet away from the two of them. The waistband trick requires two hands – maybe if you were to turn around?

Before you get a chance to try, Lieutenant Kitsuragi has fixed his eyes on you. You freeze in your tracks, as if paralysed by his gaze. A distinct feeling of combined shame and guilt overcomes you, not unlike the way a child feels when caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Except you are not a child – you are a 44-year-old man, with his hand on his cock. His eyes flash down to your crotch almost imperceptibly before returning to your face, darting about as if in attempt to locate any  visual cue that may implicate whether you have indeed gone batshit insane. It is likely a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity as you watch the subtle shifting of his facial features through a spectrum of confusion, shock, disbelief, shock again, and finally – rage.

This anger is unlike anything you have seen pass over the Lieutenant’s face in your week together. It sends a spear of utter self-hatred straight through you. You really have reached an all-time low, Harry-boy.

Lilienne appears not to have noticed the intense stare-off between the two of you – likely because it has lasted approximately 1.5 seconds and is broken by Kim thanking Lilienne for her cooperation and asking that she excuse the pair of you for a moment. His gloved hand reaches out and grips your bicep, hard enough to hurt. Anxiety overwhelms you – he is mad mad.

He marches you the short distant to the shack you have been staying in, shoves you through the door and follows behind you. He does not slam the door, although you can make out enough tension in his slender frame to see that he would very much like to do so. The screech of the rusty hinges is more than enough to amplify your anxiety. He turns to face you, and you shrink in on yourself, feeling naked and exposed within the shooting range of his ire. Your legs are weak – particularly the one in which a bullet had been embedded. You sit on the edge of the small bed and watch him watching you. He looks for a moment like he may be too angry to speak. At last, he opens his mouth.

“What the fuck is the matter with you??”

The Lieutenant’s thick accent and heightened emotions intensify the remark. You are sweating. Shame practically radiates off of you. You’ve truly done it now. You say nothing in response to him, hanging your head in misery. He continues.

“I have been nothing but supportive of your unconventional methods of policing. For all the outrageous things you have said and done, you have genuinely done some excellent work. I have given you the benefit of the doubt for your drug problems, the amnesia, your emotional outbursts - but public masturbation? In front of a female citizen? You really are a piece of work.”

Your face burns. Every word aches, cutting into you like a blade and whittling you down into a hollow receptacle of disgrace.

“I wasn’t – I wasn’t masturbating!” These words tumble out of your mouth before you have a moment to reconsider. The Lieutenant glares at you, clearly not buying it, but he makes no move to cut you off. Your mouth is dry and your hands are shaking. You open your mouth again.

“I was trying to…relieve some pressure. I wanted to hide it. I didn’t mean for you - or Lilienne - to see...”

Your voice sounds reedy, pathetic – incriminating. Maybe if you could stop sweating like a pig, you could actually convince Kim that you are not a sex pest. Shockingly, something in your expression as you look up at him with pleading, frightened eyes convinces him to believe you. He blinks owlishly, then reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He sighs, a deeply exhausted sound – it seems to physically deflate him, as if the tumultuous anger trickles out of him with the exhale. You watch, clutching your hands together nervously, as he removes his glasses all together and drags a hand down over his face. It rests on his mouth for a few moments longer, and then he is putting his glasses on and looking at you with a mixture of exasperation and pity. His eyes are the first to dart away from your exchanged glance. He clears his throat. You wait.

“I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but…Listen, detective, do you-? Need some time to yourself? I’ve noticed you’ve been tense. I thought it might have been your injury, but I suppose I was wrong. At this point…” He hesitates, clasping his hands behind his back. “At this point, having a moment to relieve yourself might actually be pertinent to the progression of the investigation.”

It is your turn to blink, dumbfounded at what you have just heard. Is Lieutenant Kitsuragi actually suggesting you should jerk off? And that your jerking off is of utilitarian necessity? You should confirm this.

“You want me to whack off so that I can focus on the case?”

He looks pained by your turn of phrase; it is much harder to feign professionalism when his own suggestion is bounced back at him in cruder, less obfuscating language. He nods all the same and clears his throat.

“If you think it will help, I will excuse myself and be back in-” He glances at his sports watch. “Twenty minutes.”

Wow. Twenty minutes is probably a whole nineteen minutes too generous given your current state of rampant and unforgiving arousal. The way the Lieutenant falters indicates, however, that he is doubtful of your capability to achieve orgasm even once. You can’t really blame him. He did admit to thinking you were well into your fifties. You nod your head.

“You’re unwell, and injured – I don’t think it would do you any good to continue working this case when you’re also so – distracted.”

He is actively skirting around the issue and choosing his words carefully. It doesn’t change the fact that he is recommending that you pleasure yourself whilst he awkwardly stands outside and waits for you to finish. This makes you visibly cringe. Your own embarrassment only fuels the Lieutenant’s. He clears his throat again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He takes your silence as an indication of consent.

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it, officer.”

You watch helplessly as he turns to make an exit. Before the Lieutenant is even able to grasp the door handle, however, you hear a frantic intake of breath. Fuck. There is no mistaking the sound of the Lieutenant fuelling up for a sneeze – but this time it occurs with no prompting on your part. He is clearly very sensitive today.

“hHupt’TSSCH’uu!! Merde…”

You watch it all go down – the way his slender frame shudders, shoulders jumping as he is temporarily unbalanced by the voracity of his own release. It isn’t especially loud, but you can tell that it is powerful. You bite your lip. Do not moan. I repeat – do not. Moan.

You moan. It seems violently loud in the small room. Both of you freeze in response. If you didn’t want the ground to swallow you up before, you do now. Despite the humiliation, the utter mortification of it all, your cock is leaking through the fabric of your trousers. Maybe Kim, still facing away from you, will think you have already started working on yourself, and will simply step outside and pretend he doesn’t share the same planet as you for another twenty minutes. Crisis averted.

Luck is not on your side. The Lieutenant turns around. He is looking at you as though studying a particularly challenging crossword puzzle. Were he a dog, his head would have been tipped inquisitively to one side. You are sweating bullets.

“You know, detective…” He starts, and you do know. It is over. You know he has put two and two together. In a way, it is surprising he hadn’t clocked on sooner, but you imagine this is due to his general acceptance of your sporadic and unpredictable behaviour as a rule of thumb.

“If it didn’t sound so ridiculous, I would think…no.”

He turns to leave again. This should be an auspicious turn of events for you, but for whatever reason, you feel disappointed. Burdened. You realise you want the relief of exposure, like a sinner spilling his guts in confessional. You should keep your mouth shut and wank your miserable cock in peace.

“You’re right.” You groan. You do not look at him as he turns to face you. “I’m sorry.”

Was that worth it, Harry? Was it really worth it to confess? You can only wait for his response in silence. You aren’t breathing. You’re convinced that if you breathe, it will scare him away.

Since you are not looking at the Lieutenant, you do not see the expression of contemplative fondness on his face, nor the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. He is taking in the sight of you, curled in on yourself like a naughty child. You hold yourself rigid as he starts to speak.

“So you mean to say – that when I sneeze…?”

Just hearing that word enunciated in his soft, enquiring tone is enough to trigger another rush of blood to the face. It is a miracle there is enough left north of your belt to do so. You whimper, which only makes you blush harder, and nod your head in way of response. This is pure torture.

“Hm.” The small sound that leaves the Lieutenant is a cross between a huff of laughter and a hum of consideration. Your eyes swivel up to meet his own. You had expected disgust, reproach – not amusement. He is smiling ever so slightly – the corners of his mouth are turned up as he takes you in, arms crossed over his chest. He no longer radiates waves of irritation and confusion. The man before you exudes confidence and control. Your cock throbs shamefully and deposits another glob of precum into your underwear. You open your mouth to speak, but words fail you.

“You really are an interesting man, detective. I’ve never even heard of this particular fétiche before.” His words must trigger a sudden realisation in him. A look recognition passes over his features, and you know he is connecting the dots – looking back at all your behaviour this past week and re-contextualising it. He snaps a thumb and forefinger together. “This makes perfect sense.”

His scholarly enthusiasm is somehow unsettling to you, as if you are a specimen he is examining. You now regret disclosing this sordid piece of information. What had you been expecting, really? For him to put on a show for you, like one of your sick little fantasies? Stupid. You hang your head.

“Yes, I’m a huuuuge pervert, Kim. Now please leave me alone to my shame.”

Oh god, are you going to cry? You’re actually going to cry, aren’t you?

“I never said that, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” His tone is suddenly overwhelmingly gentle. It only makes your eyes prickle harder with tears, threatening to overflow. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He means it, too. He sounds incredibly regretful, perhaps even a little pained. You can’t look at him, but his palpable remorse at unintentionally beating you when you are down seems to open the floodgates. You feel the reluctant confession blurting out of you before you’re even entirely sure of what you’re going to say.

“I forgot about it, like everything else. Until I didn’t. Until you…” You wind your hand through the air.

“Sneezed?” Kim fills in helpfully, though you wish he hadn’t. It goes straight to your cock.

“…Well, I suppose in a strange way I ought to be flattered.”

You do look at him now, and see him smiling at you supportively. He looks a little apprehensive – but who wouldn’t in this ridiculous situation. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. A single tear runs down your cheek as you blink. You’re about to say something really, really stupid.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

God, Harry. Stop. Stop now.

“Thinking about my – my sexuality. And what it means. And you told me you’re a member of the ‘homosexual underground’. I – I think I might be too.”

The Lieutenant looks back at you, wide-eyed. You need to abort this. Kill him. Kill yourself. Anything that stops you in your tracks.

“I mean, I might be a partial member. I like women. I…there was…someone. She smelled like apricots and – oh, god-!”

A wave of sadness engulfs you. You start to sob, uncontrollably, like a little boy, and cradle your head in your hands. Wow. You really nailed it, Harry. You sure don’t do anything in half measures. You told him his sneezing gets you hard, that you have an inexplicable man-crush on him, and you even threw in an ex-woman-person reference to spice it up, all before crying! You should write a book on how to be the biggest fuck up known to man.

The bed dips as Kim comes and sits beside you. He rests a tentative hand on your shoulder. It is awkwardly limp – he is uncomfortable with physical displays of affection. Something tells you he has not touched somebody conciliatorily in a long time, likely by choice. But he is trying, and that is more than you could have ever expected you deserve. You cry a little harder.

“Harry,” he sighs. “You’re overwhelmed right now. Don’t force yourself to think.”

Ordinarily, he would have followed this with some comment about focusing on the case over personal matters. That he doesn’t shows you how much empathy he is affording you in this moment of distress.

Your crying eventually begins to taper off into little gulps and hiccups as the Lieutenant rubs tiny, tentative circles into your shoulder. Incredibly, your dick has barely softened.

“I’m –! Sorry-!” You gasp out. It sounds pitiful, almost hysterical. Kim just continues to rub your shoulder until you run out of steam entirely, before handing you an opened pack of tissues to clean up your face. As you do so, he takes the opportunity to speak.

“As far as sexual fetishes go, detective, this one is pretty tame. Harmless. A little unsanitary, maybe, but not without a certain appeal.”

You pause in your ministrations. He notices and seems suddenly ashamed by his own forwardness. He clears his throat and retracts his hand.

“Khm. Anyway – as for the homosexual underground – or bisexual underground, as the case may be for you…It certainly isn’t a crying matter. It can, at times, even be fun.”

Ooh, the Lieutenant’s got jokes. You appreciate this reassurance. The crying has left you wiped out and extra sniffly. You have to blow your nose in four different tissues before the congestion subsides. Kim doesn’t flinch at the gurgling sounds you produce.

“I’m going to leave you alone for a while, like I said.” Kim utters after a couple of moments of silence.

As the Lieutenant stands, a foreboding sensation of fear washes over you. You do not want to be alone right now. Before you can stop yourself, you are reaching out at lightning speed and gripping his wrist with one huge paw, halting his departure. Kim freezes and looks down at you. You stare back up at him. His face shifts through a series of emotions before solidifying into an impassive mask.

“Officer. You need to let go.”

There is not contempt in his tone, but his voice is firm and commanding. You are compelled to release him. You do not stop looking up at him. You have no idea what kind of face you are making, but it is apparently making it very hard for him to withdraw the way he had intended. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are burning.

He is the first to break eye contact with you. He strides towards the door and opens it in one swift motion, hesitating for just a moment to look back over his shoulder at you, and then he is gone. The door closes behind him with a decisive click.

Well. That was horrible. You are dejected and alone. You have driven the Lieutenant away, finally. Rejection stings in your throat and swollen sinuses. And you are still. Fucking. Hard. The brief respite of a mind-numbing orgasm might give you fifteen to thirty seconds of ecstasy before the pain sets back in. At this point, bereft of narcotics and alcohol, you will take it.

You flip yourself onto your back, pushing your head into the flimsy pillow and opening your fly with fumbling hands. You manage not to injure yourself as you pull your throbbing cock out of your underwear. It is a deep shade of red, almost nearing purple in your desperation, and even as you wrap your fingers around it in a familiar grip, it drools clear liquid from the sensitive head. You cannot help yourself. Now that you have started stroking and pulling, rubbing the copious precum all over your length, you cannot stop. The shame and the sadness recede at the pure animalistic pleasure of it all. Your head falls back and you moan. One of your hands reaches up to squeeze a nipple through the cotton of your shirt, and you gasp.

It will not take you long. You feel the heated pressure building inside of you, your cock twitching as you caress it in all the ways you like best. Pure, mindless masturbation. You do not want to think thoughts, but you are about to. They skim the surface of your consciousness – your fantasies, some memories. They blur together in a miasma, barely comprehensible the way you dart back and forth between them, but they are turning you on all the same. You are so, so close. Your mouth tips open in a pre-orgasmic moan.

The door of the shack slams open, and the shock nearly makes you orgasm on the spot. The Lieutenant is cursing and closing the door behind him, making sure to lock it. You push yourself up and fumble your dick back into your underwear, hissing as you attempt to close the zip of your fly. It is impossible, so you hold your hands sheepishly in front of your crotch instead. Kim watches you, an intense expression of – need? Desire? Surely that isn’t the case. You can barely think straight. You swallow, head spinning.

“Kim, what-?”

