not to be actually really horny but. someone whos been fighting a horrible, exhausting head cold and comes home and moans loudly with misery. it's stuffy and heavy and miserable-sounding. and it's just as stuffy when their partner picks them up off the couch later that night and carries them to the bedroom as they moan softly with want-- they feel so sick, they need someone to ease up all the congestion. their partner lays them gently in bed and they moan again their low, stuffy, hoarse moan as their partner pulls down their pajama pants and underwear, and then they moan again its softer but just as plugged up as their partner gently, lovingly massages their aching, throbbing clit/dick, and they moan and sneeze loudly and groan and rub their red nostrils and moan as their partner rubs a little firmer.
"That's quite the cold," their partner says, and teases their hole. they moan softly again with desire, then let out another hot, wet, spraying sneeze, their nostrils flaring, their lips chapped.
"I dodd feel well ad all," says the sickie with a snuffle, and then they gasp through their chapped lips and swollen, red throat and their partner gently starts to finger them, rubbing at the same time. they feel so full all of a sudden, like they need to burst, it feels like its all theyve been trying to do for the past few days since they got sick.
"Poor baby," says their partner, easing in and out slowly, comfortably. "You sound terrible. Just let me take care of you. Maybe you'll finally be able to get some sleep."
Another moan from the sickie, higher and yearning but still plugged with snot. They sniffle thickly. this cold has wrecked their sleep for the past three nights, replacing it with restless, stuffy snores and snorts and frequent awakenings where they sneeze and huff and cough and snort as they lay awake in the dark, breathing through their mouth. their partner knows because they've been sleeping near them the whole time. they're so stuffed and so tired and achy and sick.
their partner goes faster as they relax against the pillows and let them. they moan again, a soft, stuffed up moan laced with the beginnings of laryngitis, and then they moan again with pleasure, and then they let out a loud, hoarse, cracking groan of exertion as they cum, then sigh as they relax against the bedsheets, breathing hard.
their partner redresses their underwear and pajama pants and kisses their forehead. "you better take it easy with this bug," their partner says. "it sounds like you're losing your voice to all that moaning."
the sickie's sinuses are now a little unstuffed from the exertion, and they close their eyes and cough. "I thigg...I thigg I did..." they whisper. their voice is shot and crackling with exertion, but theyre satisfied and sleepy now, even if their throat suddenly feels worse than before.
"Oh, honey," their partner says. "okay, no more talking. you better get some rest to fight this thing."
their partner leaves them to sleep with the blankets pulled up to their chin and a cool ice pack pressed against their forehead. they do, indeed, get some sleep-- the first they get while this cold rages, full of stuffy snores that further hurt their voice box-- but in the morning their voice is officially nowhere to be found, and their partner makes them stay sick in bed. they really, truly don't feel well.
"your nose looks so itchy, baby. you gonna sneeze? yeah, that's it, let it all out, sweetheart. bless you! you're so full of sneezes, aren't you? goodness! you all done? yeah? here, let's get you cleaned up. can you blow for me, angel? good, good job, you're doing so good, love. feel a bit better? your nose must be so sore, it's all red and chapped, poor baby. do you want me to put some vaseline on it? yah? would that help? ok. c'mon, honey. let's go tend to that nose of yours, then get you back in bed. can we cuddle? of course. you can fall asleep on my chest and i'll play with your hair, would you like that? hm? yes, i'll bring the tissues, it doesn't sound like your nose is gonna let up anytime soon."
We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a 3.3k word SWH scenario with some stuck, getting-sick sneezes from Rio. Agatha can’t decide if she’s annoyed or aroused. There’s a hint of photic at the end, as a treat.
I just want to point out how much Rio teases Agatha for being sensitive when… um… well… 🙃
Inspired by a prompt @moonlitkit from @reydeyflummyx759z’s emoji prompt game. 🤬Make Up Your Mind! + 🙊Stay Still, Stay Silent
I plan on filling the other prompts eventually. I currently write two sentences a week so it could take up to 3-5 business months. 😭
Warning: mess 💦
***
“One… two… three…”
Nicky stood in the center of the living room, fingers splayed over his eyes as he began to count. Agatha could tell that he was peeking, but she kept her mouth shut. In a way, she was proud of him for cheating. He was always such a stickler for the rules, more with himself than with others, that she felt he deserved to break them every now and then.
When he got to four she hurried down the hallway, trying to figure out her next easy-but-not-too-easy hiding spot. In her haste she nearly collided with Rio, who skittered around her and into the bathroom with a passing apology. The shower curtains ruffled noisily as she threw them aside.
“Five, six, seveneightnine—”
“Hey!” Agatha called over her shoulder. She was okay with a little cheating, but now he was pushing it. “Slow down there, jackrabbit.”
“We’re ndot as fast as you,” Rio added, the words echoing slightly.
