Soap

27 // they/them // 18+ please and thanks - DO NOT REBLOG TO NON KINK ACCOUNTS // new to snzblr // i write! // nsfw possible

[sniffly-soap]

Hello! Call me Soap.

Cold/flu, mess, contagion, buildup is my bread and butter

I like making fictional characters miserable! A few things I've written for - M/P100, H/aikyuu, A/ce A/ttorney, S/tar T/rek, D/CU, Y/uri on Ice.

I am very happy to take writing requests!

I'm a bit shy, but happy to meet you all!

Please, please, if you are a minor - DNI. Engaging with adults in kink spaces isn't safe or appropriate. I will block accounts that I suspect are not run by adults.

[silversinfinity]

Taste Of Your Own Medicine

*this is a fetish blog- non-fet blogs and minors DNI (no age in bio -> blocked)*

Fandom: J/ujutsu K/aisen

Spoilers: None

Pairing/AU: N/anaG/o, normal universe set during N/anami's Salary Man Era TM

Length: ~2k

Tags: sneeze fetish content, sickfic, sneezing via flu swab test, inducing, light contagion themes, mess

ANON, IT'S BEEN 84 BILLION YEARS... ARE YOU STILL OUT THERE 😭😭😭

It’s 5/7 for a few more hours here still, aka n/anag/o day!! So I’m taking it as a sign to kick myself in the ass and drop a little n/anag/o treat for you all 🤑 I loved writing this when I first started it, and then I lowkey forgot about it, and THEN couldn't find the document when I remembered it existed... 😭 it’s been a long journey for a mere 2k words, woof!

Fanfic Masterlist

It’s surely the flu. Surely. Anything else would feel far better than this. 

Far better than the brain fog, the lethargy, the massive pressure behind his eyes and sinuses. 

Far better than the fever that stole his sleep last night, left only to shiver, sweat. Too hot with a blanket, too cold without. 

And anything else would be far, far better than the body aches. That was the worst of all, the thing that dug the last nail into Nanami's personal coffin. Everything hurt, dull yet wickedly persistent- even the very hairs on his head weren't an exception. He didn't know hair was capable of hurting, and boy, he's finding it out the hard way.

And maybe, maybe, despite all that, it would all be far better, if not for the annoying weight currently clinging to Nanami’s shoulders.

“Get off of me.” Gojo only presses into him heavier, mocking the few inches of height he has on him.

“Come back to bed then,” Gojo whines in his ear. Nanami’s headache squeezes tighter at his temples.

He sighs, breath crackling unpleasantly in the lower depths of his lungs. Though grating, Gojo’s voice has never sounded so convincing. “Trust me, I wish I hadn’t left.” The misconduct in his lungs catches on the end of his words with a weak, wheezing cough.

It should motivate him, at least. The sooner he gets this done, the sooner he can go back to bed, and hopefully, sleep.

Gojo rests his head on Nanami’s shoulder, idly watching him tear open the plastic wrapping in his hands. “Why even bother testing?” he mumbles, cheek squished against him.

“I need proof to get time off.”

“Man, your job sucks.” 

“Thangks, Captain Obvious.” Nanami wishes again that he would stop talking, just so he didn’t have to hear himself reply. The congestion dragging his consonants down is unpleasant to his ears, only worse layered over the roughness of a sore throat.

While Gojo manages to hold his tongue, Nanami assesses the items below him. He hovers his hand above the test kit on the counter, with a long q-tip lazingly perched between two fingers. His eyes glaze over the instructions; this isn't the first time he’s ever taken such a test, but a refresher never hurts. 

… Whether looking at it actually helped refresh anything was contentious, however. The font and diagrams were muddy where they lay, only legible enough to jog his memory.

15 seconds in both sides, mix the end into the tube of fluid, place a few drops into the test strip, and then wait for the result that wouldn't surprise anyone with an ounce of common sense.

Easy enough.

…Sort of. Nanami’s eyes water the instant the cotton swab touches just inside one nostril. A sharp tingle radiates up into his sinuses and lingers. He dreads actually moving the thing, knowing it will only prod and tease at each swollen, sensitive nerve within. 

Simply holding it in place won't do him any good either, though. He does as instructed, swirling the cotton tip along the walls of his nasal passages in a circular motion. The urge to sneeze increases tenfold. Nanami scrunches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed in a tight, focused squint.

Gojo notices all of this, much to his dismay. “Don’t sneeze…” he sings into his ear. 