Your words set the Lieutenant’s in motion. He all but lunges at you, pushing you back on the bed and partially straddling you. Your hands fumble to grip at his waist, steadying yourself as the bedframe creaks violently at the activity. It occurs to you for a split-second that the elderly washerwoman outside may be able to hear the ruckus you have been making from where she sits tending to her clothes – she may be blind, but she is certainly not deaf. You banish the thought with a rapid blink of your eyes.

You look up at Kim in sheer disbelief. He is breathing heavily – not nearly as heavily as yourself, almost panting on the brink of orgasm – but heavily, nonetheless. His hands grip your shoulders firmly, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth whilst his eyes rove over your face. And then he is leaning forward and kissing you.

For a moment, your mind short circuits. Not in a million – no, a billion-trillion – years, did you think the past week had been leading up to this moment. The Lieutenant’s lips are wonderfully soft as he works them against your own. It takes a couple of seconds for you to relax, shocked as you are, but then it is electric and instinctual and you are moaning against him, yanking his pelvis down against your own. You open your mouth and his tongue slips in immediately, and then it is even better. You both groan in tandem, as if neither of you can believe how good it feels. The kiss is like a practiced dance – you both know when to bite, when to suck, when to pull back and when to dive deeper. It is simultaneously saccharine and downright fucking filthy. You cannot believe the pair of you haven’t tried this before.

Kim breaks the kiss, sucking on your tongue before pulling back with a lewd pop – you chase him but he holds you in place by your chin.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes dart nervously back and forth behind the thick lenses of his glasses, slightly foggy where your activities have steamed them up. You lunge forward, intending to show him just how much you want this with another kiss, but he manages to hold you back. He is deceptively strong.

“I need to hear you say that you want this.”

He sounds so, so desperate. You realise right then and there that you are a fool for him.

“I want it.” You breathe out, and before you have even finished he is kissing you again. Your head reels, and you feel yourself beginning to tip back onto the bed. Kim goes with you, kneeling with a leg on each side of your torso. He presses the length of his body against your own, and you feel his hardness pressing against the soft flesh of your gut. Your hands travel up and down his back, frantically, squeezing his ass one moment and gripping his shoulders the next. Your cock pulses and pulses between your legs.

And then you feel it. The tickle. You have ignored it for far too long. All that crying and snorting has left you vulnerable to future attacks. All it takes is for one poorly timed deep breath through your nose as Kim explores your molars with his tongue, and you know you cannot fight it. You yank your head back, eyes beading with tears and face cringing in pre-sneeze agony. The resulting sneeze is going to be monstrous – more so than usual. Your lungs suck in a desperate inhale, chest expanding against Kim’s and raising him a good inch higher above you. He seems to understand all at once, angling his face as far away from your own as he can.

You manage through sheer willpower to tilt your head in the opposite direction and over the side of the bed. It tears out of you in a cloud of spray - an angry, irritated explosion.

“IIIIEEESSSSSHHHHTTTtt!!!”

Your hands squeeze reflexively at Kim’s hips. The intensity of the outburst shakes the both of you and the creaking bedframe. Fortunately, you have not pulled any muscles as you awkwardly crane yourself away. The Lieutenant scrambles for purchase atop you, reaching out to steady himself with one hand on the wall.

Your head has barely flopped back onto the pillow before you are cringing with a second, even deeper breath. Your nostrils flare wide in preparation, and you do the whole thing all over again.

“HHHAEEEEEESSSSSCCHHHHHhhh!!!”

You do not have enough energy to be embarrassed by the roaring, desperate nature of them. It felt so fucking good to let it all out. The tickle must have been brewing for some time and you had simply been too distracted to realise. You groan a little, reaching up with one hand to rub your tingling nostrils on the skin of your wrist. You mutter an apology under your breath before angling upwards, pressing your lips to the Lieutenant’s and resuming the kiss.

When he pulls back mere seconds later, you are terrified that you have disgusted him with your indulgent display. And then you remember.

Kim sits back, resting his ass on your pelvis and nudging up against your cock. You gasp as he shifts, clutching his hips hard enough to leave bruises. He calms your squirming with a hand to your chest, holding you down on the mattress. His expression is deeply irritated as his own tickle begins to crest – one eye squints against it, and his mouth drops open to take in gentle hitching breaths. Your hips give an involuntary thrust, jostling him slightly above you. The head of your cock, clothed only in your sticky underwear, ruts against him.

Your entire world narrows down to watching Lieutenant Kitsuragi’s building sneeze. You realise you are involuntarily holding your breath, eyes roving from the flare of his nostrils to his creasing forehead to the way his tongue presses just so behind his bottom teeth. He has raised his free hand loosely before his face. Your cock twitches as he fans his face once, twice, and the mere suggestion of it seems to be enough to have him gasping one last time, nostrils flared to capacity, before he is jerking above you.

“hHDT’TSZCHhhh! AhhDTt’TZsCHh’uu!!”

The bed shakes beneath you as he rocks forward twice.  Your entire body feels like a live wire of sensation as you watch him through unblinking eyes. Your fantasies were erotic, but being able to actually feel the Lieutenant’s body strain and tremble as the ticklish urge overwhelms him is something else; the unguarded, desperate expressions as he lets loose are painfully arousing. You do not make out any visible spray but you can feel, from behind the pathetic semi-covering of his hand, each burst of air across your collar bone and neck. You shiver in ecstasy.

The Lieutenant pauses for a moment and leans back again, preparing for a third sneeze. You take advantage of his shifting to free yourself from under the press of his palm, pushing yourself up on your elbows and leaning closer to him. You want to feel the next sneeze on your face. It really seems like it is going to happen, too; Kim is so overwhelmed by the tickle in his nose that he appears to look straight past you, focusing all of his concentration on the sensation as it builds, and builds. He shivers, a delicious little trembling motion that you feel travel through him and down to your own hips, before gasping one last time – an audible, desperate “Hahh-!”

At the very last moment, he tilts his face away from your own, raising the back of his hand in front of his face with his palm towards you. It is a poor attempt at shielding you from his sneeze – you can still make out every minute detail of his face as his features draw tight. It is the slight downwards tilting of his head that spares you any real contact, but the proximity and poor covering means that you can see the fine aerosol that bursts from his mouth and nose as the uncharacteristically harsh sneeze overwhelms him.

“hHUPT’TZSCHhh’uuu!! Nnn…”

The cloud of spray glitters briefly in the air beside you before dissipating just as suddenly. Your hips buck again and you cannot help the guttural moan that pulls itself out of you. His own little moan of relief drives you insane. You wish he hadn’t turned away, but you say nothing – the last thing you want is to spook him. One wrong move and you might wake up trembling in the throes of a nocturnal emission. It is starting to feel very much like one of those kinds of dreams.

But ohh, that third sneeze had been wet. As well as leaving the Lieutenant visibly shaken, it has left a tantalising sheen of dampness on his bottom lip. As Kim blinks, taking a moment to recover, you reach out to swipe across the surface of the moistened skin, drying his mouth and transferring the wetness to your thumb. You hesitate for a moment. The Lieutenant is watching you silently, one hand still outstretched and pressed against the wall, a little taken aback by this unpredictable action. Maybe you should apologise.

Fuck it. You lick your thumb clean, moaning a little in both arousal and shame at what you have just allowed yourself to do. It was a stupid thing to do. If Kim walks out of this room with immediate effect and refuses to work with you any longer, you have only yourself to blame. This time, for sure, you have taken things too far. You brace yourself, awaiting the Lieutenant’s reaction. You force yourself to lock eyes with him.

You were not expecting to see an even more intense look of desire boring back into you. You watch as Kim removes his gloves before using his own forefinger to finish what you started, wiping away any residual spray.

“You really do like this, don’t you?”

There is a hint of amusement in this question, which is not really a question at all but a damning statement. It does not sound manipulative or sadistic, however; he seems to be genuinely enjoying your lascivious responses.

“Sorry, god, sorry,” You mutter anyway. Once again, his enthusiasm has had an adverse effect on your own sudden brazenness. You do not know how to do this. The dreamlike haze of arousal has up to this point protected you from the sobering reality that you are now engaging in sneezing fetish sex activities. With a man. With Precinct 57’s Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi. Your life has been full of ‘what the fuck’ moments, but this has to be waaay up there, man. This was so much easier in your fantasies where you alone had control.

Kim shakes his head. His smile is heated, but kind.

“Don’t be.” He murmurs. “It’s intriguing. You’re intriguing, Harry.”

He reaches towards your face as he speaks. Your mouth is already hanging slightly open in gormless disarray, so it is with little resistance that he slips the middle and forefinger of his right hand – yes, Harry-boy, the very same one he used to tend to his mess – between your teeth and onto your tongue. You start sucking on them almost immediately, flushing with pleasure at the sensation and the compliment. Kim’s breath hitches and he moans, a deeply satisfied purr of a sound that goes straight to your throbbing cock. Your underwear is now drenched, sticking to the head of your cock in the aftermath of his most recent nasal display. You are painfully hard and entirely desperate, sucking on those fingers like they’re the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Ahh, detective…” Kim sighs. His voice is low and thick with arousal of his own. You shift underneath him so that he is no longer straddling you with a leg on either side, moving backwards slightly and manoeuvring one of your thighs – the uninjured one - between his own. He goes eagerly, enthusiastically. You press up and between his legs with purpose.

There is no lack of certainty as he bucks back down onto your leg – Lieutenant Kitsuragi is hard, and he is rubbing that hardness against you whilst you suck on his fingers. You have no idea how you have managed to pull this off, but there is no point in overthinking it – especially when every drop of blood in your body feels as though it has pooled exclusively between your legs. You clamp a hand down around his wrist for leverage and start to increase the intensity of your oral stimulation. Your head bobs slightly as you suck the digits in and out of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tips of Kim’s fingers. His breath catches, and your eyes dart up to his face. Your cock twitches at the sight of his glittering brown eyes, heavy lidded and pupils blown as he follows the motions of your ministrations.

A swell of pride fills your chest. You realise that all you’ve ever really wanted since meeting the Lieutenant is for him to like you. He has stood by you despite the fact that you’re – well, you. And he actually does seem to like you, as inexplicable as this may be. You intrigue him. He said so himself. You don’t want to disappoint him – you want to make him feel good. Allowing yourself to acknowledge this desire for Kim outside of your own one-sided, pornographic fantasies fills you with a burning determination to do just that. Operation ‘Make Kim Orgasm’. Fuck the case, fuck this stupid murder, fuck police work – this is what you were made for. If that sounds dramatic, then so be it. You’re a dramatic kind of guy.

Kim rolls his hips against you as you press your tongue between his fingers, taking just the tips back into your mouth as you pull back up and suck hard.

“You’re a tease.” He says this in approval. You moan, and the hum this produces seems to please him very much.

A moment later, you regretfully pull back, another sneeze teasing your sensitive sinuses. This frequency and persistence would be irritating under ordinary circumstances, but with the promise of triggering a sneeze (or three) from the Lieutenant, you embrace it. You take a deep breath through flaring nostrils to stoke the subtle itch into an all-encompassing tickle. It is so effective that you sneeze immediately, on that inhalation alone.

“AEESSSSCHHHHHhhh!!! Hh…”

It shakes you so violently that you slump back against the pillow, bereft of all energy to remain partially upright any longer. Your back was starting to ache anyway. Your hands return to the Lieutenant’s hips as you look up at him expectantly.

“À tes souhaits,” he offers, even as a look of distinct irritation begins to cloud his features. You moan, and your cock jumps in your pants.

You only have to wait a matter of seconds before Kim’s breath begins to hitch. An irritatingly strong gust of wind from outside causes the entire shack to creak. You strain your ears in a valiant attempt to drink in every little inhalation over the sound of it.

What the Lieutenant says next could have been taken directly from one of your dirty little fantasies. As you gaze at him, your own breath hitching for notably more dick-related reasons, he raises a loosely-curled fist up to his face – or rather, just beneath it, leaving you plenty of room to watch – and begins to speak.

“Hh-! Ohh, Harry, you’re going to m-make me-! Hhdt-!!”

You almost cum on the spot. By sheer willpower you manage to hold back. Your forehead beads with sweat as Kim inhales definitively, bucking forward with four shuddering sneezes, supporting himself as before with a hand to the wall. You are certain if he had not done so he would have been thoroughly unbalanced.

“hhdt’Tszchhu! hHUpT’Tschu! HDT’Tzsshh! hH-!! Ahh’TSshh’uu! Ahh, mon dieu…”

You do not miss a single detail, intent on committing this painfully erotic performance to memory. The way his fine eyebrows draw together, contorting his brow in desperation. The way his nostrils flare with each contraction to almost double their resting size. The way his jaw flexes as his teeth clench together. It is a sight to behold, and you lose yourself in it.

You have been unable to keep your hips from bucking upwards, rubbing yourself against the surface of the Lieutenant’s thigh. He blinks, looking utterly drained for a brief moment, and it is one of the cutest things you have ever seen. No grown man has any right being that adorable. Once he has recovered, he presses his thigh firmly between your legs, binding your balls up and against your cock. You gasp, and he smiles, rutting against you.

“Excuse me.” He sniffles as you writhe. “That felt wonderful, I must admit.”

Fuck. You really must be dreaming. He has taken to this like a duck to water. How can he possibly know exactly what to say, and when? It is just as good as you imagined it could be – no, it is better. He is playing you like a god damn fiddle.

The Lieutenant shifts atop you, extracting his slender thigh from between the squeezing grip of your own as you dry hump him like your life depends on it. Your resistance forces him to pinch the meatiest section of your uninjured thigh – you jerk in shocked pain and release his leg as intended. He rubs the tender skin through your trousers, then squeezes into the space between you and the wall, lying on his side next to your supine form and swinging his right leg over your thighs. Your arm instinctively reaches under him to encircle his back.

“Sorry.” He apologises, smiling at the small frown on your face. “I’ll make it up to you.”

And just like that, he is reaching past your open zipper and into waistband of your underwear to grip your cock. You whine his name, embarrassingly loud and high-pitched. Your captured shaft throbs and leaks onto his fingers. His hand reaches up to collect the moisture, pulling back your foreskin ever so gently – and then he is pumping you in a steady rhythm. It is intentionally slow; you are close, and he knows this.