The tiled space also amplified the dull, congested edge her voice had taken on over the course of the day. Agatha wasn’t even sure if Rio had noticed it herself — she wasn’t the most self-aware when it came to getting sick. If she ever denied feeling unwell, it wasn’t due to shame (as if Rio even had the capacity for such an emotion), but what seemed to be a genuine disconnect between her brain and the rest of her body. It usually wasn’t until days into the illness, when her symptoms reached a level of severity and frequency that was undeniably viral, that she seemed to put two and two together — if Agatha didn’t already spoil the plot for her.
“Sorry,” Nicky said sheepishly. “One…” He waited about three seconds before continuing on to the next number. “Twooooo…”
We’re not that slow, thought Agatha, but whatever, it gave her an advantage. An advantage she used to… jump into the hallway closet? It wasn’t the most creative choice, but their small, two-bedroom apartment didn’t provide many opportunities for innovation. Not like her childhood home with its endless possibilities, some so obscure that she could — and often did — tuck herself away for days unnoticed. The solitude was exhilarating, freeing, and always worth the inevitable consequences.
“Eight… nine…”
Agatha hunkered down, backing up a bit to hide in the coats like a child in a department store. Except she wasn’t a child, as her joints liked to remind her whenever she did just about anything. They twinged in protest as she settled into an awkward stance.
“Nine and a half… nine and three quarters…
Reassessing her physical capabilities, she lowered herself into a sitting position to spare her ankles the stress. She heard footfalls and saw shadows pass by under the door.
“Ten! Ready or not…”
“Espera!” Rio called from somewhere down the hallway, sounding flustered. Sometimes she hopped between spots in a strategic effort to throw Nicky off her trail, but most of the time she was just indecisive. “Otra vez, en español.
“Está bien,” Nicky obliged, always eager to show off his Spanish. “Uno… dos… tres…”
Agatha let out a squawk as the closet door swung open. At first she wondered how he got there so quickly, but the figure partially silhouetted by the hallway light was too tall to be Nicky. It was Rio who peered down at her, dumbfounded, as if she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Agatha stared back up at her, just as confounded, before gesturing for her to hurry up and make a decision.
“In or out, in or out?” she asked, hands wheeling frantically.
“Siete… ocho…”
“Shit,” was all Rio said, before scuttling into the closet — much to Agatha’s chagrin, though she supposed it was her fault for giving her a choice — and closing the door quickly but quietly behind her.
“Sorry.” She crouched down next to her, her body and her scent filling her space. Agatha relaxed a little as she breathed her in. Maybe sharing a space wasn’t such a bad idea. “I panicked.”
Before she could reply, Nicky made his announcement from the living room: “Ready or not, aquí voy!”
“I love his Spanglish,” Rio gushed, her voice only slightly muffled by the coats surrounding them.
“Yes, adorable,” Agatha agreed, because it was, before putting a finger to her lips. “Now shh. This is officially a ‘no more talking’ zone, entiendes?”
Biting back the urge to gush over Agatha’s Spanglish as well, Rio instead pretended to lock up her own lips and toss the key over her shoulder. For a moment, Agatha thought she might actually stay quiet for more than a few seconds.
The excited pitter patter of small feet filled the apartment. Agatha watched under the door for movement, even though it sounded like Nicky was still in the living room. She felt Rio staring at the side of her face, like she was patiently waiting for her attention. As much as she tried to ignore her, it felt like denying the urge to scratch at a really annoying itch. Sure enough, when Agatha glanced her way, Rio smirked and said “Hey.”
Having already made it clear there was to be no more talking, Agatha didn’t humor her with a verbal response. She raised her eyebrows emphatically, intending to silently convey her irritation, but Rio chose to interpret the gesture as permission to continue speaking.
“Did you ever think we’d be back here?” Her grin widened when Agatha stared back, confusion bleeding into her annoyance. “In the closet?”
Agatha rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop her lips from curving into a smile. Rio chuckled, clearly pleased with the response, though she was less pleased when she turned and got a face full of cashmere. The sleeve of the coat dangled menacingly like boa constrictor hanging from a tree branch, grazing across the bridge of her nose. Sputtering, she swiped it out of the way before pushing out uselessly against all of the coats that were crowding her. In the faint light that spilled through the space under the door, Agatha could see her scrunching and wiggling her nose around, as if it were starting to bother her.
“You okay?” she asked, reluctantly breaking her own rules.
“Mhmm,” Rio hummed, though she didn’t sound or look too certain.
“Are you sure?”
Rio shook her head slowly, though the gesture seemed more reflexive than an attempt to communicate. Her nostrils twitched once before rounding out in an impressive flare. They remained frozen, two slightly quivering, imperfect circles, until the sound of feet pounding down the hallway distracted her. Both women switched their attention to the bar of light under the door, Rio bolstering the reddening tip of her nose with her fist as she hunched forward. Ripples of discomfort fluttered across her face, the irritation tugging at her features in a manner that was gentle but persistent. With a soft gasp she leaned into Agatha, who snaked an arm around her instinctively.
“Shhh…” she warned.