And Nanami nearly does. “HHdt-!” Tongue smacked to the roof of his mouth, he manages to withhold the urge from completely seizing him. But just barely. He blinks tears from his eyes. 

“Cand you please nod- guh…” Nanami is left with a lingering, even thicker congestion, if that's even possible. He should really blow his nose, except that he also really shouldn't, not until this test was over. 

The cotton swab dips into his other nostril- the one that's more sensitive of the two, because of course one of them has to be. It's the one Gojo has a better view of, too. Oh, joy.

Nanami’s breath catches almost instantly, only to release in an uncertain, tight exhale. “...hehh…” Gojo sees his abused nostril flare up and twitch, hiking upward as the entire bridge of his nose crinkled. Torturously, he swirls the cotton swab once, twice, three times. Hand trembling, breath shaking. The natural lines of his face turn more rigid to match his expression, barely holding it together. 

Don’t sneeze. Don't sneeze. Gojo’s earlier advice echoes in his head, much as he loathed it at the time. Just a few more seconds…

“That looks like it really tickles…”

It's a few more seconds too long, and Gojo’s urging is the final straw. “hhuH-!” Nanami gasps loudly, urgently, shuddering under the other sorcerer’s still incessantly pressed weight on him. That inward breath messily crashes into the main production- “hEHH’SHIEhh-! hEHHH’ZSHHieh-!” His shoulders jostle violently. His throat barks through the deepest parts of it, fully exposing the flu-centered trauma his vocal cords carry.

Spray sprinkles wet, grey dots in a random pattern on his shirt, baggy and soft to the touch. Gojo’s weight against him only lightens a little, although Nanami is too distracted to care or notice. “hhdh… hiH-!” Without opening his eyes, he draws up for a precursor to another sneeze. He clumsily grabs the collar of his shirt, ducking down within the fabric this time- “hiehHH’SCHFHH-!”

Oh, God.

“Oh. Bless you.”

Gojo says it like he's surprised to hear him sneeze. Nanami feels a vein threaten to bulge on his temple.

Pinching away any excess evidence with his shirt- he winces when the damp fabric touches back to his chest- Nanami re-emerges with a scowl no less irritated than before. In his other hand hovers the soiled cotton swab, having been yanked from his nose the second before disaster. 

He blinks away the stars that dance in his vision, wondering if it's possible to actually sneeze his brains out. The pain behind his eyes swells significantly, heightening his suspicions. Ugh.

He glances back down at the instructions. Right, next step. Into the tube the cotton swab goes, and Nanami swirls it, pushing against the sides of it. Just watching the motion stirs a tingle high in his sinuses, having not quite abandoned the sensation of the swirling motion.

Nanami glances at his watch after applying a few drops to the test strip. 6:51. He'd know by 7:06, then. 

Gojo watches him set his watch, cheek pressed into his shoulder. “Hm… I don’t see anything in those instructions about sneezing all over yourself?” he teases.

The vein from before does finally bulge on his temple. He’s almost- almost- exhausted enough to sigh another sigh and let it go. But there’s fifteen minutes he needs to kill before he can send his halfwitted boss a picture of this stupid test, and Gojo doesn’t sound like he’s going to become any less insufferable in that time. 

A taste of his own medicine might shut him up, or at the very least dent his pride. The unopened test kit resting on the counter is snatched into Nanami’s hand. He pauses for a dreadfully damp sniffle. “Gojo, I don't suppose you'd like to show me how to do this properly, then?”

Silence. Then, the other man tilts his head. “That’d be a waste of a good test, wouldn't it?”

“Haven't you considered that I might be contagious?” Might be, he says- more like definitely, absolutely. “Antivirals work better if you catch it early, you know.” Nanami maintains an even tone under the blanketing congestion.

“ …My Infinity protects me.”

Nanami pulls the new, fresh cotton swab from its packaging, careful not to touch the soft end. “You’re touching me right now, though.” And all this morning. And all last night. Satoru Gojo, the Strongest, Clingiest, Sorcerer in the world.

Said Sorcerer finds nothing to argue back with, instead speaking a short, “Fine.” Though his blindfold conceals his eyes, the pout on his lips is enough for Nanami to imagine the faux, pity-seeking look they’re wearing. Good thing he knows better than to fall for it.

Quicker than before, Nanami arranges the test tube and test strip on the counter top. Fresh cotton swab still in hand, Gojo actually steps back an inch when he faces him, showing reluctance. It's a rare emotion for him to express so physically.

He takes Gojo’s chin in one hand, holding him in place. The other man grimaces. “Hey, I can do it- myself, ya know…!”