“Tu as une bite énorme…” You hear him mutter. Your chest swells with masculine pride. That’s right, baby. You are huge.

But holy fucking fuck, this feels – it feels – it’s so good. You wonder if he does this often – whether he touches himself just like this, or if this particular technique is reserved for other members of the homosexual underground. You groan, your head pressing back into the pillow and allowing him to work you. The skilful motions of his hand slowly build the pleasure until it sends small waves of ecstasy through your extremities, like miniature orgasms in their own right. When you do cum, it is going to be mind blowing. Your hand claws at the fabric of his bomber jacket, the other clutching the bedsheets.

“Kim…” His name rumbles out of you, a warning of the explosion to come.

Suddenly, his fingers encircle the base of your cock in a cruel, tight O. Your orgasm is halted in its tracks. Your cock throbs valiantly against its bondage, trembling as though in hope that the mimicry of orgasmic convulsions will trigger the real event – but no dice. A strangled groan tears its way out of you.

“Nooo…! Why…! You said you’d make it up to me-!”

You turn your head to face him. The look you flash him with your baleful green eyes would put the cutest puppy dog in the world to shame. They are glossy, wet with tears of betrayal. He looks at you fondly, but you can tell he is enjoying toying with you like this. Kinky bastard. You should have known.

“There’s no rush.” His voice is a seductive drawl. “I don’t want you to finish yet, Harry. I want to ask you some things.”

He is serious. The ring of his fingers does not loosen in the slightest. You sigh. You’re the questions guy, not him. You don’t much like the idea of an active interrogation whilst your swollen dick quivers dejectedly in his grip, but the promise of eventual orgasm softens the blow. You will humour him.

“Do your own sneezes turn you on? Do you remember that from before?”

Okay, wow. Straight to the meat and potatoes of the issue. Your cock twitches to hear the word ‘sneeze’ in his lilted accent again. You look to the ceiling for a moment of silent contemplation.

“I’m – not sure. They feel nice.” Your eyes swivel back to the Lieutenant’s face. “I like the effect they have on you more.”

Kim is softly biting his bottom lip. His eyes look heavy and heated – you imagine he might look the same after several glasses of wine. Except he’s somehow drunk on you – on this insane coupling.

“I can see that.” He shifts slightly, pulling himself partially atop you. He releases your cock from the grip of his right hand for the briefest of moments before replacing it with his left. His right hand begins to roll your balls in their sack, tugging at them expertly. You don’t doubt you could come from this sensation alone if he would only release your cock.

“You poor thing…” he murmurs against your cheek. “I must have been torturing you all this time.”

Arousal shoots through you like a bolt of lightning, electrifying and filthy.

“Kim, please-! Fuck…”

You could go insane. You cannot remember the last time you have been so intensely turned on for so long without the release of orgasm. Your entire body is an exposed nerve ending. Kim just sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the dimple on your chin.

“Tell me what you like about it. Explain it to me. Try your best.”

He isn’t going to let you cum until you divulge this information to him. You could easily overpower him if you wanted – you are a hulking beast of a man compared to his compact frame. You could flip him over and rut against his ass like a caveman. But you won’t. You will do as he asks. You swallow audibly.

“I like – thinking about the way it feels, for you. About the t-tickle,” You are blushing like a maniac, tripping over your words. You cannot look him in the eye. “…And how good it must feel for you when you finally sneeze.” You pause, screwing your eyes shut in mortification.

“Go on.” Kim encourages you, making his way to your earlobe and nibbling on the sensitive flesh.

“I like the faces – and the noises – you make. When you lose control.” You swallow again. “You’re so put together. It’s a…nice contrast.”

It is simultaneously humiliating and invigorating, hearing in your own voice a comprehensive explanation and breakdown of your sexual deviancy. Kim pulls back from your ear and rests his cheek on your shoulder, fingers still plucking lazily at your sack.

“You know, I’m not all that put together.” He smiles. “I have my moments.”

Lies. He’s the most put together man that was ever put together. Granted, the amnesia hasn’t left you with much of a frame of reference for this, but still.

“I’m not very put together right now, or when I barged in here knowing you would be – touching yourself.”

He actually looks a little bashful when admitting to that. It’s cute. You kiss the tip of his nose.

“Could have fooled me. You quite literally have me by the balls.”

Kim smirks and squeezes your sack with considerable pressure. Your eyes roll back into your head with a throaty groan of appreciation.

You cannot take much more of this – this constant thrumming of arousal. You could have orgasmed any number of times by now, but either through your own or Kim’s suppression, you have not. You want to cum. You need to cum. You want the Lieutenant to cum, too. You want him to know how badly you want it. Say something, or you’ll go mad with desire.

“I want to make you cum. I want to fuck you ‘til you scream my name, and then I want to fill you with my cum while your writhe on my cock.”

Umm…Okay, then. Good god, Harry. You’ve only just had your first homosexual kiss. Reel it in.

Luckily, this pornographic confession seems to have been an entirely appropriate thing to say. The Lieutenant looks at you with a downright predatory expression of hunger. Your cock gives a frightened little twitch.

“We don’t have time for that,” His voice practically rumbles, both in your ear and vibrating against your palm where it rests on his back, sending a heated shiver through you. “But we can definitely do something else.”

He moves to sit back up, but it is poorly timed with an emerging tickle in your nose. You frantically pin him against your chest in a sudden bear hug – he initially squirms in your grip before the rise and fall of your torso against his own clues him in to the fact that you are going to sneeze yet again. He relaxes against you, pressing his face into your neck. The frames of his glasses dig in a little uncomfortably, but the closeness is thrilling and intimate.

You do not have time to enjoy the feeling of the Lieutenant draped over you – the sneeze rushes out of you, shaking the bed, and you, and Kim. You try to aim it so that your spray doesn’t just rain down on you both, but also angle it up enough that you aren’t sneezing all over Kim’s jacket. You imagine he would be less than thrilled if you did. You manage to avoid making a mess but the fabric of his jacket still ripples with the force of your release.

“EEEISSSHHHHHUuu!!”

Luckily, it is just the one - it leaves you trembling in equal parts exhaustion and hedonistic pleasure. The motion of your body bucking against the Lieutenant’s felt especially nice in this position. You loosen your arms and wait for Kim to pull away. You are confused when he doesn’t do so immediately, and then the sound of a wavering inhale freezes you in place. All sensation in your body seems to subside apart from the heated skin of your neck where the Lieutenant’s breath hitches, preparing to sneeze. You feel the tip of his nose pressing against your jugular, his glasses digging into your jaw. Time seems to stand still as Kim’s ribcage expands under your hands, and then he is shuddering against you, smothering his sneezes against the column of your throat.

“HH’Dtsshh! Hh’Mptschh!! NGx’tsshh!!”

You arch your back, gasping, each little sneeze sending a shivering wave of warmth through you. It is one thing to watch Kim sneeze, but to feel him sneeze against you, pressed as close as he is – your brain feels as though it is short-circuiting.

He gently shakes your arms off and sits up, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He casts you a sheepish, almost embarrassed look that lets you know he had not intended to sneeze against you, but one glance at the dumb, almost drunken expression on your face and he looks a lot less sorry.

“Pardon,” he mutters, reaching into the interior pocket of his jacket. You watch as he takes out - a condom. Wait - he carries condoms with him on police investigations? Perhaps he carries them everywhere he goes. You should be more prepared yourself, quite honestly.

He rips the packet open skilfully with his teeth. You think he is going to slide the condom down your own length – it won’t fit, you want to say - but the sight of the Lieutenant opening his fly with one hand in expert timing and whipping out his cock leaves the words dead in your throat.

You stare at Kim’s erection. It’s not as big as your own, but it’s definitely a decent size. It’s pretty, too – a nice thickness, a neat head, curving a little off to one side. It’s fucking beautiful, actually. Your mouth waters at the sight of it resting in his loose grip. He watches you watch him, pumping the length of it a few times before teasing the head, making himself gasp. Your own neglected dick spits a jet of precum onto your lower stomach.

You reach greedily for his cock, but he gently slaps your hand away. When he rolls the condom down his length, panic hits you like a freight train. Is he going to fuck you? In the arse? Oh, god. You want him to fuck you up the arse. You think you might want that more than you want to fuck him up the arse. You gape at him, fingers flexing and eyes roaming his face.

“Listen, Kim, I- I’ve never done this before, and don’t get me wrong I – I want to, but I’m not – I don’t think I can-!” Kim silences you with a finger to the lips.

“Harry, I just said we don’t have time for that.” He laughs a little, and your entire body slumps back onto the bed as every muscle relaxes at once.

“Ohhh, thank god…” You hear yourself mutter, like a total asshole. Kim just laughs.

But then what is the condom for? Your brows furrow in confusion. He picks up on this immediately and sighs, still massaging his cock in a leisurely fashion.

“This is just a precaution, detective. I mean no offense, but I’m not sure I can trust your sexual history in light of the amnesia and unpredictable behaviour.”

It’s a totally fair point, but you still don’t entirely understand the point of it if you’re just giving each other hand jobs. Don’t ask. You have a feeling it’ll all make sense in a moment. You look up at Kim, and whatever expression you’re making seems to melt him, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss on your chin. He seems to really like the dimple there.

“Don’t worry. This is going to feel great, I promise.”

Kim shifts on top of you, hovering above you with a hand planted either side of your head. He pushes your shirt up over the expanse of your stomach then aligns your hips together until – fuckkkk. You toss your head back in pleasure. The Lieutenant begins to thrust against you, reaching between you for a moment to smear your wetness all over his sheathed cock, and you are sliding together with the most delicious friction. You buck up against Kim, arrhythmically at first before finding the perfect complimentary motion to his own thrusts. Nothing could have prepared you for how good it feels to have his cock sliding up against your own. Your toes are curling in an instant, and you are making embarrassing little mewling sounds.

Kim leans closer, hovering above you on deceptively strong arms. Your hands grip his jacket as his breath tickles your ear.

“I think I’m starting to understand, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor,” he murmurs, drinking in the sound of your groans. “The way you shuddered against me when you sneezed – it’s always wonderful to feel the physical result of somebody losing control. A good sneeze is like an orgasm in its own right.”

Ohh, fuck. He’s too good at this. Or maybe you’re just easy? Either way, your balls are starting to draw up and you can feel the pressure building as your cock gives a heavy, pre-orgasmic throb against Kim’s. And still he talks.

“Just now, you said you wanted me to fuck you. I can do that. I can make it so that it’s all you think about. You’ll dream about it every night, and wake up wishing my cock was inside you…”

He purrs into your ear, a continuous stream of dirty promises, and you’re imagining it all, imaging him fucking you, then you fucking him, images flood your mind and your cock is throbbing and everything tenses before –

Release. Pulsing, gyrating release. The pleasure is monumental – all you can do is submit to it, washing over you in waves and pulling a shuddering moan out of you. Your weakened heart flutters as the sheer magnitude of sensation incapacitates you. You had been denied for too long, and now it seems as though the orgasm is actively trying to kill you out of revenge. You do not care. It feels so, so good. The best you’ve had since god knows when. It feels like it could go on for an eternity. In reality, it is over in a matter of seconds, but when it finally releases you, twitching and gasping in the aftermath, you feel almost reborn.

As you wind down, you are aware of Kim murmuring gentle words of encouragement and praise. You feel him kiss your cheek. He is handling you carefully, like you are a delicate flower and not a muscular slab of a man. You are enjoying it immensely. You let yourself be soothed, sinking into the mattress as the afterglow leaves you floaty and relaxed.

It dawns on you, as you come back to earth, that Kim is no longer thrusting against you. Well, he is a little, but only minutely, barely enough for you to make out. He has shifted his hips slightly so that he is no longer pressing directly against your sensitive cock, but against your hip bone. His cock is rock solid against you, and you realise in a sudden wave of shame and disappointment that he hasn’t had an orgasm of his own.

“You didn’t cum,” You manage.

“No.” Kim confirms, resting his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. He seems to like it there. You like that he seems to like it there. “I’ll need a little more time than that.”

You wince. You were so turned on and came so hard you barely had time to reflect on the fact that your orgasm had taken a whopping 40 seconds to crest from the moment Kim’s dick slid up against your own. You’re not even a minute man. Teenage boys last longer than you. You are unable to prevent yourself from letting out a pained, reedy whine as these thoughts consume you.

“S’rry…” You mutter, and to make it all worse, a couple of tears begin to spill down the sides of your face and into the burning shells of your ears. You focus on a patch of discolouration on the ceiling and attempt to astral project your body out of there. It does not work.

Kim pushes himself upwards and positions himself in a seated straddle above you. You offer no resistance. You do not look at him until he forces you to do so with a firm grip on your chin, pulling your face towards him. Even then your stubborn eyes only swivel to look at him once he compels you with an authoritative “Harry.”

He is looking at you fondly. You’re not sure how much more you can take of his relative kindness. It’s probably just the post-orgasm loopiness and raised temperature, but you swear you can make out the faint glow of a halo around his head.

“Don’t apologise. You held out for a very long time – an impressively long time, given how worked up you were.” He gets up off the bed then, taking the few steps over to the small basin and wetting the washrag lying beside it. You turn your head to watch and see that his erection hangs insistently in front of him, though it has wilted a little. The surface of the condom is slippery, covered in your semen and pre-cum.

“This was never about me, anyway. I got…carried away.”

He sounds…pained. You wonder if he is feeling a regret similar to that of an unsuccessful one-night stand, once the orgasm has cleared his mind. Only he hasn’t even had an orgasm. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest, not only for him but faint memories of various drunken affairs. You have a feeling a lot of women have slammed the door of your apartment behind them, their own orgasms neglected as you lay there in selfish completion. Fuck. Say something before you ruin things even more.

“I like when you get carried away. I want you to get carried away.” You push yourself with no small amount of effort to sit up against the wall, legs swung over the side of the bed.

You watch Kim’s profile. He says nothing, but he’s smiling. He slips the condom off of himself and flicks it into the nearby bin. You watch with a sinking heart as he tucks his half-hard cock back into his underwear. It feels like rejection. This is totally harshing the mellow of your earth-shattering orgasm, man. He turns with the washcloth in hand, takes one look at your face and smiles at you with such naked adoration you almost swoon with it.

“What’s that look for?”

You shrug, eyes darting around like a desperately guilty dog.