A shadow charged through the light beneath the door, there one second and gone the next, like a ghostly subway train speeding past a darkened platform. Moments later the door to the master bedroom opened with a creak, just as Rio shuddered with another involuntary breath.
“Mami? Mama?” Nicky sounded giddy but hesitant, as if he expected one of them to jump out at him the moment he stepped into their room. Rio often did, per his request, when they played hide and seek. Little weirdo liked being scared. “Are you in here?”
For some reason she lowered her hand, though it was obvious she still had to sneeze. Rio had never quite developed the habit of covering her mouth — seemed to actively avoid it, in fact, as if lifting her arm and holding it in place until she finished sneezing was more effort than she could ever be expected to sustain. Without her fist serving as a buffer, Agatha could feel her neck growing hotter with each desperate, panting breath. They reminded her too much of something else, a realization that had her blushing as she pressed a hand over Rio’s mouth, suddenly desperate to muffle the sound.
Rio grabbed ahold of her other hand and squeezed it in urgent pulses, as if sending out an SOS in Morse code. If it was a warning, it was entirely unnecessary — Agatha could already feel it in the pre-sneeze breaths that battered her palm like stormy gusts against a windowpane. She clamped her hand tighter around Rio’s mouth and nose, the tip of which was now squished against the base of her thumb.
“Get a grip,” Agatha hissed. She didn’t care that much about winning the game anymore, but she was curious to see how hard Rio would fight to keep from sneezing if she thought that was what Agatha wanted. “He’s going to hear you.”
Rio nodded, using a hand to hold Agatha’s in place as she rubbed her nose against her palm, but her breath was an energetic, untrained dog, and she was quickly losing her grip on the leash. Agatha could feel the pull of air towards her nostrils as her ribcage expanded, pressing against her arm and side as her lungs filled with air. All of this from some coat sleeve brushing against her nose… since when was she so sensitive? It was another piece of evidence that supported what Agatha already knew — Rio was getting sick.
She was torn between teasing her about it and chewing her out for not being more careful. Why was her wife incapable of leaving the house without bringing something back home, be it a virus, some random trash she thought looked neat, or a plant or creature in need of rehabilitation? Ultimately Agatha decided against speaking altogether, not wanting to add to the noise — Rio would be making plenty soon enough.
Or maybe not. After several seconds of tense discomfort she deflated in stages, leaning into Agatha with a shaky sigh that ruffled the ends of her hair. Pressing her nose into her shoulder, Rio rubbed it back and forth against the bony part with abandon. Her helpless breaths swept across her arm, making the hairs stand on end.
“It tiihhh… tih-h’iHHhih-ckles so bad, but it w-wote — h’HUH!…” Rio went rigid before relaxing just slightly, regaining control of her breathing for just long enough to sniff back the leaking congestion. “Id wode cuhh’b out…”
“Good,” Agatha said bluntly. “Keep it in there.”
“Aggieee,” she whimpered, then hitched, so adorably frustrated that Agatha nearly crumbled into bits like those stupid granola bars Rio liked to buy for Nicky.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, adjusting her position to relieve some of the tingling pressure. “Serve it an eviction notice?”
Their bedroom door slammed as Nicky scampered across the hallway to his own room. One of the toys he had lying in his doorway — a dog toy, actually, a thick, rubbery slice of pepperoni pizza that he just had to have when he and Rio went to the pet store for rabbit treats — let out a squeal as he stepped on it. The wail of the squeaker and his subsequent giggles drowned out the sound of Rio’s uneven breaths, but Agatha could still feel them fluttering against her arm. She clapped a hand over her mouth again, smothering the next gasp against her palm.
“If you’re going to sneeze,” Agatha said, “do it now.”
“H-h-heh!-help mbe?” Rio begged, grinding her nose against her hand in a last-ditch effort to soothe the itch.
“How?” Agatha asked, insincerely clueless, even as she began stroking her thumb up and down the length of her nose. On her third pass down she took a detour, tracing a nail lightly over the cusp of her left nostril. Something gave her insides a pleasant little tug at the way both nostrils trembled and widened in response to her touch. “Like this?”
Rio managed a nod before adopting a look so expectant — eyes narrowing into watery slits, tongue hovering between parted lips, expression somehow slack and tense at the same time — that Agatha rushed to readjust her hand. The urge seemed to stall then, leaving them both locked into distinct states of anticipation, before abandoning Rio altogether. Releasing her breath in a frustrated huff, she drew back and scrubbed circles against her nose with the heel of her hand. She sniffled wetly and fixed her wife with a look of betrayal.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked, petulant. “I was so close.”
“Aw, come on, you’re a big girl.” Agatha elbowed her lightly. “You don’t need me to help you sneeze, do you?”
“Ndo,” she replied, retreating into the thicket of coats with another sniffle. “I mbead… I‘d like your h-help, but if you doe — hh! — dote wandt—”
“I do want,” Agatha interrupted, taking one of her hands and lifting it to her lips. She kissed it slowly, watching Rio through her lashes as she melted like butter on hot blacktop, lust and ticklish discomfort competing for dominance over her hazy expression. “Now come here.”