”This is how Shoko would do it, and a doctor knows best. Chin up.” His hand grips a little firmer, and he tilts Gojo’s head up and towards himself. It’s an angle suited to expose his- and he hates to admit it- absolutely perfect nose. A straight, long bridge complimented by a set of narrow, symmetrical nostrils, all aesthetically framed by the dark fabric of his blindfold. 

Given a few minutes though, it won't look nearly as composed.

Nanami doesn’t bother to warn Gojo when he slips the cotton swab into his nose. The other man gasps reflexively, and the bridge shivers in protest. Nanami’s hold on his chin keeps him steady though. 

Any other day and he certainly wouldn't tolerate getting sneezed on- especially by someone who got on his nerves so regularly. But considering current circumstances, he can't find it in himself to care. He fully intends to change into a fresh pair of sweats after this test, not to mention that he's already dealt with enough of his own outbursts and fluids in the last 24 hours- what's a little more?

It would be worth the brief euphoria that came with getting payback, until his headache along with all the other bits of his misery tugged him out of that moment.

He changes the angle of the swab just slightly, softly bumping the shallow top wall of his nasal passages. Gojo swallows under Nanami’s palm. A circle is drawn along the rims of one nostril, and then another. His lips part to whine, but the sound melts into a telltale hitch.

“Nanhha- Nanami, whhait-hih-hihHH’SHIhh-!” Nanami doesn’t stop, nor does Gojo. “hyH’SHh-! ihhk‘SHieh-!” They’re fittish, rapid, and yet they drag out of him, like the last bit of juice squeezed from a lemon. He's trying to hold them back, but his willpower is faltering under Nanami's efforts and hurling out his throat instead.

A few more sneezes later, and Nanami gauges it's been long enough. He wordlessly removes the torture device from Gojo’s nose, and he sighs something between relief, exasperation, and another sneeze stopped in its tracks. He sniffles and tries to pull away, but Nanami tuts his disapproval.

“Still need to do the other side.” He doesn't allow Gojo so much as a spare breath to fight him on it. The nasal swab is already pressed to his septum, just inside the other nostril.

The tighter, desperate pinch of his eyebrows is visible even through his blindfold. Gojo’s lip quivers. He actually manages to hold it together this time- for the first five seconds.

Then…

“hih…hh, hihH-! hh…ghh-hiHH-! Hhp’TSHhh-! hihT’SHh-! Hh-hhH… HH’TShiew-! hY’ISHH-!”

His nostrils turn pink, shiny at the rims. Nanami ignores the mist settling on his wrist in progressively wetter qualities. It's generously soaking him when he decides again that he's done enough again, and he promptly wipes his hand on the leg of his sweatpants.

Gojo’s repeated sniffling, panting, and whining is mere background noise as he goes through the motions of this test.

“Nanamiiii… you're so meannn…”

Without taking his eyes off his watch to acknowledge Gojo’s Man-Child-like behavior, Nanami hands him a tissue. He always keeps a box close at a time like this. “Blow your nose, Gojo.”

There's still about 10 minutes left until he can actually consider this hassle taken care of. 

Well, one hassle taken care of, anyway. Gojo has regrettably pressed himself back against him, sinuses cleared into a now crumpled tissue. “Can we please just go lay back down now?”

That, Nanami could seriously consider. A dull throb trickles back up into his head, coupled with a growing feeling he'd swallowed glass in his throat. He may as well take Gojo up on this- standing here isn't doing him any good.

A fresh change of clothes and a new dose of ibuprofen later, and enough time has passed that Nanami’s watch goes off, once for his test, which he snapped a picture of, and then again a few minutes later.

Test results on Nanami’s read positive- no surprise. Test results on Gojo’s read negative- for now, at least.

[kawaii-kushami]

commission for @snubby-snuff of ts/ukishima and ko/ito from g/olden k/amuy !! content based on this fic i wrote and visuals based on this manga cover 💚

[kawaii-kushami]

nsfw g/olden k/amuy modern AU k/oito x t/sukishima snzfic

t/sukishima has a cold while hes away on a business trip and calls k/oito (who has the kink). they’re dating and refer to each other by their first names in this. warnings for written mess, m*sturbation, and slight discussion of kink-related shame. 2.9k words

i havent written fic in yeaaars and am just getting back into it so if it reads a little rusty that’s why :’) also my first attempt at writing stuffy talk so i hope it’s alright!

also if for any reason this shows up in the search results for these characters please look away you didnt see anything 💀

Keep reading

[grosskinkblog]

Chronology

so this thing has been sitting in my unfinished works folder for literally three years, and i finally decided to finish it. it’s probably crap but anyway, here it is

Tissue number 1: shyly requested by him after a pair of itchy sneezes that left him sniffling liquidly, then pulled hastily from her purse. She shoves it into his hand as his brows draw together; mouth agape, nose crinkling. He lets tissue number 1 hover in front of his face for a second, then presses it to his nose with both hands as he is hit by one more sneeze. Wiping his now running nose, the tissue does what it can, then makes its way into the pocket of his jeans as he asks her for another one, flustered and blushing.