“Officer.” You look back at him. “We are still in the middle of an ongoing murder investigation.”

He is such a square. How he can be this level-headed and persistent whilst he’s still at half-mast is beyond you. You snort out of your nose like a petulant child. That was a bad idea – your forgot that you have a cold. You scramble around you looking for a tissue, but before you find one Kim is cleaning up your mess with the washcloth. Your ears burn. Having your nose wiped for you like a child should not be this arousing, but it is. Kim folds the washcloth and works downwards, cleaning the semen from your skin and the trail of hair that covers the length of your torso.

“Don’t look so disappointed.” His face is so close to yours. “If you still mean everything you’ve said when we’ve closed this case…” He whispers against your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

You lunge forward too quickly and awkwardly crash your teeth against his own. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, sinking to his knees in front of you and craning his neck upwards to maintain contact. You lean forward, clutching his shoulders with flexing fingers. He is such a good kisser. He does amazing things with his tongue whilst his hand still works on scrubbing your torso clean, working its way to your crotch, and –

Kim breaks the kiss and looks down your body. He is wearing an expression of utter disbelief, which you would find incredibly amusing if it wasn’t aimed at your person.

“What? What’s wrong??” You ask in horror, clutching his shoulders tighter.

He doesn’t answer you. He reaches one hand between your legs. You cannot help the obtrusively loud moan of pleasure that rakes its way out of you as he squeezes your cock.

“Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” He says despairingly. “You’re still hard.”

You look down. The swollen head of your cock peers back up at you, twitching happily within the constraints of Kim’s fingers. Huh.

“Oh. Uhh. So I am.”

The look of bemusement Kim flashes you is objectively too funny for you to not grin back at him, so you do. He raises an eyebrow.

“Is this normal for you? Do you remember?”

“I’m. I’m gonna say no.”

“No, you don’t remember, or no, this is not normal?”

“Yes.”

The Lieutenant blinks. He sighs heavily, releasing your cock. It throbs angrily at the sudden absence of his expert fingers. If a cock could pout, yours would.

“Harry.” He places his palms on each of your thighs, making sure to keep his touch light on your injured leg. “The entire reason I suggested you take care of things is because I thought it would provide you with some relief and mental clarity.”

The Lieutenant doesn’t seem angry – maybe a little concerned. You get the distinct impression that he is beginning to think you may actually have a medical issue of some kind. Your regard your stubborn erection. It doesn’t hurt – you hadn’t even noticed its persistence because you are still enjoying the buzz of your afterglow. Are you still aroused? You ought to test that. You picture Kim leaning down and sneezing all over your crotch. When your cock gives a heavy throb in response to this thought, drooling more clear liquid down your shaft, you relax. You’re not suffering the early stages of priapism; you’re just insanely horny.

Kim has been watching you think. He also watches your cock bob in the air with poorly feigned disinterest. You think, despite it all, he is secretly happy with this outcome. Perhaps a little flattered that he has managed to work you into this rabid state despite the multiple factors of injury, illness and drug withdrawals working against you. You are hyperaware of the grip of his hands on your thighs. He has very nice hands - angular and masculine, but delicate in their motions in a way your own huge paws are not. You should tell him to get to work with those hands of his.

“It’ll go down soon?” You offer instead.

Spoilsport.

Kim looks up at you like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest, because he doesn’t.

“Humour me, officer. When might that be?”

You shrug noncommittally. He sighs again, eyeing your cock. It twitches a little under the scrutinization.

“Do you need to have another orgasm?” He asks you. It is a sincere, almost clinical question for which he would like a straightforward answer, almost like a physician consulting with a patient. That doesn’t stop your hips from squirming in response.

“I…don’t know if I can.” You admit.

And you mean it. Earlier this week you may have suffered a genuine heart attack. You were shot in the leg just over 48 hours ago. Another orgasm of that magnitude may kill you. You ponder this a moment longer. There are definitely worse ways to go, and you trust Kim to take good care of your corpse should your petite mort just become…mort. The Lieutenant is patiently watching you, still crouched in front of you. You could do worse that Kim Kitsuragi, Harry-boy. Just blow your load like a man and enjoy the ride.

“…Fuck it. Sure.”

You stroke your cock experimentally. It feels as intense as if you’d never come in the first place – the only evidence to the contrary being the floaty, rejuvenated feeling your previous orgasm bestowed upon you. Once you start touching yourself you can’t stop. You groan and tip your head back against the wall. Yeah. This probably won’t take long either.

You realise after a moment of passionate self love that Kim has made no move to either offer a helping hand or leave you to handle yourself alone. He’s watching you work yourself with naked interest, eyes heavy-lidded and bright. When you groan in response to your own teasing fingers rubbing gently over your frenulum, you hear his own moan of appreciation and feel the flexing of his fingers on your legs. It is his own sigh of arousal that seems to break him out of this intense observation. He stands up, and you look up at him, meeting his heated gaze with your own.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He says, pushing his glasses up his nose but otherwise unmoving. His own erection tents the front of his cargo pants.

“Don’t go.” You say. “Stay.”

He smiles down at you. It makes your breath hitch.

“You want me to watch?”

“I think you want me to want you to watch.”

“I want to get back to the murder investigation.” He teases.

“Please. Don’t talk about murder right now. I’ll never cum that way.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He smiles at you. He is finding some enjoyment in this – standing over you while you masturbate yourself furiously. You find yourself enjoying it as well – so much so that it takes you a moment to take offense.

“I’m not! – not that fucking weird, damn.” You mutter. He just laughs.

“I want to make you cum.” You offer after several beats of silence. He fidgets in response, a small movement that would have otherwise signalled a routine shifting of weight from one leg to another, were it not for the obscene tent in his trousers.

“You should focus on yourself.” He breathes out, sounding almost as out of breath as you.

“What does it – look like I’m doing?” You get out between moans.

You’re getting close. It feels good to stroke yourself with your own practised hand, but you can’t help but feel like you need more. The Lieutenant is the entire reason you are in this position in the first place, and now he’s not even touching you. His sneezing was the catalyst for a whole new world of never-ending arousal and homosexual revelations.

You should ask him to sneeze for you. The thought is simultaneously thrilling and mortifying. It is one thing for Kim to barge into the room and start kissing you, and sneezing all over you because he can’t help it – yet another thing entirely for you to request his active participation. Perhaps you don’t need to ask. All you need to do is sneeze again, and it will certainly trigger a reaction of his own. You sniffle experimentally, but all you get for your efforts is an uncomfortable burning sensation. It is just your luck that the second you actively want to sneeze, you cannot. Fuck.

Why do you find yourself hesitating like this? You couldn’t have imagined a more positive response from the Lieutenant before. He called you intriguing. He dirty-talked you. He rubbed your dicks together and compared sneezing to orgasm. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

You regard the Lieutenant. Sexually charged energy practically oozes from him as he stands before you. His pupils are blown and his body bows towards you with a subconscious desire for closeness. All physical signs, not least his solid cock, point towards his want for sex with you, and yet – he’s just standing there. Watching. It occurs to you that he is potentially holding himself back now because his uncharacteristically enthusiastic advances have spooked him into a form of cowed paralysis. For a rigid professional like the Lieutenant, niche fetish sex with a fellow police officer is a huge deviation from his usual composed behaviour.

You take this all into consideration, and open your mouth to speak.

“I want you to sneeze for me. Please, Kim. I’m desperate for it.”

Your voice is steady, if not a little strained, but you have said it. It is out in the open. Your face heats in anticipation, heart fluttering in your chest, and your arousal seems to amplify at the thrill of voicing these most erotic desires out loud. Kim makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and you are worried for a moment that he is going to bolt out of the door, but then he is stepping closer, standing between your legs and cradling your cheek in his palm.

“Okay.” He smiles at you, and the relief is overwhelming. He looks excited– it is as if he had been waiting for you to put into words what you really wanted from him. You have a feeling that you had been dead on the money about the source of his reluctance. He had taken too much control of you, far too quickly. He didn’t want to look desperate, or lecherous in his handling of you, even though you went easily, enthusiastically. He had said you could do whatever you wanted to him – granted, he had meant this for a time in the future when you had more blood in your brain than your dick, but. Either way. Perhaps all you had to do was use your fucking words.

The Lieutenant is suddenly glancing round the expanse of the shack as if looking for something. When you ask him what he is doing, he looks at you as if it is obvious.

“I can’t just sneeze on command, but there doesn’t appear to be anything dusty in here for me to use. Isobel is clearly a fastidious cleaner.”

That last part expresses a deep respect for the old woman’s neatness despite her visual impairment. He says it so matter of factly that it takes a moment for the sheer eroticism of what came before to wash over you. Your cock drools down your knuckles at the thought of Kim willingly inducing an allergic reaction in himself, proposing he do so as if it is the most normal thing in the world. You picture him again with a feather duster, teasing his flaring nostrils until he cannot take anymore. He seems pleased with your immediate physical reaction, running his hand through your hair. You thank this morning’s Harry for the decision to shower despite the pain in your leg.

“Don’t you need to sneeze? That’s as effective a method as any.”

You sniffle again, but it is the same result as before – which is to say, nothing at all.

“Fuck…” You tilt your head back against the wall in disappointment. Perhaps you had better let this idea go and just think about tits or something.

You remember then, in a flash of foggy memories, a certain fool proof method for inducing a sneeze. A small, twisted piece of coated wire – the kind you might use to seal an open bag of food. You remember using it, tickling yourself into a relieving, shuddering sneeze when the urge refused to crest without external encouragement. God. Maybe you like your own sneezes more than you previously thought. You feel another stubborn memory, just on the periphery of your consciousness that refuses to reveal itself to you. Nevertheless, you have a hunch – no, a suspicion - that you are not the only person upon whom you have used that little tool. This confuses you. You had been so convinced this was a secret you had never shared with anybody, but now you are not so sure. But who? It wasn’t…her, at least. You decide to bury this troubling thought before you develop a headache or start to cry.

Anyway. This tool. You have a feeling. A feeling that in the lining of your blazer, through a small rip of the fabric…You reach inside, and moments later, you are staring at the small twist of wire pinched between your thumb and forefinger. The Pavlovian elevation of your heartbeat at the sight of it only confirms its intended usage.

“Umm. I think this should work.” You hold the small tool up to the Lieutenant, your expression a confusing amalgamation of sheepishness and excitement.

He takes the tool off you and brings it closer to his face, squinting a little at it through his glasses before a look of recognition spreads across his features. His lips quirk up into one of his small smiles. You swallow audibly.

“I’m assuming this is intended for internal stimulation?” His smile widens as you nod, squeezing your cock for good measure. “Very resourceful, detective.”

He twirls the small piece of wire between his fingers as if testing his grip. You are giddy with anticipation, practically vibrating with it. Kim uses his knee on the outside of your leg to push it inwards – you instinctively move your legs closer together, out of the wide spread you had adopted as you slumped back against the wall. He hums in appreciation at your quick understanding before kneeling in a partial straddle atop you, knees pressing into the mattress. It squeaks in protest anew at your combined weight, but neither of you pay it any mind.

Kim rests his left hand on your shoulder, twirling the wire between thumb and forefinger of his right and watching your reaction. You swallow thickly.

“Please,” You whine. “’M so close…”

“Okay.” He leans forward to kiss you for a moment, and you almost reach up to pull him back into it before you remember that more kissing means less sneezing. “But if you’re still hard after this, I’m driving you to the hospital.”

He isn’t joking. You nod obediently, trying your best to look innocent and failing spectacularly. Kim hesitates for the briefest moment, as if it dawns on him how ridiculous his current position is – how every decision and success he has undertaken in his career and life in general has led up to this bizarre turn of events – before slipping the tool into his slightly flared right nostril.

Almost immediately, he is pulling back with a look of pained irritation, but it is not the kind either of you were looking for. He coughs a little before rubbing at his nose frantically with the heel of his palm, eyes scrunched shut.

“Kim - shit, are you okay?” You ask him, concern overriding the way your cock twitches at the sight of him roughly manhandling his nose.

“Ahh, sorry, sorry,” The Lieutenant apologises, slowing the motion of his hand. He lowers it again and smiles bashfully at you, eyes watering ever so slightly. He looks so cute in the moment you barely suppress the urge to gnaw on his glasses.

“I think I was a little overzealous. I didn’t expect that sensation.” He moves the tool back into his nostril, trying again.

You watch in fascination, eyes roving over his face, taking in every little detail as he tickles his nose for you. His nostrils are your favourite thing to watch, predictably. They are incredibly expressive, and the shape of them lends to a wonderful flare. Each little twist and thrust of the tool triggers another series of uncontrollable twitching. The eroticism of this moment cannot be understated – you feel so good, so unbelievably turned on that your hand has paused on your cock for fear you will come before he has even succeeded in initiating a build-up.

Suddenly, the Lieutenant’s breath catches. You hold your own involuntarily, as if any sudden movement will scare his budding sneeze away. Your eyes wander from his flaring nostrils to his furrowed brows to his mouth as it falls open. His tongue cups itself, pressing slightly against his full lip. You briefly imagine the feeling of that tongue wrapped around your cock as he sucks it down. You resist touching yourself, intent on enjoying every moment of this. The second you do it is game over.

“Oohh, I think-!” Kim manages to gasp out before the sneezes are tearing their way out of him – a desperate little triple that leaves him shivering in your lap.

“hHUPT’Tschh’uu!! Hhdt’Tszschhh’uu! hHADT’TSCHhhtt!!”

He aims them at your chest, but mostly catches your neck and chin with the light spray. Your skin feels electric with sensation. You swallow your groans to avoid drowning out the sound of his releases, cock throbbing heavily with each one. It is hard to imagine that you could be more turned on than in this current moment, especially as Kim sighs heavily, orgasmically when he has finished.

“Ahh, my god. That felt so good.”

It doesn’t matter if he is only saying it for your benefit, or if it really is the case – you’d put money on both – and you allow yourself to groan openly at last. Your free hand reaches up to clutch at the front of his shirt, more to tether yourself to him than anything else.

“Did you like that?” He purrs, knowing full fucking well that you’ve probably never liked anything else quite so much in your life.

“Yesss…” You manage, hesitating for a moment before offering a “B-bless you” that you stumble over as if it is the naughtiest, dirtiest phrase known to man.