Settling a hand on each cheek, Agatha drew her face closer to hers. Her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that she could see the glassiness in her gaze — another telltale sign that some tiny but mighty army was laying siege to her immune system. Rio pushed her cheek into the curve of a hand, her skin humming with heat, and swallowed with a slight wince. Agatha nibbled the inside of her lip, noticing more sickly details the longer she studied her face, and wondered if she should say something.
But then Rio whined softly, turning her face to nudge her crinkling nose against her left hand, and Agatha felt her brain short circuit. Talking could wait — she needed to take care of this first.
Keeping one ear trained on the hallway, she waited until Rio stopped rubbing her nose to lean forward and ease their lips together — slowly, gingerly, as if testing the temperature of a bath before slipping all the way in. Rio closed her eyes and clasped loosely at her wrists, her thumbs pressing into those tender spots where her bloodstream thrummed closest to the surface. She whimpered against her mouth as Agatha kissed her strategically, using her own nose to nudge Rio’s with the goal of coaxing it into action.
It didn’t take long for her breath to catch, forcing their lips to part ways. Her grip on her arms loosened, allowing Agatha to slip her hands free. She returned one to rest against her cheek, guiding her thumb provocatively along the contours of her nose. The other hovered close by, a hummingbird contemplating a flower opening to the sun.
“I — h’HHh!” Rio gasped, nostrils pulsing in time with her hitching breaths. “FuhHh’ck, I’be… heAHH! … h’h-ohh…”
“You’re what?” Agatha asked, even though she knew the answer — she just loved to keep Rio talking when she was on the cusp of a sneeze. Her voice took on a helpless, almost fragile sort of tension, like a supple branch bent to the point of nearly breaking, that drove Agatha absolutely wild.
“I’be…” Rio scrunched her eyes shut as she tried again, her eyebrows bunching together in concentration before drifting up languidly. “‘mbgodda — h-hH’huh! — godda s-sdeeze!”
“Then go ahead and do it, already.” Agatha affected an exasperated tone, as if she truly believed it were that simple and Rio was just choosing to be difficult. “You can’t expect me to wait around all day.”
That wasn’t true, of course — she would wait as long as she needed to — but she didn’t see any harm in speeding things along if she could. She continued tracing circles around her nostrils, her touch feathery light, until Rio turned away with a moan and a tremulous inhale. Layering her hands over her flaring nostrils and gaping mouth, Agatha held them securely in place as her head tilted back.
“AESHHh’oo! hH’ATCHHh!-uh…” Rio’s fingers scrabbled to grip at her Agatha’s arms again, anchoring herself to her as she pitched forward with another forceful “ATSCHhh!—h’huhh…”
As always, her sneezes were immodest, violent, and soaking wet. Even if she just gave away their position, it was worth it — not just to witness, but to actually feel the palpable wave of relief that washed over her just as the last sneeze drenched Agatha’s hands. Rio lingered in its afterglow, a plant basking in a refreshing sunshower, and Agatha was struck with an overwhelming urge to kiss her again, even as her nose ran freely down her lips.
Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, the reprieve was too brief for a blessing, let alone more kissing. Those three sneezes were nothing to Rio, a trio of tiny kitten claws chiseling away at an itch the size of an elephant. It usually took at least seven good, strong sneezes to satisfy the tickle once it got started, but when she had a cold, she typically had to hit double digits before her body would grant her a modicum of relief. Expression crumpling, she snagged breath after quavering breath before exploding helplessly into Agatha’s waiting hands.
“h’hiHh’AETSCHH! ESHHh’oo! ahHESHHhiew!” Rio shivered, dousing her skin with each shamelessly sloppy release. She sniffled noisily, an impotent attempt to reign in the congestion that was trickling from her nostrils. “Ohh, fuhh’hHUHh’ck mbe…”
God, if only. Had this been five years ago, Agatha would not have hesitated to turn this situation into a proper game of seven minutes in heaven, but they were parents now — they couldn’t be hooking up in the closet while their young son wandered the apartment unsupervised, though the idea taking Rio so spontaneously was distracting enough that Agatha almost missed her gearing up for another round of sneezing. Keeping one hand over her mouth, she rifled blindly through some coat pockets until she found one of the handkerchiefs she had stashed away. She shook it open before capturing Rio’s twitching nose between the folds.
“Give ’em up, buttercup.” Agatha smirked, teasing her nose through the fabric. “I know you’ve got a few more in there.”
“heh’hEHihh… ohh…”
“C’monnn,” she urged, jostling the handkerchief in encouragement. She could hear Nicky sprinting down the hallway, sounding so much heavier than he was. “Don’t get greedy now. You already blew our cover, may as well finish strong.”
