Snizzzzzzzzzzzzy

36 yr old gay trans dude sailing the snz seas || 18+ only 

[peach-plumb-pear2]

I really really don't want to get sick right now. Been sneezing nonstop and feeling miserable and I'm both dreading potential illness and cursing my dick lmfao. I don't even want to be aroused and mentally I am the last thing from it but self noncon I guess. Maybe that is the core of this fetish

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Contagion, mess, sex, sexy neti pot stuff: personal fantasy

Thinking about playing around with someone else with the fetish who is really congested...spreading the bed with a waterproof blanket and towels. We start off with a neti pot and play around with how they move their head, closing one of their nostrils...they're so congested the water can barely enter their nose and sinuses. We try tilting their head and plugging one nostril, and suddenly the pressure adjusts and water and snot flood from their mouth. I let go and the stream diverts through their nose. After the pot has emptied, our clothes soaked in slime, I help them blow. Sneezy, snotty sex or co-masturbation follows, then a shower

[peach-plumb-pear2]

On my mind

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Trans men, little play, inducing, contagion

Your little one has a cold, so he faces you in your lap, knees in the seams of the couch cushion. He mouths at your neck, rubs his runny nose against you, sighing from the ache of his warm, floppy body stretching around your biggest cock. You straighten the two of you up, then gently induce him. He sneezes in twos and threes, so fucking itchy. You're careful not to make his nose bleed, because he has to sneeze until he comes from that and the pressure of your cock in his hungry cunt alone.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Fetish-y couple who love contagion but who also need to not spread every single cold to the chronically ill partner...Non CI partner A getting a drippy, sneeze cold. They try their hardest, B masking up as much as possible, A covering every sneeze, B wearing gloves and washing their hands every time they help A blow. Forehead and cheek kisses will have to do.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Fell asleep last night thinking of Ed passed out on Stede's chest, drooling snoring and sliming him, while Izzy pushes his body against Stede's other side, giving away that he's only half asleep with shuddery sneezes every now and then. Stede is exhausted and vibrating with joy

[peach-plumb-pear2]

I love Izzy but he would absolutely work sick and hack and sneeze everywhere and blow his nose loudly and give everyone his horrible cold

[peach-plumb-pear2]

exploit

ed/izzy, trans femme ed, trans masc izzy, izzy has the fetish, background stede/ed, office AU

part one

It was really a problem that Bonnet had made them continue to share an office after both the acquisition and the subsequent divorce. “Can’t split up my dream team–even if you. Ah. Split up. Outside of the office,” Stede had said when Izzy had asked to move to somewhere, anywhere else on the floor.

The problem had gotten worse when Ed had started blowing Izzy under his desk when she felt bored, which was often.

The problem would escalate whenever Ed was mad at Stede, or when she felt the itch to get under Izzy's skin again, or when she was just horny or touchy.

And the problem would reach its peak when she knew she could take advantage of Izzy's stupid, ridiculous fetish.

On January 3rd, Ed sauntered into their shared office, her hair braided in an elaborate crown, her favorite star and moon earrings dangling from her perfect ears, her eyes matching her lavender turtleneck over a slinky maxi dress that skimmed her slim body and just barely revealed the outline of her hips and cock, her thick-soled silver combat boots, and worst of all for Izzy, her pink-tinged, glistening, twitchy nose. He prayed she was doing that weird Tiktok makeup trend of putting an insane amount of blush on her nose.

"Morning, Iz," she said with a sigh, sitting down at her laptop and slumping into her chair. She promptly let her head tilt back and let out an itchy sounding sneeze. In the fluorescent lighting of the office, Izzy could see the spray billow in the air.

"Ed--if you've got a cold you need to work from home. Or go the fuck back to bed," Izzy said gruffly.

Ed palmed her nose dramatically. "I've got so many calls to make and you know I can't concentrate at home."