“Thank you.”

He sighs emphatically, delighted to see you squirm and blush. The Lieutenant rests the hand still clutching the inducing tool on top of your own where you are crumpling his meticulously ironed shirt into a wrinkled mess. He leans forward, holding his face just in front of your own. He sniffles, then smiles smugly at the flicker of your eyes to his flaring nostrils.

“Harry.”

You murmur an affirmative, unable to do much more as his deep brown eyes seem to stare into your soul. It makes you feel a little drunk – the fun, relaxing part before the anger and shame sends you into a spiral of self-destruction.

“Why aren’t you touching yourself?”

The Lieutenant could read a phone directory aloud and that voice would probably still have the same effect on you. Soft, but deep and commanding. It sends shivers down your spine. Before you can answer him, he is murmuring against your lips again.

“Touch yourself for me. Be a good boy.”

You can be his good boy. His best boy. You sigh against him, fingers moving to firmly encircle your cock before his words even fully sink in.

“Yes,” you breathe out, beginning to stroke yourself obediently. Your other hand releases the front of his shirt and moves to grip his waist instead.

“Good.” He smiles, leaning back once more, hand gripping your shoulder firmly whilst the other slips the tool back into his waiting nostril. “Here’s your reward.”

You watch in what can only be described as adoration as the Lieutenant starts to tickle his nose again. You are trying to hold out, keeping the squeezing rhythm on your cock as slow as you can manage, but the longer you touch yourself the harder it is to do so. A few moments later, Kim’s nostrils give a definitive twitch. You hear him suck in a shuddering breath. This time was much faster – he is figuring out the best spots to tease in an impressive display of aptitude.

The Lieutenant’s face freezes in pre-sneeze agony for a beat, and then he is tilting forward with another round of sneezes, hand squeezing your shoulder tight.

“hHPT’Tsschh!! HdDDZT’Tzshieww!! ‘TSCHhh’uu!!....HAHd’tsschht!!

These, too, were aimed in the general vicinity of your upper torso, though the last one – a straggler – seems to catch him off guard. You feel the delicate spray that bursts out with it settling over your left cheek, some on your lips. You shamelessly lick them clean. It wasn’t a particularly messy affair, hardly even wet enough for you to feel it, but a thrill rushes through you all the same. Kim doesn’t notice, pausing for a moment to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles and scrunching his eyes shut as he does so. It is both endearing and erotic that he makes no effort to hide just how much these sneezes tickle and tease.

“Bless you-!” You all but growl at him.

“Thank you, detective.”

He is enjoying this immensely, which only makes it better. You doubt, despite the lax and forgiving nature with which he has approached some of your more…unpredictable behaviours, that he is the kind of man who does anything in bed that he does not want to. He wears his arousal well – he doesn’t blush so much as he seems to glow, radiant and healthy.

“This is fun.” He admits, out of the blue, returning the tool to his nose. “I wonder why I’ve never thought to try this before.”

Because you’re not a huge fucking pervert, you do not say. You imagine he finds a certain appeal in having some power over when he gets to sneeze. He can enjoy the release when the reflex is triggered by his own hand and following his own decision to do so. It is an entirely different ball game to when his allergies or suggestibility render him helpless in environments he cannot control. Now he has an opportunity to indulge in the sensation – and it certainly does no harm that he is reducing a large man like yourself to a quivering mess whilst doing so.  

Before you realise it, your muscles begin to tighten in pre-orgasmic tension. Your hand is stroking your cock mercilessly, doing everything it can to drive you closer and closer to climax. It is working on autopilot, for which you are grateful – you don’t want to miss a moment of this thinking about anything that isn’t the Lieutenant.

“Kim…” You whine. You mean to say more – that you’re close, you’re going to cum, something to that effect. You don’t manage to, but the desperation with which you utter his name is enough for the Lieutenant to understand.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He murmurs, rubbing his thumb in small circles against your clavicle.

You sure fucking are. Your hand is a blur over your crotch, your frantic efforts almost sending vibrations throughout the protesting bed frame. You try not to think too much about the expressions you’re making. Kim has already been witness to your O face and certainly doesn’t seem to have been deterred by whatever he saw. He’s watching you with a hungry look even now, working his own face into a different but not dissimilar mask of desperation to your own.

Suddenly, his hand is squeezing your shoulder especially hard, thumb digging into bone and muscle.

“I think – if I -!”

He is trying in desperation to communicate something between hitching breaths, but it is futile. He inhales hugely, audibly gasping at the intensity of the tickle he has inflicted upon himself. He makes no effort to remove the tool this time.

“AhHH’TSchhTt!!-‘TSSChhh!-‘TSSh’uu!! – god, I-! AESSCH’uu! Hhp’Tzshieww!*

A wave of heat consumes you, the eroticism of the moment almost unbearable. You realise that Kim has found a sweet spot and deduced that simply holding the tool in place will result in an endless barrage of sneezes. Your cock throbs, drooling down your knuckles as you caress and squeeze yourself stupid. The hand resting on Kim’s waist grips him more firmly, a kind of anchorage, though for whose benefit you are not entirely sure.

“IhHd’TSsch’uu!! aAHDd’TszchhT!!-TTSChh’uu-ttschht!! Fuck, it’s so -! HahDD’TZSCHHhht!!”

The bed shakes under your combined efforts. You moan loudly, wantonly, almost out of your mind with desire. You wish you could shut yourself up – not out of any kind of embarrassment or shame. You’re beyond that now. But your own noisy exclamations are beginning to drown out the sound of Kim’s relentless sneezing. They have been increasing steadily in pitch as his body fights to mollify the tickle. There is no relief to be found, however – as long as he presses that little piece of wire against his sensitive spot, he will sneeze ceaselessly.

“Hupt’CHShh’iew! Hhdt’CHhhssh!! Hh-!! HhGG’TSzsch’uu!! TZSSCHh’iew!! Hhd’TZSCHshhtt!!”

They have been spraying your chest, neck and face indiscriminately, as it is all the Lieutenant can do to keep himself upright and find enough air to breathe between each convulsion. That most recent sneeze is also the most productive yet. You blink reflexively against the spray misting over your cheeks and nose, tangibly more wet than the preceding baptisms you have received. Kim’s pink, flaring nostrils are beginning to glitter with moisture. You almost feel envious that it has taken him such an intense series of sneezes to develop a bona fide runny nose. You can only imagine the mess you would have made by this point.

Unable to clean himself up throughout the continuous onslaught, you notice the tiniest string of saliva drips from the Lieutenant’s bottom lip. You want to lick it off, but all you’re capable of in the moment is fucking your own fist and moaning low and loud like a cat in heat. Your orgasm is mere moments away – it is building so intensely that your earlier fears of simply cumming yourself to death reemerge. You couldn’t stop the frantic motions of masturbation if you tried, however. You are a wanking machine, operating purely on animalistic impulses.

The Lieutenant, it appears, has reached his limitations. He looks dizzy and breathless, glasses askew and eyes streaming in irritation. He removes the tool from his nostril and drops it between you, realising much the same as you have – the cruel little press of that wire would have made him sneeze and sneeze until he passed out.

He clutches your shoulders with both hands now. You stare, utterly and totally enraptured, as his breath hitches towards yet another release.  Removing the direct source of irritation seems to have stoked some kind of residual tickle – and by the absolutely miserable twist of his features, it is perhaps the most intense of them all. Your cock shudders with the first pulse of your orgasm.

My god, you might die. You might actually die, you think, as the steadily cresting pleasure curls your toes and begins to pulse through you in luxurious waves. It is so overwhelming that you are unable to make any noise at all. You manage to watch through unblinking eyes as Kim tips forward with a punishing double.

“hHAhdt’TSZCHhh’uuu!! HhHDT’TSZSChhst!!”

They spray across your chin and neck, deliciously wrenching and wet. The Lieutenant gasps, head shaking almost imperceptibly as the tickle grinds vindictively against his sinuses – one final ‘fuck you’ - before he is lurching forward with a definitive, body-crunching explosion.

“hhHAHPT’TTZSSCHHhtt’iewww!!!”

It is the loudest and wettest sneeze you have ever heard from him. More importantly is the fact that he has managed to aim it down his body, chin squeezing against his collar bone. It drenches your cock in a teasing cloud of spray, the cooling sensation of it settling onto the delicate skin and elevating your orgasm beyond anything you thought imaginable. You are reeling with it, trembling pitifully.

Completely without means to control your own shuddering, you are helpless to fight it as your head drops back against the wall, thunking hard enough that there is pain even through the tremendous pleasure. You feel Kim slip a hand between your skull and the wall, cradling it protectively as you continue to shiver. The jarring movement seems to have triggered you to find your voice again and you moan stupidly, eyelashes aflutter.

Unlike your first orgasm, when the pleasure finally releases you this time, you slump as though dead. You have never come so close to losing consciousness from orgasm; you didn’t know it was something you were physically capable of (falling asleep immediately after the fact or passing out from drugs not-withstanding). Your breathing finally regains some semblance of consistency. Your eyes fell closed at some point and you make no move to open them. As you twitch with the occasional aftershock, wilting dick in hand, you feel Kim disembarking and hear him moving round. Your lascivious cock gives a few appreciative twitches at the sound of him blowing his nose.

“Harry. Harrier.” Kim calls your name softly from above, and you realise that you have started to doze.

“Mmf.” You grunt. You wish he would leave you to your peaceful oblivion.

A sudden cool sensation against your face makes you jolt slightly, eyes fluttering open. You look up at Kim, who is watching you with undisguised fondness and amusement, pressing a damp cloth to your cheek.

“Hi.” You manage.

“Hello.” Kim replies, before moving the cloth over your face and neck with a mechanical efficiency.

You grunt a little in indignation at being jostled here and there. You imagine this is what a milk drunk kitten being groomed by a fastidious and overbearing mother cat would feel like. Kim ignores your protests, wiping your dick clean with several quick strokes.

“Sorry.” He slows down just a little when you hiss and jerk as he works over the head of your cock, rubbing the over sensitised skin with tender care.

Your sticky hand is the last to be cleaned. You offer a lazy smirk as he wrinkles his nose at the sheer amount of mess you have made. The cloth, which you realise had been one of his many clean handkerchiefs, is tossed into the bin without a second thought. When you continue to sit there, arms hanging loosely at your sides, he clears his throat and looks pointedly at your crotch. Oh, right. You tuck your cock away, finally and blessedly flaccid.

“Do you normally make such a production of orgasm?” Kim asks in faux irritation, pulling his gloves back on.

You know he liked what he saw – he just likes to tease you. You ignore him, unable to formulate a witty or biting remark in response. Your brain is still jelly. Evidently your legs are, too – the second you try to stand, they are buckling under you. Kim steadies you, supporting your weight as best he can, until you are able to stand on your own. You swoon a little from the sudden rush of blood.

“You okay?” He asks, patting your back as you wash your hands in the basin.

“Fuck, man. I’m better than okay. I’m the living embodiment of Disco, baby.”

You giggle a little, loopy from the rush of endorphins. Your head also feels about a thousand times clearer, your morale at an all-time high – which gives you all the confidence you need to follow through on what you have been dying to do for days.

You turn to Kim, some variation of ‘The Expression’ plastered onto your face. With one fell swoop, you are scooping him up and depositing him roughly onto the bed, pulling a startled and rather undignified squawk out of him. Before he has time to stand up, you lower your mass over him, pressing a thigh between his legs and up against his cock and balls. The moan that escapes him is an unexpected and embarrassing to him as it is intoxicating and motivating to you. His hands reach up to grip your shoulders.

“You’re hard.” You mutter, before leaning forward and pressing a series of kisses to the exposed column of the Lieutenant’s neck.

“Astute observation, detective,” he breathes out, using his grip to pull you closer and arching himself up against you.

“I still want to make you cum. Will you let me now?” You nose along his jawline, careful to avoid pressing too hard and ruining the moment with a poorly timed sneeze. He shudders and bucks up against your leg, squeezing his thighs around it.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

That’s as clear an affirmation as you’ve ever heard. You reach between his legs, balancing over him on one arm. As nice as it felt for the position to be reversed, you can’t deny that your present arrangement is reaffirming to your masculinity. You spit into your hand, then manoeuvre his rock-solid cock out of his pants and hold it for a moment in your palm, getting a feel for the weight and thickness of it. You look down the lengths of your bodies in appreciation at the pretty head, beaded with moisture. You swipe over it with your thumb, spreading the wetness around and pulling a shaky sigh out Kim in response.

Before you can begin to stroke the Lieutenant, he is gripping your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him.

“One thing before you start.” His brown eyes burn into your own. “If you ever pick me up like that again, I’m breaking both your arms.”

He is only half joking. He appreciates your wanton displays of virile masculinity, but he does not appreciate being caught off guard and thrown around like a toy. You nod within his grip, and he releases you, pulling your face to the crook of his neck and moaning in appreciation as your hand starts to pump him. He temporarily lets go of your shoulder to reach down and pull his t-shirt up to his nipples before resuming his hold, gripping you almost possessively.

“Is that an appropriate way to speak to your superior officer, Lieutenant?” You tease. There are times that you are especially grateful for the heavy timbre of your voice, and now is one of them.

You work your way over Kim’s neck with tiny kisses. His jugular flutters under your lips with each frantic beat of his heart.

“I believe it’s warranted when you’ve made your superior officer orgasm twice by sneezing on his person.” He murmurs, intoxicatingly breathless, into your ear, making you shudder involuntarily. You feel the smile on his lips as he nibbles gently on your ear lobe. Oh, god. He’s a monster. He’s going to eat you alive, and you’ll happily let him.

“God. You can’t be doing that. I’m serious, Kim, you’ll make me hard again.”

You don’t want him to stop. You want to lie there and let him tease every inch of your body. But this is no longer about you. You are overflowing with endorphins and post-orgasmic rejuvenation, and it is the Lieutenant who has brought you to such a state. He deserves your total and undivided attention.

It feels wonderful to stroke his cock, and you seem to be very good at it, if Kim’s increasingly enthusiastic moans and gasps are of any indication. His skin is velvety soft in your calloused palm, and everything feels perfect and grounded and right. A sudden wave of emotion overcomes you as you realise this is the happiest you have been in a very long time. You blink the traitorous tears away before they threaten to fall, but there is still a lump in your throat. You’re beginning to suspect you are just a regular sex crier.