“I’be— huhh-hh! g-gohhhda…”
“There you go,” Agatha said, stroking her hair and holding the handkerchief firmly against her nose as her eyes fluttered shut. “You’re close now, my love…”
“huh’ASZCHH!-ue—ahh… eHhhih…” Her chest rose, every muscle in her body clenching as her features crushing together. “hhH’ETSCHH-oo!”
Without warning Rio segued straight into blowing her nose, clapping a hand over Agatha’s to pin them and the handkerchief in place. She snuck out two unexpectedly whispery sneezes mid-blow, camouflaging them among the gurgling rush congestion. By the time she was finished the handkerchief was soaked and her nostrils were noticeably redder.
“Ugh,” Rio exclaimed, just as Nicky flung the door open with a triumphant “Found you guys!” before bouncing away and yelling something about it being his turn to hide. He didn’t look twice at Rio, who looked ten times worse in the full light from the hallway. She glanced up at its warm glow, jaw slack and eyes glistening with tears. They locked into a vacant squint, dark eyelashes fluttering as she drew a long, shaky breath. “hiIHHh-hh’huh… hH’DEHShhiu! EhhTSCHH-oo! hehHISHHh-oo!”
“Bless you!” Agatha said at last.
“Thagks,” Rio said, taking the handkerchief and giving another blow. She shivered from head to toe. “Nng, I thigk I’be cubbig dowd with subthig.”
“Oh?” Agatha asked, smiling to herself. “What makes you say that?”
A is very clingy when they're feeling under the weather and refused to stay in bed resting, despite B's best efforts and what seemed like endless insisting. so, after having gave into A's begging, B caved, and that's how they've ended up with A straddling their lap whilst they work at their desk. A has their head nuzzled into the crook of B's neck, their drippy, sniffly nose, resting on B's shoulder. A has been rubbing their nose against the rough material of B's jumper all morning, which has only proved to further irritate the already sensitive and red appendage. every so often, A muffles a fit of sneezes into B's shoulder and B will rub their back soothingly, offering "bless you"s and tissues from the box on their desk if A's sniffles sound a bit too soupy or after a particularly wet sounding sneeze.
So, I comm'd the amazing @hachiibun and he generously drew me a pic of my current catastrophe Loki, and it's just the CUTEST MOST BESTEST pic, yall. LOOK AT THAT NOSE SCRONCH!!! UNFFF
So I figured, (with Hachii's permission) it'd be a great opportunity to put my masterlist up for all of my Loki/Marvel content. I have small one-shot stories, and a big, convoluted time travel story involving all of the avengers. See the stories below or on my AO3 ACCOUNT HERE!!
Cleaning Up Asgard: TVA AU Loki goes to Asgard to fix a timeline mistake. He runs into Thor who finds out he's sick and demands to help him out.
Curiosity Contaminated the Scientist: Bruce/Tony fic with germaphobe Bruce and sick Tony based on a contagion post. A bit fluffy, a lot snarky.
A Window to Mortality: Agathario drabble where Rio uses mushrooms to enjoy a few sneezes before leaving back to the death realm.
Inconvenient Paws: Sam+Bucky fic wherein Bucky finds a cat and has to push through his allergies to find her a home.
Viral Paradox : A variant is trying to steal the mind stone, so Loki is sent back in time to Ultron era to not only stop it, but also figure out the source of an Asgardian virus making its way through the Avengers team. Multiple Chapters: p1, p2, p3, p4, p5, p6
A Familiar Rapport: Natasha is sick but she doesn't want anyone finding out. That doesn't work out for her though. 🎵This fic is paired with an audiobook.🎵
Scarlet Stifle: After the explosive scene in Civil War, Wanda gets training from Natasha and Clint but an illness makes her powers go haywire.
Paradise of the Architect: Pepper and Tony fight an illness after the events of Infinity War.
when a person’s nose is so chafed and raw from constant tissue usage that just touch makes them sneeze. Catching it the wrong way on a blanket, wiping under their nostrils with a finger, bringing up tissues to their nose to blow, even applying balm as gently as possible causes them to sneeze. The irritated red exterior causing irritation on interior, and suddenly their nose can’t stand being touched and sneezes at every contact as if the intrusion is inside the sinuses themselves. Like their nose is saying nope don’t even think about it! My tolerance right now for irritants is zero!
That story you're posting is ridiculously hot! I didn't even realize there were chapters of it up until now! I seriously love Kanchana the best! She's freaking adorable and relatable!
Thank you ever so much!
I didn't even realize that Chapter 6 would go the way it went! At that point, Kanchana basically wrote her own story there, and I couldn't really help it!
For your convenience, here's the whole series!
So far, there are about 20 chapters planned here, but this depends on the protagonist's self-control! For all you lovely lesbian lovers, this was a fun piece to write!
It took one william years, but I have returned with the winner of the poll: Florence/Rhoda sapphic smut with allergies and role reversal!
F/F, allergies, some light D/s, light bondage. 2.5k
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"Sit."
She's barely able to keep her voice from trembling, but Florence obliges nonetheless. It's strange, such a reversal of their usual roles that she almost doesn't know what to do with herself.