"Well, I can't concentrate with you sniffling and sneezing all day," Izzy said, already feeling his face heat. Ed fucking knew. He’d stupidly told her two years into their marriage, when she’d caught him wanking to a .wav and pestered him until he told her what was going on. Heh-ZZTCHuuu! Ed sneezed again, openly again, spray again filling the air around her. A few strands of her hair fell free from her braid, and she tucked them behind her ear as she sat up quickly, her energy level seeming to be totally unaffected. She logged onto her computer and proceeded to wade through the email that had accumulated over the holiday. She sneezed every five to ten minutes, each time without covering, sometimes ducking her head to the side, sometimes sneezing directly onto her computer screen and then groaning and wiping it with her sleeve. Each time Izzy felt himself get more and more wound up, his cunt literally dripping by 11am.

"You have to go home," he groaned.

"I can’t, Izzy," she whined, pulling a tissue from the box near her and blowing delicately. "I've got to make my first call." She put on her headset carefully so as not to disturb her braid. Izzy noticed that her cheeks were pale, the freckles that he used to love to count more visible than usual. Ed dialed and sniffled, then cleared her throat as Izzy presumed her line connected.

Izzy got on Slack and messaged Bonnet.

Can you stop by the office and convince Ed to go home? She has a cold. -Izzy, don't you think it's rather impolite and possibly illegal to comment on the health of your coworkers? You're going to get a lot of comments from me about my health if you don't intervene. She's sneezing constantly. -I don't recall you having a problem with this in the past. Just–please say something? -I see she’s on line four, so I’ll come by when she’s done with her call. It’s not that bad of a cold. I think it only lasted for two days for me.

Izzy ignored the fact that Bonnet was happy to share that he was the origin of this viral disaster.

Snf. Snffffff. "Yeah, sorry, Vane--you know how it is this time of year. I'm always coming down with something...anyways, how are things looking with the plans for the expansion?" Ed started fiddling with her tissue, occasionally dabbing her nose with it. Izzy furiously worked on his report, typing as loudly as possible, until he got to a part where he needed to code a visual in R. "Oh, that's a shame--we'll probably..." Izzy looked up. Ed's eyes were half-shut, her long lashes nearly grazing her cheeks. "P-probably need to--fuck--HehZZTSCHHH! Eh-ZTCHHuu! Sorry, bless me." She laughed, bright and cheerful. And evil, Izzy thought . "And sorry for cussing. Where were we?" Ed blinked, a tear running down her cheek leaving a smudge of mascara. Izzy wanted to crawl to her and wipe it away with his thumb and then suck his thumb and taste her salt and--fuck! This was a fucking problem.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

part two

“Bye. Have a nice afternoon,” Ed said. She hung up the phone and: HehISCHHH! HehTISCHOO! She pulled a fucking handkerchief embroidered with pansies out of her sleeve, then dabbed at her nose afterwards.

“Fine. I’m gonna go home,” Izzy said, clicking around and saving files to his flash drive.

“What?” Ed croaked. She sounded genuinely surprised.

“Don't be a cunt,” Izzy said, glaring. He started packing his tote bag. “You know what you're doing to me and you're also going to give me the fucking head cold you caught off Bonnet. It's not–it’s not OK, Eddie. You don't get to exploit what you know about me.”

At that moment, Stede popped his head into the office. “Israel–what are you doing?”

“Just took my temperature and I'm running a fever, so I'm going to go work from home,” Izzy lied. “Don't want to expose Ed to whatever bug I have. Common fucking courtesy.”

Ed sniffled. Izzy shot a look at her. She looked inches from crying, her cheeks now flushed and her brown eyes watery. Good, he thought. Let her sit with that.

...

Once Izzy got back to his apartment, he found he couldn't work at all. The lovely fucking pink-tinged face of Ed Teach swam around in his head, making visualizing data in any meaningful way impossible. When 5 o'clock hit and he turned off do-not-disturb on his phone, it buzzed incessantly with notifications. He had just unlocked his phone to read through them when he heard a key turn in the lock of his door.