“I can hear you thinking,” Kim gasps out.

You lift your head out of the crook of his neck to look into his face. He looks amazing like this, as though he can barely believe how good it feels, eyebrows furrowed and teeth worrying his bottom lip.

“I’m thinking about you.” You murmur, pressing your thigh even harder against his balls and squeezing his cock with a purposefully slow upstroke. He writhes under you, and the half-strangled sob he makes as his hands scramble for purchase on your blazer is possibly the best sound you have ever heard in your life (sneezing aside).

“Harry-! Plus fort, comme ça…!”

You obey, increasing the force of your grip as you squeeze him, a steady and punishing rhythm. His closed-mouth groan of approval spurs you on.

“I meant it all. Everything I said. And I’ll still mean it tomorrow, and the day after that.” You know this, with the strongest sense of clarity you have experienced since the start of your amnesia. “I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me. Do you want that?”

You omit the ‘do you want me’ part.

“Fuck…” Kim mutters.  “Fuck, yesss.”

Your heart is overflowing. You feel hope, real genuine hope, for a better future. One where maybe you don’t hate yourself, and happiness isn’t something reserved for the rest of the world while you stand on the periphery looking in. You watch his face, his head thrashing from side to side on the pillow. He grits his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in ecstasy. He’s done for. Push him over the edge.

“I want you to cum all over yourself. Make a mess for me, Kim.”

The Lieutenant gasps, tossing his head back as his entire body tenses underneath you. His cock spits in your grasp, painting his torso with white stripes of pleasure. He is certainly making a mess; the sight makes your mouth water. You rub him through it, drinking in his soft whines and hitching breaths. You’re impressed by the amount of semen that spurts out of him – you wonder if he is as disciplined with his orgasms as with his cigarettes. Maybe he’s in the middle of a dry spell. Or maybe you’re just that good. It is probably an amalgamation of all three reasons.

You stroke him until he reaches down to tap on your wrist, signalling over-stimulation. Your movements cease and you loosen your grip, cradling his twitching cock like a delicate treasure. Your eyes haven’t left his face. The serene look of satisfied blankness makes him look youthful and handsome. Your heart aches to look at him, but it’s a sweet, gnawing agony that you would rather endure.

When he opens his eyes to glance at you, a shy little smile playing on his lips, you are unable to stop yourself from leaning forward and pressing your foreheads together. The frames of his glasses dig into your face, but you do not care. Still, you make a mental note to do this again sans spectacles. He reaches up to wrap both arms around your shoulders. He is much more affectionate post-orgasm than you would have expected, but you have learned a great deal of things about him today that have equally surprised and delighted you.

“Good?”

“Very,” He presses a small kiss against the side of your mouth. “I need a moment. Fuck.”

You cannot help it. You beam like a moron. You can add ‘Sex God’ and/or ‘Certified Orgasm Donor’ to your extensive list of talents. Let yourself have this moment before you must return to the cruel world of responsibilities and capital. You lower yourself onto Kim, soft gut resting against lithe stomach, closing the gap between the two of you entirely. You remember the copious semen a moment too late.

“You’ll ruin your shirt.” Kim protests weakly, but his heart is not in it. He sounds half-asleep.

“Whatever. I have a spare.”

Several spares, actually. A veritable wardrobe of bold fashion statements just waiting to be made as you limp around Martinaise.

The pair of you lie there in satisfaction until the threat of impending sleep urges Kim to shove your uncooperative mass off of him. You sigh, sitting up on the bed and removing your blazer and shirt. You use a dry section of the shirt’s fabric to clean Kim’s torso and cock before it is unceremoniously balled up and tossed in the bin, alongside the equally as tarnished washcloth and handkerchief. Sorry, Isobel. The room is muggy with the smell of your sex.

You look through your things for another shirt, pulling yourself together, and in time Kim stands and rights himself too. He wets (and wastes) another handkerchief going over his cock. The pair of you dress and clean in relative silence.

“Well.” You offer up to the air after several minutes, wincing only a little as you lean carelessly on your bad leg.

“Well.” The Lieutenant echoes.

The two of you wear matching expressions of smugness. That was some ground-shaking sex, and you both know it. You don’t need to say anything – following a successful conclusion to the murder investigation, this will happen again. It will probably even happen again following an unsuccessful outcome, unless that outcome entails significant maiming and/or death.

The Lieutenant lets you lead the way, and as you step out into the waning afternoon sunlight, the world seems just a little bit brighter.

#the sheer number of CWs lol #lmk if there's anything else I ought to mention - I tried to cover it all #this is extremely self-indulgent and got away from me but I hope some of you get something out of it! #RIP to everyone in the fishing village subjected to the noises coming out of that shack #nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

[devilscastle69]

Streaming t//diapt - Uru//shihara

Hi. Idek what to say about this one

summary: ur//ushihara makes a discover about his strteaming audience and his roommates demand that he capitalizes immediately.

---

The summer heat continued baking down on Sasazuka, and it was the perfect excuse for Urushihara to stay put in his closet, the one sad fan whirring and blowing warm air against his damp skin. The laptop continued generating its excessive heat which was decidedly preferable to the resident NEET to the fresh summer air. As Urushihara scrolled through the bountiful sea of videos, he recognized a familiar screen name: his own.

Darklord666 Clip 1

So he’d gotten popular enough to have fans clip his best hits. A smirk spread across his face. So much for his streaming hobby being a “fruitless endeavor.” 

3.k views. One week ago.

Damn, that’s more than ten times the amount of followers he had last time he checked, and this video had gotten this many views in the span of a week. He clicked the video and adjusted the volume and leaned in to watch which one of his builds or jokes had taken off.

📹

“Oh this sucks. The hair colors are so limited.” Urushihara pinched the bridge of his nose and sniffled. “Guess you guys will have to point me towards some…cuhh-uh…hKSHhh’ieh! tssch! Ugh. wait” 

He adjusted his headset before reaching around offscreen until he produced a tissue. “HehkShhhieh! Ihhshhh’ihh!”

“Rec me sombe custumb condtedt,” he amended. “Oh…yeah, it’s ndot a—hYSHhh’ieh! ndot a cold, just allergies.” He blew his nose.

“Wait, I can get it through the game? Is it free?” He sniffled. “Oh and thanks.”

📹

Comments:

dandelion222: what is he allergic to

S.finder: @dandelion222 He said later in the stream that it’s dust

snzgirl: bless him <3 

sneezy123: god hes so sexy

supersnzr: the video quality is so bad but the content def makes up for it ;)))

Okay that was odd. He can’t see what was particularly sexy about that clip. He’d been sneezing for half of it. He frowned and clicked the next recommended clip.  

Darklord666 Clip 2

📹

“hyhSHhh’yyu! Tschh’iu! hpt’chhhu!” 

Urushihara fixed his headset that’d been displaced during the sneezing fit and gripped it as another sneeze shook him forward. “hh…hehhh….wa-waihht…ihhgKSHhh’ieh!” 

He wiped the screen with the hem of his raglan shirt. “Ugh,” he sniffled, “fail. You didn’t see that.” 

📹

Urushihara’s frown deepened. What the fuck? Why did this one have even more views. He skipped over the comments in favor of clicking the next video.

Darklord666 Clip 3

📹

“Yeah I wanted to do hh- rags t-to…wait…hehh…” Urushihara abandoned his sentence and squinted his eyes, nose scrunching in the lowlight. “HehhkSHhhihh!” This time the spray was visible and he hadn’t bothered to turn away from the laptop this time. “IhhSHhhiehh!”

“Oh hey thanks for the gift sakurablossom7.”

📹

Comments:

asters_in_bloom: heyy good find but maybe you shouldn’t put their screen names on these clips…

S.finder: @asters_in_bloom Others have commented the same thing. Going forward I’ll be sure to fix this.

asters_in_bloom: @S.finder ok but you didnt????

Dustyboi: i need him. im subscribing immediately. id pay him sm to sneeze all over my—

Urushihara stopped reading. Immediately. That didn’t stop autoplay from playing the fourth clip. The closet door abruptly flung open and he nearly tumbled out again, but managed to catch himself this time. He let out a groan of disdain before the inevitable scream fest began. 

“Urushihara!” Ashiya pointed at him as if he’d finally tracked him down. “Please stop talking to your friend “Chat” and come help me fold the laundry for once! Or if you’re going to sneeze nonstop, perhaps you should dust this time.”

“You’re just gonna complain that I’m doing it wrong,” Urushiahara complained, removing his headset. The sound of the clip did not stop, and it was then that he realized his headphones weren’t even plugged in. He blushed and paused the video.

“Why are you sitting here watching video tapes of yourself?”

“I’m not.” Urushihara shuddered and closed the computer. “Just figured out why I got so many gifts last stream.” 

Oh he’d fucked up. Royally. He could feel the way the atmosphere in the room had shifted, the way Ashiya’s mind had shifted into budget mode. “Gifts?”

“Money.”

“And why is that? How much money did you make?” 

This was humiliating, and yet something about the situation warranted sharing. He should want this to die a secret, but there’s a certain catharsis in discussing it. Without moving his eyes to meet Ashiya’s, he finally answered, “Apparently people like seeing me sneeze.”

“There are people who enjoy—”

“Like, dude, you don’t understand. They really really like it.’

Ashiya furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth as if he was going to ask him to get off his ass again.

“I don't even understand,” Urushihara added. “Like I made 1,500 yen last stream.”

“What do you mean they really like your—”

“You know how Sasaki Chiho looks at Maou when he does literally anything? Or how Sariel looks at—”

“Please speak no further.” Ashiya sighed and tilted his head. He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “To summarize, people are giving you money because of your incessant sneezing?”

Urushihara nodded.

“And you’re sure Chat is not paying you to cease and desist?” Urushihara opened his laptop and showed Ashiya the comment bold enough to make not just one but two demon generals blush. “No…further evidence requested. Excuse me.” 

Ashiya left the apartment. Perhaps it was all too much for him. Though Urushihara had at least eight thousand years on the guy, Ashiya had always been more old fashioned. Explaining that there in fact other people out there who would spend their free time watching other people play a game rather than playing it themselves had been a headache in itself. It was much easier to let him think he’d been video calling some guy named Chat. 

Urushihara quietly decided he was done streaming for the foreseeable future and ordered another delivery of a few bags of chips and a bottle of iced tea he could easily hide in the closet. He would’ve completely erased all memories of today were it not for what happened when Ashiya returned. 

***

“Dude, what the hell?” Urushihara cried when Ashiya yanked the closet door open once again. He was holding a bouquet of flowers with a sticker with a brightly marked down price. “What the fuck.”

“Do you remember the incident when Miss Sasaki brought his highness lilies?” Ashiya asked. A dark aura spread across the devil’s castle as his eyes zeroed in on the fresh chip bag in his hands. “I see you ordered delivery while I was out.”

“You’re a demon! Why are you trying to pimp me out to the sneeze fetish community?” he whined, fighting against Ashiya’s grasp on the door. 

“You call Chat this instant! It’s time you started contributing financially!” 

This was a mistake. All of it. Urushihara’s eyes were already starting to water from the putrid scent of the flowers Ashiya was continuing to wave in his face. 

“It’s time you learned the value of money. His majesty slaves over a hot grill all day, serving the people of Sasazuka, and he does not do it so you can waste all his—”

Speak of the devil. Maou entered the apartment. Surely he’d stop this human rights violation. 

“Dude, help!” Urushihara called out. 

Maou looked between his two demon generals, one holding lilies up to the other one's face as he shrunk back into the closet.

“Did Chi send those?” he asked obliviously.

“Ashiya is trying to pimp me out to strangers online!”

“He is exaggerating!”

Maou’s posture sagged. “What’s really happening?”

“Welcome home. As it happens, my liege, though his phrasing is crude, it is not far from the truth.” Ashiya moved a step back from the closet and faced Maou. He briefly explained the situation to Maou while Urushihara tried not to sneeze. It was becoming more difficult by the second. He brushed a few bright yellow flecks off of his shirt as Ashiya explained Chat’s sadistic tendencies.

“Okay, that…” Maou sighed and shot Urushihara a sympathetic glance. Hail Satan. “I get that we need the money, but—”

“He spent a day’s wages on Sims expansion packs.” Ashiya handed him a folded receipt from his pocket. 

Fuck.

“You’d better fuckin call Chat!” Maou hissed, pointing at him. “You think I’m made of yen?? I was saving to take Alas Ramus to the movies damnit!”

Urushihara sighed and opened the streaming app. He had indeed acquired another fifty followers since his last stream. 

“Dude, pleaseeee—”

“Let’s go, tech squad. How much yen can you make in one stream?”

“My record is uh…”

“2,000 yen, sire. I’ll bet with these he can double it.’

“Don’t come out until you’ve made at least 2,000,” Maou sighed. 

“Hi and welcome back to my channel. How are we doin’, chat?” He glanced up at the two demons standing over him and accepted the bouquet from Ashiya. He didn’t even have to take a whiff for the onslaught to continue. The scent alone was enough to drive his nose crazy. He couldn’t keep from scrunching it and sniffling, though each sniffle would bring in more of the sickly sweet odor. “So I got some of the expansion packs y’all rec…recommended. How about I make the, uh…cat—wait, I’mgonnasnNDSChhh’iuhh! H’KSChh’ieeh!”

Maou handed him a tissue pack, glare still intact. 

“We had a cat once. I was really allergic to it.” Urushihara blew his nose into a one-ply tissue before continuing. “No, that’s not why I’mb sneezing now. ‘Mb allergic to a lotta stuff apparently. Anyway…hahhhkSHhh’iew! Anyway, thangks for the gift, uh, Dustyboi…”

Save me, Dustyboi.

“Mby roombate can really stretch out 500 yen, y’kndow. Thanks, s-sakurabl-...hehYSHhh’iehh! Ihhpshh! Tschh! heh’ESCHhh’yew!”

Ashiya had moved on and went on to make dinner in the background. Maou sat in front of the TV with the volume on zero but with the captions on, though he seemed far more interested in Urushihara’s performance. 