Almost.
"You've been a terribly naughty girl. I've heard word of your recent exploits--it was only because of my intervention you aren't at Venderbight."
"You don't know even a fraction of how bad I've been." Florence leans forward from where she's knelt at her feet, wrapping her arms round one leg and leaning her cheek on her thigh as she looks up at her. "What do you intend to do with me, to repay your favour?"
"I'm going to let you have something you rarely get to have of your own." She gently disentangles Florence from her leg, ignoring the smirk on her face as she does so. It is impossible to do anything to Florence that she isn't smug during--she knows she is thoroughly the one in charge, even when she is being put into the role of servant rather than master.
"Oh? My punishment is a gift?" She bats her lashes like some horrible little brat, twirls a lock of her hair around one finger as she watches her cross the room.
"It will be for me. Close your eyes." She takes a length of ribbon from the desk, ties it carefully round her lovely face to blindfold her. "I don't want you to see anything that's coming."
That does seem to change her expression, at least somewhat. That smirk falters, if only for a second. "I know what it is, then."
"And yet you aren't prepared for it." She takes hold of a small crate, postmarked from the Surface. "I spared no expense to retrieve these."
"You never spare any expense for me. I demand nothing less."
"Should I begin calling you Nana?"
"No. She died terribly and alone," she sniffs haughtily. "I intend to live forever."
"Stop talking."
She sets the crate down on a table, and carefully opens it. It's been opened once already, purely for the sake of inspection, but now they come to their true purpose. "It took several days for these to arrive, and calling in several favours with one of the Captains out of Wolfstack."
"Well, what did you bring me, then?"
She leans down, breathing the word more than bringing herself to say it. "Jasmine."
"Oh?"
"Do you remember that horrible perfume from that soiree last year? The one that bothered you so terribly?" She ignores the way Florence shifts, taking a gentle handful of curls to keep her in place. "Deep breath."
She hesitates, but does eventually capitulate and take a deep breath through her nose. She wrinkles it immediately in response--the scent of the flowers is strong, stronger than any perfume she's ever borrowed for the purposes of their illicit liaison.
"Isn't it beautiful?" She leans closer, enjoying both the scent of the jasmine and the way that it's already bothering Florence. "Deep breath, again."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
She sniffs, the sound of it already somewhat wet. "I said--snf!--no."
"That's not a part of your vocabulary tonight." Of course Florence is being a brat--she never allows herself to be taken without a fight. She gently tugs her head back a bit, giving a beautiful view of the underside of her nose. Her nostrils are beginning to grow pink, the color nearly imperceptible to an untrained eye. "Deep. Breath."
It isn't purposeful, but she does--a sharp sniff is enough to draw it further in, and she takes a shaking breath in response. "Hh...!"
"Does it itch so badly already?"
"Hh...hh'chu!"
"I don't think I heard you. Say again?"
Florence wrinkles her nose hard, but to her credit doesn't reach up to rub at it. Not that she'd let her, of course. She may be acting a brat, but she is studious in her role of playing the dog tonight. "Hh...snf! I said--I said--"
She trails off into silence, her jaw slack as she takes a few wavering breaths. She's utterly beautiful like this, delicately pink nostrils twitching and the soft, girlish gasps sending a shock of lust and heat to her core to witness. Seeing someone who is so brash, so rakish in her every action and movement, reduced to a hitching, squirming little dog at her feet...
She nudges the flowers closer to her nose, nearly burying it into them but unable to bring herself to obscure the view she has of it. "I said...say again?"
"Hh! 'chu! Hh'chU!"
A rare thing to see two so close on one another's heels. "Bless you, you poor thing...let me see you..."
"Is this your--snF!--plan for the rest of the evening?"
"No." She has to fight with every fiber of her being to keep her voice steady and confident. "You speak too much--I want that mouth to be put to better use than arguing with me."
Florence grins, even as she snuffles wetly again. "And what might that be, Ms. Westing?"
"I want you gasping my name."
"Will you--snff!--allow me the aid of my vision during this?"
"You don't need to see for this, pet--I want to see how pretty you are like this, and I want you to focus on nothing but the scent of the jasmine and the feeling of your pleasure--"
"--chU!"
"Bless--"
"Hh! Hh'SChu!"
"You poor thing...these are bothering you quite terribly, aren't they?"
"They are..."
"Then they were well worth the expense." She gently brushes a thumb along the underside of her nose, watching her jerk back in surprise at the touch. The soft sheen of moisture that greets the action, faintly shining on her skin, is one that makes her shiver.
"You're a menace."
"What is it that you often tell me? You wouldn't be interested in me if I behaved myself?" There is something so utterly erotic viewing the way she's knelt before her. She looks so strangely helpless, sniffling and blindfolded and on her knees like this. Her hay-fever is rarely triggered like this, and that's part of why she's so interested in it.