He rushed to the living room, where he saw Ed taking off her silver puffer jacket and wrinkling her nose in an effort not to sneeze. She failed, and stifled three harsh sneezes, ducking her head towards her chest. Her dangling earrings shook, reflecting light.

“Hey, Iz," she said miserably. The pansy handkerchief reappeared as she dabbed her running nose, but she also fished a little bottle of lavender-scented hand sanitizer from her jacket pocket and rubbed some on her hands. Unfortunately, the scent overpowered her and she ducked her head into her elbow and sneezed twice more.

“What the fuck are you doing here?" Izzy asked, crossing his arms.

The cat appeared from nowhere and laced herself around Ed's ankles. She smiled sadly down at her, then looked up to Izzy. "I wanted to…I don't know. Apologize? Also I feel like crap and you're the only person I want to see."

“You only have that key for cat sitting,” Izzy said stubbornly.

“C’mon, I break into your apartment all the time,” she said, smiling. Izzy felt his heart melt. He gestured for her to go sit on his couch, and wordlessly turned to the kitchen to make them tea.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

part three (ending)

As he puttered around waiting for the kettle to boil, he practiced what he might say. Why are you on my couch, Ed? Bonnet not good enough for you? Or maybe Is your life's wish to torment me? He couldn't really put to words the weird mix of anger, resentment, love, and straight up want that bubbled inside of him as steadily as the water in the kettle.

He brought two mugs to the couch, placed them on the coffee table, sat, put his hands in his lap, and stared at the rising steam. “You OK?” Izzy asked.

“Why’d you run out of work today?” Ed asked, rubbing her nose. Izzy glimpsed her emerald green nail polish. She had dark circles under her eyes, like she'd tossed and turned all night, and he knew she had, because he knew she couldn't fall asleep when she couldn't breathe through her nose.

“Don't be stupid, Ed,” Izzy said, grabbing his mug and drinking. Then, he handed Ed her mug.

She let the steam waft near her face but didn't drink. “I know that your fetish is…what it is,” she said. “But I wasn't trying to like. Tease you or anything.” She sipped, swallowing like her throat hurt.

Izzy snorted. “You're always teasing me. You finally want me now that we're divorced and you've moved on.”

Izzy looked up and saw that Ed was tearing up again. She looked down into her mug, then wiped her eyes with her wrist, leaving a smudge of eyeliner. “I never didn't want you, Izzy.”

”The murder-suicide attempt kinda suggested otherwise.” Izzy took another swallow of tea, and it burned his tongue.

Ed sniffled. “I get it. I'm really sorry, Izzy. I've apologized to you. I’ve stopped using. Stopped running. Got on meds and went to therapy. And I know it can't ever be enough.” She took another sip of her tea, still not looking at Izzy.

Izzy leaned over and snatched a tissue from the box and handed it to her. She blew her nose, and then the crying really got going. Izzy took her mug and placed it carefully on the table. She was too fucking lovely when she cried, and Izzy also knew as he grabbed more tissues–

“HehISCHHH! HehKCsshhhh! Eh-hihschoo! Fuck.” Ed laughed sadly, taking the tissues from Izzy and wiping down her shirt. Crying always made her sneeze, even when she didn't have a five-alarm head cold.

“How did you get so fucking sick?” Izzy asked.

“Stede gets these two-day colds and I get them for a week,” Ed complained. “Or Jack, or Anne. Who knows. I feel like a third of the city has this stupid cold right now.”

“You really shouldn't go to work sick,” Izzy said, gruff. “Not for my sake but yours. The acquisition is gonna happen now. And if it didn't, Bonnet can suck my left nut. Wouldn't be your fault.”

“Will you hold me, Iz?” Ed asked, looking up at him with her shimmering, pink-rimmed eyes. “Just hold me and rub my back? You can do whatever–get off, use your vibe, I’d like it. But I'm achy and just want to be held.”