Urushihara blew his nose again, knowing he’d have about a minute before he’d have to blow his nose again.. “Sorry guys, I’mb ndot gonnda be…able to…hh…st-stop sneezi’gg. Hehh’KSHhh’iehh! Mby roombate got flowers that I’mb allergic to. Yeah it’s that…it’s that bad. Anyway, here’s Silverfish the cat. We’re gonnda—H’ESCHhh’iew!—add himb ind…”  

Urushihara finalized the Devil’s Castle on the Sims and sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Yeah, Ashiya’s throwi’d himbself at Maou again. Just like in real life…”

“What did you say, you creatin?” Ashiya yelled from the kitchen which was, of course, part of the same room they were all in.

“Yeah they’re both hombe,” Urushihara said into the mic casually before losing control of the sneeze he’d managed to keep back for almost a full minute. “h’ESHhhu! Fugk…Ugh, thank you for the gifts. Mbaybe I cand afford better tissues now.” 

“Oh no, he has to pay off his debt first. Otherwise he’ll have to sell some of this streaming equipment,” Maou called from the living room portion of the room.

That did it. If Maou understood one thing about this world, it was appealing to the consumer. 

“Thangks for all the gifts, guys. Wow. Three-thousand yen!” Urushihara coughed and sniffled again. “Btw guys, I’m gudda be uploadi’gg a recordi’gg of this streab to mby chandel and all future streams. I’mb gudda…sndeeze…ah-agaid…Ehhshhh!-KShhh’ih! H’KSHhh’iew!”

He muddled through another twenty minutes of gameplay before people started expressing genuine concern in the comments. Suddenly there were about ten people regularly writing “bless you,” and “are you okay?” in the chat along with others calling him “poor thing.”

“H’KShhhieh! It’s okay, I’mb used to it. This is—hah…ieSCHhh’iew! KSHhhh! dothi’gg cobbared to whed we had the cadt I swear.”

In the background, Ashiya began setting the kotatsu for dinner. Somehow between the horny viewers and the sympathetic ones, he’d made five-thousand yen. 

“Okay…sorry guys. I godtta go. I’ll…I’ll be back tomborrow.” He gave a peace sign which he knew was ironic coming from him, but nobody needed to know that. 

“Five-k yen is gonna drop tonight, okay?” He then walked the bouquet to the trash can. Ashiya got up and stood in his way. 

“Save this one for tomorrow. He pulled a single lily out and left it on the table.” 

“Doesn't it suck busting your ass to make money only for someone else to spend it?” Maou asked with a smirk, crumbs sticking to the inner corners of his lips. 

Urushihara shrugged and went to wash his swollen face in the bathroom knowing that eventually the video of the stream would surely gain some income and exposure too. Next he’d report the accounts stealing his clips and make his own video compilations. And then nothing will come between him and owning his very own Switch. 

#snz #snzblr #sneeze kink #snz fic #sneeze fic #tdia//pt #i love luci #my writing #my fic

[sneezydarliing]

Sensitive Jouno. Allergic Jouno. Just Jouno having the worst time in a place he’d rather not be in but what can he do? NOTHING. L bozo skill issue (he’s very cute)

THANK YOU for the ask and actually pushing me to post this ,,,, very nervous about it

White Hibiscus

words- 1,093

fandom- BSD

characters- Jouno, Tecchou

The day had begun normally enough. Tecchou sat in the back of a vehicle, idly snacking on an egg, Jouno to his right. The man was sitting as far away from him as he could, brows furrowed and lip pushed out in a way that could nearly be described as pouting, twitching with every crunch! as Tecchou took another bite. Tecchou used this as his entertainment until they arrived at their destination, the end of an old dirt road that transformed into a wide field. Both Hunting Dogs exited the vehicle, and Tecchou gave the driver a brisk nod of thanks as they began to drive off. 

Jouno had already begun to stalk off, clearly having no intentions of waiting, but Tecchou caught up with ease. He huffed at this, turning to Tecchou with an indignant look. "Why was i even paired up somebody like you? You breathe so loud, it’s messing me up.” Tecchou just shrugged. He wasn’t close to the other, but was well aware of his highly enhanced senses, and subsequent awareness at anythidng that seemed to bother them- which tecchou was a common victim of. 

Jouno just grumbled, walking faster. Tecchou looked down at the flowers they were trampling as they walked, noticing the pollen coating both of their boots, reflecting off of the dark surfaces. He had been smart enough to take allergy medicine in the morning. Jouno, however, stopped suddenly, standing straight. Tecchou froze too, waiting for whatever Jouno must have sensed to appear. But nothing did. A beat passed. Tecchou shifted forward to get a closer look at his partner, and the issue became obvious. 

Jouno’s nose was scruched up, and Tecchou watched as he gave a quick gasp- then another- and then his hands flew to his face as he pitched forward.  "hi'chiew!! hh.. hiD'sHhu..hH'CHhih!" he shook his head gentle and gave  a wet sniffle- before furrowing his brows and sniffling again. Finally, he lowered his hands, revealing a pink- tinted nose that wasn't far from matching the slightly faded red in his hair. 

Tecchou raised an eyebrow. Somehow, he'd never seen the other sneeze, or atleast not paid enough attention to realize it. Jouno sniffed again. "Stop staring at me. Have you never seen somebody sneeze?" "Not like that." He replied, kicking a stray stick out of his way. To that, Jouno gave a quiet grumble he didn’t bother to decipher. They continued to trudge through the field, stopping occasionally while Jouno let out more fittish sneezes.

 Tecchou chose to ignore this, examining the various flowers as he walked, and stopping as a small group caught his eye. He picked one up, gently, looking closer at the white and pink petals. It looked almost created in Jouno’s image, who was standing with his arms crossed, waiting impatiently for the other to finish. Tecchou could not find himself caring. He sat down, and began to munch on one of the snacks he kept in his pocket. 

The other, clearly did not appreciate this. He stomped over, giving the nature around them absolutely no thought, and pushed Tecchou roughly by the shoulders. He barely budged. Did not bother to say anything. He made no effort to listen to Jouno's complaints until they devolved into an itchy sounding cough, and looked up to find the other still standing over him, eyes streaming. 

None of this seemed to stop him from bothering tecchou, apparently, because he continued to kick and shove at him. Tecchou quickly had enough, and quickly threw Jouno down to the ground beside him, giving a quiet huff of laughter at his indignant squak in response to the jostling. 

"I can't believe you! We need to get moving, I'm not going to stay here overnight with you." Tecchou quickly tuned him out, instead looking at the bits of yellow pollen that had settled into Jouno's hair. 

The other seemed to notice it  too, if the way his features scrunched up said anything.  He watched in amusement as he lifted a gloved hand, equally covered, and scrubbed at his irritated nose, clicks of congestion audible as he worked it back and forth. This must have only worsened whatever tickle he had, because his breath caught in a quick gasp. 

“hhIH-shihht’cHhiew- i’sHHhiew! hIh.. snF!” Tecchou raised an eyebrow. "Is there something bothering you?" Jouno snapped his head to face him, angry expression destroyed by the way his nose continued to twitch, clearly not done with him. 

"This- hH'knGt'ue! This is all.. alhh'cHhiew- hiD'TCHiew! your fault.. hihh.. hH-tSCH'ue!" Jouno stuttered through the sentence, nose twitching in between each release. Tecchou just hummed as his chest rose again, and let out yet another pitchy sneeze. 

Jounos nose seemed far from satisfied, red-rimmed and wet and trembling with need, but even as he roughly pawed at it with a wrist, a rare sliver of pale skin exposed, nothing seemed to come out of his hitching breaths. 

"Are you okay? We can turn back." Tecchou did not consider himself a cruel man, but the rare opportunity to turn Jouno’s teasing back on himself couldn't be resisted, even by himself. 

"I- holdonn-t’SCh’ieww! need you to… to get your sorry ass up so we can keep moving." With that, he suddenly sits up, dislodging a stray flower petal that had been resting in his hair. Tetchou watched it float down gracefully, before making its home perched gently atop the gentle slope of jounos sensitive nose. The effect of the touch was almost instant, jouno struggling to even get his hands up to his face in time as he gasped. 

"t’CHhiew- aH’TSChi- SCHhiew! hehh.. hIH-tCHue! f-fuck.. t’SChih- t’SCHh- hiDt’SHiew!" Tears flood freely from Jouno’s red-rimmed eyes, face flushed as he panted. He gave tecchou an empty glare, looking angry and possibly embarrassed- though it may have judt been the irritated redness in his face. 

"hhIh- how are you not being affected by any of this this?!" He demanded, as if somehow accusing Jouno of placing the pollen in the field himself. 

"Antihistamine. I took one before I got here." Tecchou replied, blank-faced. It was common knowledge for the Hunting Dogs that the modifications to their bodies heightened their immune system, in turn causing all of them to have allergies. 

Jouno just huffed, caught in yet another tickle, evident by the quick "hiDt'sHhih!" Muffled into a wrist. It was tired, almost weak, but Tecchou wouldn't dare to say that. He simply stood, turned toward the slowly approaching clearing in the distance, and began to walk again, another sneeze the only confirmation Jouno was following. 

#sneeze kink #sneeze fic #snz #sneeze stuff #sneeze #posting my rare fic #my cat is getting mad at me rn because i wont let her sit on my lap its tough times out here #anywasy please enjoy this im actually kinda proud of it #credits all go to waterfall whom i dont want to tag and bother for the idea that Jouno tries to talk through his sneezes

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Library Magic (NSFW)

It's that time again! Today's release is a spicy one, and possibly one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Library Magic

Word Count: 3,300

Content and Warnings: snz (male), NSFW

In which Oraion accompanies his Mistress Noelle to study dusty, old arcane tomes at a library, with predictable results.

----------------------------

The Tigate Librarium had stood in the central square of Tigate City for so long, no one was certain anymore if the Librarium was named for the City, or the City for the Librarium. What was certain, however, was that the current Head Librarian, Ms Ogtrop, was both the most efficient and organized Head the Librarium had ever employed, and also its most terrifying.

At six foot three, it was uncommon, though not entirely unheard of, for Demon Lord Oraion Leroux to meet those of his height or slightly taller. Encountering a mortal he needed to crane his neck to look at, though, was about as common as convincing a lindwyrm to play fetch, so the fact that he needed to tilt his head a fair degree to make eye contact with the Head Librarian was a novel, if somewhat unnerving, experience. The green cast of her skin and short tusks jutting from her lower lip only added to the singularity of the encounter. A full-blooded orc was a rare sight these days.

“Those books are on the second floor, Section B, fifth row, third bookcase, shelves four through seven. All books in that Section are restricted, and as such can neither be checked out nor leave the Librarium. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, ma’am.”

“Good. And if you think for a moment that you could possibly get away with smuggling any volumes out… Don’t. I will know. I always know.”

Oraion did his best to appear as a physical manifestation of conciliation. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

“Good.” The Librarian paused and took a moment to look Oraion up and down with her golden eyes. “My shift ends at eight o’clock, by the way.”

This, at least, was more familiar territory. Throughout his long life, Oraion had turned down countless hopefuls, though this time he had to admit he was tempted. The thighs that peeked out below the hem of Ogtrop’s skirt—the cut of which was painfully inadequate at fulfilling any sort of intended modesty on her towering frame—looked like they’d crack a watermelon like a walnut. A night with her promised to leave you with bruises and bite marks—and you’d thank her for the privilege. Instead Oraion inclined his head with grace.

“You flatter me, madam, but I am afraid I must decline. I am already spoken for.”

“Hm. Pity. However, your integrity is laudable. Well then, please note that eight o’clock is also when the Librarium closes, so you would do well to conclude your business before then.”

“Of course. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Yes, yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

The imposing Librarian turned on her heel and marched off, her heavy footfalls reverberating through the floor with a rhythmic beat. Oraion’s gaze lingered just a moment on the way her full hips moved, then he returned to where his Mistress, Noelle Violette, waited by the entrance, wringing the end of her scarf.

“Were you able to find anything out?”

“I was indeed. The Head Librarian gave me the location of the arcane tomes you’re looking for—come, I’ll show you where they are.”

He guided Noelle to where Ms Ogtrop had indicated, passing along the rules for the handling of restricted books as they went.

“They can't be checked out? I suppose that makes sense, but… Augh, that means I'll only have a few hours to study them! I was hoping to take them back to the inn with us tonight and then bring them back before we leave to go home tomorrow…”

Oraion chuckled. “And did this plan of yours involve any sleep?”

A light blush of pink came to Noelle’s fair cheeks. “Well, some I’m sure, but this is a rare opportunity! I could always catch up on sleep later. Besides, that won’t matter if I can’t check them out. I’ll just have to use the time I do have wisely.”

Row after row of shelves were stuffed with a multitude of tomes. The air was laced with the scent of old paper and leather. Once they located the desired shelves, Noelle browsed through the volumes, pointing out a number of titles with great interest and enthusiasm.

“Oh! Look at this! They have a first edition copy of Nolan Kingston’s The Grimoire of Stars! And these scrolls—they’re from Tsothatan’s Noth-Yngath Esoterica! Just look at all of these: Artum Codex, Librum of Ninai, The Book of Far Realms— Oh my goodness, they have a copy of Tome of the Watcher! After it was published, the author Soth Sholei disappeared, and no one ever found out what happened to them!”

As she babbled excitedly about the texts, she handed book after book to Oraion until he was carrying a sizable, and somewhat heavy, stack. He couldn’t help but notice a thin layer of dust on most of them. Just the thought of it made his nose twitch. A smirk tugged his lips: perhaps this little study session wouldn’t be as boring as he’d feared.

“Mistress, I think perhaps this is enough to get started, at least. In fact, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to get through all of these before the Librarium closes.”

Noelle gave a little start, like she was waking up from a dream. “Oh! You’re right, I-I’m so sorry. Let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

Nearby were long, oaken tables surrounded by a large number of stout chairs with plush seats, all of which were presently vacant. The entire section of the Librarium they were in appeared quite deserted. Oraion carefully placed the stack of books on the table and took a seat next to Noelle, pulling his chair against hers. There were no arm rests, so they were close enough to touch, especially if Oraion leaned in.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read a bit over your shoulder? There might be something I can help with, after all.”

“Oh, um, a-all right.”

He ducked his head so his lips were close to her ear and dropped his voice.