Watching this woman, one who's such a cad in her day to day life, helpless because of something so minute, so utterly delicate as a flower...it makes her nearly whimper from the sight of it. She rarely sneezes more than once, and even the once is often no guarantee; seeing her in such a state where she's already sneezed five times...
"You're--hh-! Hh'GSchue! Snfff..." She doesn't even attempt to finish the thought, just allows her nose to drip freely now. She permits her to reach up and swipe at it, just this once.
"To your feet." She hauls her up--it's easy enough, given Florence's spare frame and her own inherent strength (and desire)--but she's far more gracious to her than she's ever been. "Lie down."
She lays down on the bed, but is surprised when she introduces another length of ribbon, using it to bind her wrists to the bed posts over her head.
"Oh? We're doing it this way?"
"I want to ensure this once you touched your nose was the only time. I'm gracious--but not that gracious." She purrs in Florence's ear, nestled into the halo of curls. "If you need it, you'll just have to ask permission."
She laughs, a single harsh bark that stands more like a scoff than a laugh. "Should I kiss your feet as well?"
"We'll have to see what the evening holds for us."
Sliding her trousers down is simple enough, as is nudging up the chemise and tugging down her drawers. She could undress her all the way, but she has neither the time nor the care to spend so long in the preparation.
And, more to her embarrassment, she neglected to consider undressing her torso before she bound her hands like this. She finds herself grateful that Florence's eyes are covered so she can't see the look of mortification cross her face, nor the deep blush that warms beneath dark skin.
Instead of dwelling on it, she takes the jasmine and tucks the fragrant blooms into her jacket, a few sprigs tucked beneath her cravat to keep them more securely in place around her throat.
Florence cranes her neck away from them, but it's to no avail; there is no way for her to avoid the cloying scent of them, sitting so close to her beautiful nose and worming its way deeper into her. She takes a shaking breath, nostrils flaring into perfect pink "O"s.
"I'm hearing quite a lot of 'ahh' and not much 'choo'..." It feels perverse to even say, but it gives her a sick thrill she can't deny.
"Hh'GSShhue!"
She never covers, but now, when she doesn't even have the option to do so, it's beyond erotic. The spray speckles her suit jacket and down over bare thighs, glimmering in the lantern light.
"Bless you, pet." She's all heat and desire as she kisses her, only broken by Florence breaking away to take a ragged breath.
"Hh...h-hH-!?" That sounds more like her usual--a series of pitiful hitches that don't bring her any closer to the actual sneeze that relieves her.
Perhaps a bit of distraction may push her over the edge.
She reaches down and slips her fingers into her, savoring the way she gasps in surprise and then moans into the hitching. "Rhoda, I--hH-! Ugh...I need to--snfF-! sneeze..."
"You will. For now, I think you've got something more pressing to focus on..."
She whines, and whether it's something petulant or something pleasurable, she can't discern. Florence is already soaking, beautifully eager and receptive to her ministrations as she curls her fingertips deep inside of her.
"Hh..."
"Oh? Did you say something?"
She shakes her head, looking pitifully like a dog that's come in from the rain and sending those wild curls fanning around her as she sinks in harder against the pillow, back arching off the mattress a bit. "Hh...sdfff! Rhoda, I--ohh-!"
"Does that feel good?" Clearly it does, given the way it makes her squirm beneath her touch. "Then I will make you a deal, hm? If you sneeze for me, I'll give you more."
It sends a shock of lust to her core that nearly sends her crashing over the edge instead to watch Florence lean down, the petals caressing quivering nostrils as she nuzzles as close into them as possible.
"hH-!?"
"Come on, pet, you're almost there..."
"hH'GSSschue!"
"Good--"
" 'GSshhue! Gods--hH'UGGZzhue!"
That's good enough--more than good enough, even. Gods, she's dripping, on the verge of coming herself. "Good girl..."
Florence gasps weakly as she rubs her clit, letting her grind roughly against her for the friction and pressure she's been so desperate for. Her hands unconsciously close into fists and open again, writhing pitifully with the pleasure as she struggles against the restraints that threaten to dig into her wrists.
She's rarely terribly vocal during sex--never silent, but rarely does she make so much noise like this. Seeing her whimpering and coming undone at the seams, nose dripping freely down her upper lip and spray darkening both their jackets, soaked and sticky and needy in a way she doesn't get to see often--
She wants more.
She withdraws just enough that Florence is left without anything to use to chase her pleasure. "Oh? Did you want that? Perhaps your punishment isn't over...perhaps I ought to let you feel a bit of what you do for me during these encounters?"
That woman, the one who takes such pleasure in tormenting her, whines like a dog. Unable to do anything to turn the situation to her favour, she is at the mercy of her own actions.
"Yes...perhaps I ought to leave you like this until I'm satisfied you want it badly enough to have earned it." She brushes the edge of a nail along one reddened nostril. "Perhaps you can earn it."
"Hh...hdT-!?"
"You won't get any closer like that..."
Florence hitches, nose scrunching as the itch toys with her--
No.