“Of course I'll fucking hold you,” Izzy said. He stood, holding his hand out to her.

When she stood, he pulled her into an embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder.

”Me too,” he said, kissing her collarbone under her turtleneck. “I never didn't want you.”

“Wish it had been enough,” she said softly, then sniffled.

“Oh, you'll never be rid of me,” Izzy said. He put his ear to her chest and listened to her heartbeat. “You know too many of my fucking secrets.”

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Anyways I am also rereading my favs including my own favs of which this is one

[peach-plumb-pear2]

I'm getting a cold and Long COVID has ruined any and all excitement I can feel about this. Like. What if it's Actually COVID and I have to go through another year of extreme fatigue and unending nerve pain 🙃

[peach-plumb-pear2]

And even if it's just a cold, all viral illnesses now knock me into brain fog and all day bed fatigue

[peach-plumb-pear2]

I'm getting a cold and Long COVID has ruined any and all excitement I can feel about this. Like. What if it's Actually COVID and I have to go through another year of extreme fatigue and unending nerve pain 🙃

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Heated Rivalry sick Shane/Ilya

Ilya heard shuffling footsteps and frowned. Hollander normally lit towards the door when he heard knocking, and Ilya had a good guess as to why he was still standing here in the hotel hallway, despite the risk of being seen.

The door opened, a cloud of camphor drifting over Ilya as he slipped in. Shane stood before him, arms crossed and the hood of his gray sweater up, pink-rimmed eyes dazed.

Ilya heaved a sigh. "'A bit of a cold,' eh? No wonder you lost."

Shane frowned, then suddenly ducked his head into his elbow and sneezed violently, three times in a row. He winced, and Ilya realized Shane's cracked rib hadn't fully healed from Price slamming him into the box a few weeks ago.

"Go back to your room," Shane croaked from inside his sleeve. "I should have told you not to come."

Ilya clicked his tongue, then moved forward and pulled Shane into his arms. Shane buried his face in his shoulder; Ilya flooded with disquieting warmth, especially when he felt Shane rub his nose on Ilya's sweater, like a little boy. "You need to be in bed. I'll put you there," he said, taking Shane's chin in his hand to inspect him.

Shane looked miserable, the guard he'd mounted to get though the game decimated. His nose was angry and red, a scab on the corner that Ilya knew would be maddeningly sensitive. He smelled of both muscle rub and Vicks, an eye watering mixture that seemed to barely penetrate Shane's nose. He breathed though his mouth, almost panting. Ilya pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead. When he pulled back, Shane had a goofy, slight smile that morphed into a glazed expression before he sneezed again, angling them to the side.

Ilya laughed, unsure why he was so moved to tenderness. "Bud'te zdorovy," he murmured, pulling Shane close to his chest.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Some additional Thoughts

Before Shane can wipe his nose he is tucked into bed, Ilya straddling him, coffee stirrer in hand

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Heated Rivalry sick Shane/Ilya

Ilya heard shuffling footsteps and frowned. Hollander normally lit towards the door when he heard knocking, and Ilya had a good guess as to why he was still standing here in the hotel hallway, despite the risk of being seen.

The door opened, a cloud of camphor drifting over Ilya as he slipped in. Shane stood before him, arms crossed and the hood of his gray sweater up, pink-rimmed eyes dazed.

Ilya heaved a sigh. "'A bit of a cold,' eh? No wonder you lost."

Shane frowned, then suddenly ducked his head into his elbow and sneezed violently, three times in a row. He winced, and Ilya realized Shane's cracked rib hadn't fully healed from Price slamming him into the box a few weeks ago.

"Go back to your room," Shane croaked from inside his sleeve. "I should have told you not to come."

Ilya clicked his tongue, then moved forward and pulled Shane into his arms. Shane buried his face in his shoulder; Ilya flooded with disquieting warmth, especially when he felt Shane rub his nose on Ilya's sweater, like a little boy. "You need to be in bed. I'll put you there," he said, taking Shane's chin in his hand to inspect him.