“Always nice to have one’s nose in a good book.” He brushed the tip of his nose against the outer edge of her ear for emphasis. He felt a shiver run through her.

“Oraion, I-I don’t think now is the time…”

“Oh, of course, Mistress. My apologies. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your studies. Shall we begin?”

He took the tome from the top of the stack and placed it on the table in front of them.

“The Book of Sorcery. A fairly straightforward title.”

He flipped open the dusty manuscript with a flourish and probably a bit more force than was strictly necessary. In the light of the arcane reading lamps that hovered above the table, little globes of light encased within intricate brass cages, he caught a shimmer of swirling dust particles. Things were bound to get interesting now.

“So, Mistress, what would you like to review?”

“Hm, let me check the table of contents.”

As his Mistress pored over the book’s pages, Oraion felt a feathery flutter ripple through his sinuses, making his nose scrunch slightly. He said nothing, of course, but kept an eye on Noelle’s reaction. She hadn’t noticed yet, so he ran a finger beneath his septum and drew in a quick, sharp sniffle. Noelle’s leg against his own went tense for a second—she was definitely paying attention now. Oraion tried not to let his satisfaction show on his countenance.

“Um, m-maybe this section on conjuration? I would really, uh, like to know more about how you’re able to conjure things, you know, so easily.”

“Ah, you mean like this?” With a grin he held up his left hand and snapped his fingers, summoning his handkerchief. After all, he was going to need it shortly.

“Y-yes, like that.” Oraion noticed that Noelle’s gaze flicked from the cloth in his hand to his face, and back. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she was looking for in his face. As that feathery feeling intensified, he was certain his nose would be flushing pink soon, if it hadn’t started already.

“Well, the truth is -snf- that I don’t actually, ah, c-conjure anything. -sniff- I merely summoned it. I—” It was growing difficult to keep his breathing steady, and his eyes were beginning to water as his eyelids fluttered. Still, he could quite clearly see the pretty blush forming beneath Noelle’s freckles on her cheeks, along with the blossoming arousal he sensed within her. She squirmed in her seat.

“O-Oraion…”

“Oh dear, h-how terribly inconvenient. -sndf- These old b-books: they muh-must be du- heh- dusty…”

Below the table, he ran his right hand up her leg, squeezing her thigh while at the same time he pressed the handkerchief to his nose.

“ih-hiih- … hiihh! hiiHH’ISSHIUU!”

Through his hand on her leg he could feel the little jolt of pleasure and excitement she felt. He didn’t often get the chance to tease her in public like this. It made her titillation all the sweeter, the tinge of embarrassment she felt. She might not openly admit it, might even outright deny it or grow annoyed with him, but she could not hide from him that it got her even hotter.

“Oraion! S-stop that!”

“Y-you know I can’t heh-help it, Mistress. It’s the- the- eh-heh-heh! mmnh- the dust- HEHHSHIU!”

Noelle looked around nervously.

“B-but, you’re being loud! We’re in a library!”

He leaned in and nuzzled her earlobe, even as he felt another buzzing prickle building.

“Afraid we might gehehht in t-trouble? -snnff- hehh-hehhehh!”

“Y-yes!”

Oh, but she tasted so sweet like this. Gods, he would fuck her right here on the table if she wanted, library rules and propriety be damned. She would never go for that, of course, but that didn’t stop him from imagining it. Just how wound up could he get her, he wondered? He attempted the herculean task of holding back the itch that burned in his sinuses.

“B-but Mistress, you know heh-HEH! nngh- h-how teh-terribly ah-haahhllergic I am to du-dust. I ca-can’t hehhehhelp how sne- sne- sneezy it meh-makes me…”

He kept his nose touching her ear as his nares flared, letting her feel every twitch. As he did so, he slid his hand further up her thigh, pressing his fingers between her legs. He couldn’t last much longer, and if he had anything to say about it, neither would she.

“Th-the m-more I heh-heh! hold bahaahck, the w-worse it g-gets!” He gave a particularly wet sniffle right next to her ear. “Oh no- I-I’m guh- gonna- ehh-heh! M-Mistress, I n-need to sneeze!”

Certain he was about to incur the wrath of Ms Ogtrop, Oraion could not stop his chest from heaving as his nose crinkled.

“hiihhhIIHHhhh!”

With a little sound of desperation Noelle leapt up and grabbed his head, shoving his face directly into her chest and holding him there by hugging him with both arms. The fabric of her blouse pressed against his face, with his nose squeezed directly between her soft breasts. His hands found her hips, and he grabbed hold as the tickle overtook him.

“hhhchhfff! hh-isshhh! nnn… hhih- hii-hhssshhiuh! aeshhiu! … eh! … heh! … hehh-CHSSHT! CHSSHT! HISSHHHTT!”

What would have normally been a powerful and vocal fit was instead muffled and subdued as Noelle wrestled it into submission with the luscious mounds of her chest. Once Oraion’s sneezing subsided, she relented and loosened her death grip on his head, allowing him to at last come up for air. He looked up at her standing over him as he sat back, sniffling wetly. Her entire face was flushed a lovely bright scarlet—a color he was perhaps a bit partial to. His gaze dropped back to her blouse, where he found he’d made a rather wet spot between her breasts. He summoned an apologetic look as his gaze rose back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry, Mistress, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

To be fair, the books truly were dusty. It would have gotten to him at some point anyhow, so why not help it along and get it over with? Still, Oraion supposed he had earned the scolding he was no doubt about to receive.

It took him rather by surprise, then, when Noelle instead grabbed his chin and forced her tongue into his mouth. He was quick to adapt, of course, sucking on her tongue and chasing it with his own when she pulled it back. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her towards him until she was straddling his lap. She draped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck as she continued to kiss him hungrily, sucking on and biting his lips and tongue. The lust that burned within her intoxicated him and stoked his Hunger.

He supported her back with one hand while the other loosened the catch of her leather leggings and slipped inside. She was warm and wet and waiting for his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside her. The feel of her became his entirety: the way she enfolded his fingers, the slick sweetness of her tongue in his mouth, the building pleasure that flowed into him more and more.

Noelle brushed the tip of his nose with her own, sending a ticklish wave through his sinuses.

“C-careful -snf- it’s still pretty sensitive…”

“Oh dear,” she murmured as she nuzzled him again, “how terribly inconvenient.”

Even as his breath caught she kissed him. The buzzing prickle spread, making it hard to concentrate, but his fingers did not stop their rhythmic stroking.

“M-Mistress, I… I n-need to- heh-HEH!”

It wouldn’t take much to send either of them over the edge. Oraion could hardly keep his eyes open, and he felt more than saw Noelle’s fingertip gently tease his irritated nares.

“W-wait- Y-you’re guh-gonna m-make me- ih-hihh-HIHH!”

Her hand still behind his neck twined into his hair and shoved his face down into her cleavage.

“hiihh-CHHWFF!”

Once more his sneeze was muffled by the supple flesh of her breasts, and in that moment her pleasure poured into him like a river breaking through a dam. It washed over him in waves, and he let himself drown in it as her hips bucked over his lap. Her pleasure became his own, no telling where one ended and the other began. Each held onto the other for dear life, Noelle clutching Oraion to her chest as he hugged her to himself with his arm around her back.

As they both came down from their shared euphoria, Oraion realized he was biting Noelle’s breast through her shirt. He did not remember making the conscious decision to do so, but she didn't seem to mind. He let go and looked up at her. She was taking her hand out of her mouth—she had bitten the side of a forefinger to keep herself quiet in the stillness of the Librarium.

He kept his eyes on her face as he slowly pulled out of her. The sweet expression she made and the little sigh that escaped her were the perfect dessert to his delicious meal. She opened her soft brown eyes, her cheeks still flushed and rosy, and she leaned in to kiss him once more. He nipped at her lower lip with a sly grin.

“Still afraid we're going to get in trouble?”

“Yes, but now I care less.”

Her lips touched his even as she giggled, a sound that twisted her ever deeper into his heart. Falling for her was a terrible idea, he knew that, but moments like this, the happiness she gave him, made him powerless to resist her gravity. No one made him feel this way, not since his first love, so long past that it may as well have been in another world entirely.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching broke them from the hold of the afterglow, and Noelle hurried back into her own seat as she adjusted her clothing. She flipped open the pages of the book and leaned over them like she’d been studying them all along, though her face was still quite red. Oraion found his handkerchief had fallen on the floor at some point, and he quickly scooped it up and wiped off his fingers.

The hulking form of the Head Librarian strode into view, carrying a library cart in her hands. Oraion imagined her leaning over to push it normally, and he got a pretty good idea of why she preferred to carry it. She placed the cart down and filed away a few volumes on a nearby shelf. Oraion heard Noelle breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

"Everything all right over here? I thought I heard some sort of commotion, and you’re looking rather flushed, Miss."

“U-um.” Noelle’s voice came out in a terrified squeak, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Thinking quickly, Oraion lifted his handkerchief to his nose as though he were wiping it, but instead he gave his nostrils a quick tease.

“S-sorry, it’s my fault, I- I- hih- ih-hihh! HIIHTCHHiuh!” He managed to muffle the sneeze by pressing the cloth firmly over his nose, which he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of how it had sounded into Noelle’s shirt. “Nguh -snnff- Sorry, my a-allergies are acting up, and- heh! heh-CHHFF! -snf- I’m afraid I’ve rather embarrassed her with the noise. -sdnf- This is a library, after all.”

The orcish librarian narrowed her eyes. “Hmph. Just keep it down, and do not disturb the other patrons, please.”

“I-I’ll do my best, ma’am… hhihghshh!”

Appearing satisfied, Ogtrop picked up her cart and moved on. Once the sound of her footsteps had faded, Oraion couldn’t help but laugh, smothering the sound behind a hand. Noelle playfully smacked his arm.

“I don’t see what’s so funny! We could have gotten into so much trouble!”

Though her words chastised him, a thread of laughter wove through her voice as well.

“You’re the one who jumped me!”

“Oh, and you didn’t stir up all that dust on purpose?”

“You know it would have happened sooner or later! Now, do you want to keep bickering and draw Ms Ogtrop’s attention again, or do you actually want to study these arcane tomes?”

“Fine, but this is not over!” She went back to the table of contents and found the page she had initially wanted to review. “Now, I believe we were going to talk about the use of conjuration before we were, ahem, interrupted. Weren’t you saying that you don’t actually use conjuration?”

Oraion grinned and placed his arm across the back of Noelle’s chair as they both leaned over the text. “Yes, that’s right. You see, conjuration is the art of creating something from nothing. Were that true, then the handkerchief wouldn’t exist before it appeared in my hand. I would literally be creating it from magic. What I do is a form of summoning…”

While Oraion continued his explanation, Ms Gwendolyn Ogtrop, Head Librarian of the Tigate Librarium, continued her work of filing away the book returns in Section D. She heaved a sigh and tried not to let her envy weigh too heavily on her mind. Men of that caliber were rare enough, but the fact that this one had adorable sneezes too? That human girl didn’t know what a treasure she had. Although, with how red her face was, perhaps she did…

Ogtrop tried to push it from her mind as she tucked another book away. Someday the perfect man for her would walk through that Librarium door. She would whisk him off his feet and into a whirlwind romance, instead of just another link in a lengthy chain of one night stands. Someday happily ever after would happen for her, too.

At least, she could hope.

#accidental mistress #oraion the allergic incubus #noelle the awkward witch #snz ocs #snzblr #snz #snz kink #sneeze kink #snzfic #sneeze fic #sneezefucker

[anditvanisheslikemist]

October 10 - Colds

From this prompt list. Last year; this year; AO3 (where they will eventually end up).

First week of September

hh'heh.... heh'TSCHIEW!

"Oh, Jamie," Izzy sighs. "Already?"

He sniffs and shrugs. "The students are back. Happens every year."

"You'd think adults would be better at containing their germs."

He laughs, but it crackles into a cough. "You're giving the undergrads way too much credit here." He coughs some more, and then tips his head wryly. "And the grad students, for that matter."

.

Third week of September

"Headache?"

Jamie looks up from rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah." His voice is tired.

Izzy takes his hand across the dinner table and rubs her thumb over his. "Are these even new germs? You just barely stopped coughing from the last cold."

"Feels different," he says, resigned, eyes closed, and then has to pull away for a sudden hhh-TCHHH!

"I'll make you some tea."

.

Second week of October

"Oh no."

Jamie barely even lifts his head to look at her as he closes their front door. She can hear his breathing from here, ragged and swollen. He sits down to take off his shoes, and starts coughing. When he gets his breath back, he makes no move to finish dealing with his shoes, just stares, unfocused, at the point where the wall meets the floor. When Izzy sits down next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders, he tips into her and buries his face against her neck.

"You're really warm," she murmurs, brushing his hair off of his forehead to get a better reading with her cheek and then her palm. He shivers at the touch and she hums. "That feels like a fever, love." She moves her hand down his jaw, feeling the swollen glands underneath. "Why didn't you come home early, hmm?"

He shrugs and shivers against her again, and then ducks down for a painfully strong tshhhhIEW! that leaves him sniffling desperately and leaves Izzy's sweater wet with the spray.

"C'mon, shoes off." She rubs his back encouragingly. "Let's get you into bed."

He manages to get his shoes off in the time it takes Izzy to grab a paper towel from the kitchen so that he can blow his nose.

"I can't believe Matty didn't send you home three hours ago." She helps him up and threads an arm around his waist.

"He had some big meeting," Jamie rasps as they walk. "It was just me holding down the fort." He turns his head away from Izzy to cough in the general direction of the floor. "He yelled at me when he got back, though."

"In a caring way."

hh'hhh... h'TESCHIIU! He sniffs hard, and swipes at his nose with the crumpled up paper towel. "Yeah."

"Okay. You lie down, I'll get the cold meds." The stack of handkerchiefs that normally lives in his dresser has taken up residence on his bedside table. There hasn't been enough time between illnesses to warrant putting them away. "Do you need anything else?"

His sinks into his pillows, eyes teary with fever and the persistent need to sneeze. "You."

It's not that she wants him to be sick, yet again, but god, it does make her melt. She leans down to kiss his forehead, and then his lips. "I'll be right there."

#sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz #hindsight 'verse #anditvanisheslikemist writes #october prompts