No, she's doing this willfully, isn't she? She's holding back by choice, the only way she can reclaim some semblance of power in this situation.
"You're doing this purposely."
The smug grin that breaks in between hitches is confirmation. Very well then. If she wants to be forced, there would be nothing sweeter. The thought of it makes her nearly dizzy with need as she plucks one of the sprigs of jasmine from her jacket, twirling it between her fingers as if to test it.
Petals flutter as she brushes them beneath Florence's nose, wavering in her breath like a breeze. She's resorted to breathing through her mouth, and though she's aware the congestion is creeping in--she is acutely aware of every aspect of this--she knows it's far from settled in deeply enough to necessitate this. This is merely another aspect of her attempting to hold back.
She kisses her so suddenly and roughly that it leaves her no use of her mouth, no ability to avoid taking a breath through her nose unless she wants to suffocate. She takes a sharp, wet sniff that makes it impossible to avoid how deeply irritated she is by the scent that's crept so irrevocably into her.
She breaks away finally with a desperate, ragged gasp that sees her snapping forward with a series of harsh, wet sneezes.
"hH'GSChue! eEGSSHhue! hHGZZHhyue!"
Gods! She's going to come untouched if Florence keeps up like this. Her hands tremble as she reaches down and returns to stroking her, the overly eager and somewhat hasty bucking of her hips in an arrhythmic and irregular staccato as she chases the orgasm she's been being denied.
She practically cries out in beautiful agony as they begin to settle into something of a rhythm, one that brings them so close the line between them blurs into something that is purely pleasurable. "Again."
Not that she's given her any option otherwise, of course. "h-huH'GZZHhyue! eEDDJZzhue!"
She fumbles slightly in her touch, but she can see quite well that Florence is soon to unravel. The gasping moans and desperate squirming are so beautiful on her, just as much as the harsh shade of red along wet, quivering nares. She's gorgeous. She's utterly erotic.
She's falling apart at the seams.
She bites along her neck, sharply enough to certainly leave a mark, and leaving Florence to sneeze harshly over her shoulder. She wishes, desperately, to have undressed before this, that she could feel the spray from every one of this protracted fit. "One more and you're finished." It's a threat as much as an announcement.
"hH'GGZZHh'ue!" The beautiful mess beneath her collapses sweaty and trembling against the mattress, writhing beneath her as she withdraws from her to allow her to come down from it on her own.
She picks up one of the dislodged sprigs of jasmine from the bedding, crushed and lacking petals from the weight of their liaison, and gingerly removes the ribbon from Florence's eyes. They're red and positively streaming, just like her nose.
"There now," she smiles pleasantly, despite the way Florence scowls up at her. "I believe you've properly repaid your debt to me. Consider your account settled."
aliens abducting humans and messing with them for scientific purposes, becoming very interested in the reflex we call "sneezing". it's similar to coughing, but it cannot be called on command, and it seems to include a much more prominent vocal component.
yes, its purpose is curious, as is the purpose of that discharge that keeps escaping as they make you do it more. they're making you sneeze more and more in the name of science; to satiate their own curiosity; because they find it somehow cute.
and their sci-fi tech gives them a greater capacity to probe the depths of your nose--and this reflex. making an exact heat map of nerve sensitivity in your nostrils. using combinations of certain "human-safe" chemicals to make a scientifically precise sneezing powder. all manner of perfectly designed tools to force you to sneeze and take data at the same time.
you're walking home one night, everything is strangely quiet. then suddenly you see a bright light, just past the horizon. within seconds it grows into a flying saucer the size of a jet plane. it lines up over a few plants and animals--at one point, considering a cow, before finally settling its tractor beam on you and pulling you into the ship.
they strap you down and you freak out and struggle and they try to reassure you as they bring a tool down to your face, one which you shrink back from as much as you can, until eventually one of the less kind humanoids grips you by the back of the head and holds you in place as they guide each successive little tube up your nose.
"you're doing very good! just keep breathing through your mouth. this won't hurt a bit."
somehow you doubt that, but you don't have the time to think once they turn it on.
each little tube becomes a separate tendril of some great big mechanical tentacle monster they've devised, dwelling entirely in your nose. wriggling, twisting, jolting individual nerves with electricity, tickling every piece of flesh they can find, including pockets previously only touched by air.
the effect is instant. you start sneezing without end, without inhibition, without any semblance of control. you can't really tell, but you think you hear them murmuring and writing things down over the sound of you sneezing your head off over and over.
within an hour or so, they stop, remove the machine, engage some kind of machinery to sample your mucus off it (gross), pat you on the head, and send you back home.
you wake up the next morning with a stuffy nose and a fuzzy memory of last night.
Every time you have those rapid fits it just gives me goosebumps all over 😍😍❤️
Goosebumps all over update please?
This snask is 10000 years old and I try to get to them in order!
It's also so difficult to catch and record something like this as I def don't rapid fit every time and after 3 hitches it is impossible for me to physically start opening my camera! We got there in the end.
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
stormborns