Shane looked miserable, the guard he'd mounted to get though the game decimated. His nose was angry and red, a scab on the corner that Ilya knew would be maddeningly sensitive. He smelled of both muscle rub and Vicks, an eye watering mixture that seemed to barely penetrate Shane's nose. He breathed though his mouth, almost panting. Ilya pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead. When he pulled back, Shane had a goofy, slight smile that morphed into a glazed expression before he sneezed again, angling them to the side.

Ilya laughed, unsure why he was so moved to tenderness. "Bud'te zdorovy," he murmured, pulling Shane close to his chest.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

H/eated Rivalry stuff

Just thinking about Shane feeling miserable, sneezing and dripping and coughing all through a match, texting Ilya that he has a cold so he can't "meet up," and expecting Ilya to make fun of him about it. Which he does, in between making Shane take sips of ginger ale and nibbling his ear as they sit up in their hotel bed, watching bad TV.

Shane is not doing well with this; he wants to melt into a pile of goo. When Ilya spits in his hand and starts stroking his cock, whispering "That's it, kotenok," in his ear, he comes way too fast for his taste and feels the sludgy mix of shame and love and want in every inch of his body.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Idk some Heated Rivalry thoughts

Shane realizing halfway through a hookup that Ilya is sick as a dog and getting half offended half obsessed with this turn of events

Scott ribbing Shane for getting a cold. "Wasn't Rozanov sick at last week's match?"

[peach-plumb-pear2]

There is a special kind of misery in being a disappointment to everyone. This is something about chronic illness I didn't expect, couldn't have prepared for. I literally can't predict when I can do anything, or take on anything, or even be an object of interest to someone. My family has forgotten me. I didn't expect that to hurt as much as it does. My supervisors and coworkers no longer trust me to do my job--and they shouldn't. I can't be a good friend or partner to anyone. I can't fulfill any commitment. I can't even escape and be alone.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

I never expected COVID to ruin my kink. Having Long COVID has made the idea of being sick so fucking miserable I can't even entertain a fantasy about it anymore. The one thing I could force myself to feel pleasure for. I can't even knit these days bc on top of everything I have a repetitive stress injury that is so bad I often can't feel my hands. Just fucking useless

[peach-plumb-pear2]

There is a special kind of misery in being a disappointment to everyone. This is something about chronic illness I didn't expect, couldn't have prepared for. I literally can't predict when I can do anything, or take on anything, or even be an object of interest to someone. My family has forgotten me. I didn't expect that to hurt as much as it does. My supervisors and coworkers no longer trust me to do my job--and they shouldn't. I can't be a good friend or partner to anyone. I can't fulfill any commitment. I can't even escape and be alone.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

Stede in early days of dating Ed and now Izzy, inviting himself over to hang because they have gone radio silent (according to Stede, Ed is sending him regular Complaints) for a few days because they're both sick.

He gets to their place to find Izzy half asleep sitting in a kitchen chair in front of the stove making soup ("I'm fucking FINE, just too tired to stand up. Or go sit back down on the couch"). Every trash bag is full of tissues. The air is full of their smell and also minty with chest rub and shower bombs. Ed is under five blankets propped up on the couch playing a video game.

It's just like. A bro cave of germs, and it's usually neat and clean as a pin.

[peach-plumb-pear2]

OFMD lol

Stede waltzing in and seeing Izzy with his hoof up on the table, flipping though some books. Ed is tied to a chair in front of Stede's mirror, hands bound, hair carefully braided back.

"What's going on?" Stede demands.

Ed sneezes; he's had a terrible cold for a few days now. Spray goes everywhere, and Stede realizes the mirror is speckled with Ed's sneezes.

Izzy shrugs without looking up. "He wouldn't rest. Tried to convince me he wasn't even sick."