Keep reading

[peachsnz]

Jake looks like C/lark K/ent he's so handsomee <33 May I request a snz art of s/uperman?

Yes you may! Thank you so much haha I didn’t think of it actually but i see what you say about Jake honestly hehehehe. Here’s a sketch I did like two weeks ago and it’s very bad and sort of wonky since I’ve been in the worst art block of my life. Ugh 😑 ANYWAY! Thank you for requesting. Love you

MINORS DNI! DO NOT REBLOG TO NONKINK BLOGS

[sniffly-soap]

Your d/c snzfics are so.. gldkfkfkfk I love them. Idk if you're taking requests, so no pressure, but do you have any contagion thoughts for the batfam? Any member is fine.

Hi!! Thank you so much for the kind words :) Yes, I definitely have some Batfam contagion thoughts! I'll run through some of the family members I think about often.

Barbara: Babs is usually pretty good about keeping her illnesses to herself. She stays home, covers her coughs and sneezes, and tries to dutifully wash her hands. The exception to this is Dick, who she's been sharing colds and flus with since they were young. Every time he's sick, so is she, and vice versa. She doesn't bother covering her mouth and nose around him since he turns into a leech anytime she's sick, even when they're not dating anymore.

Dick: Dick is the ultimate sharer of sicknesses. He craves contact and often finds himself seeking out the warmth of a hug when he's not feeling well. He feels incredibly guilty anytime he gets someone sick, but he can't help but accept comfort and cuddles if they're offered. The Titans, Batfam, and Justice League have all shared colds with him. He's also fairly susceptible to catching illnesses from the people he's saved and other teammates due to how tactile he is. He also isn't much of a germophobe at all, so he often picks up bugs through sharing drinks and food and comforting others.

Jason: Jason is a fairly responsible sick person. He's usually pretty good at staying home and taking care of himself, though he rarely covers his sneezes, either through laziness, habit, or as a result of being too slow to cover. This leads to his belongings and home base becoming incredibly laden with germs for the duration of his illness, the surfaces often hosting sprays of contagion for days or even weeks after he's feeling better. His sicknesses spread through borrowed books, someone faceplanting into a couch cushion he sneezed into the week before, or a friend wiping their face with their hands in exasperation after opening the fridge door. He hates being around sick people, so he isn't often sick, but he catches bugs from his family and friends and once in a while from the people he helps. He's been known to send menacing texts to the subject of his misery for weeks if he knows who he caught his cold from.

Tim: Tim is a bit of a germophobe when it comes to others being sick, but doesn't have the best contagion-limiting practices himself. He's often caught patrolling and being out and about while sick, powering through his illnesses. All the while, he tends to wipe his dripping nose on his wrists, hands, and fingers, thus transferring his germs onto everything he touches. He often blames his siblings or teammates for spreading their illnesses, since he's almost never one of the first few to catch whatever's going around, but he's definitely a bit of a super spreader himself. He finds incessant sniffling wildly irritating, but does it himself often because he never seems to have a tissue on him because he's definitely not sick, alright?!

[boxofmushy]

Checking Up

Finally, we're back with my sci-fi OC Morris, the messy loner scientist in charge of communicating with a very mysterious entity. I highly suggest reading the first fic here just for context. This fic is pure h0rn, semi-inspired by all those wonderful doctor/patient scenarios I've seen on snzblr, especially the scenario by the great @poor-darling HERE - look I just love doctor/patient stuff okay?

CW- Doctor/Patient scenario, mess, descriptions of the insides of a nose so if that's gross please don't read, cartoony sci-fi plot involving nanobots that don't really make sense, suggestion of sci-fi violence and villainy but nothing graphic, sneezing fits and holdbacks (because thats my signature move by this point I guess)

Un-beta'd as always. I'll probably go back and forth to make further edits.

It was an alarming situation. Dr. Lake and the rest of her unit were called in without a moment’s notice and scattered across the galaxy. The briefing was straightforward and dire.

Someone with ill-intent had unleashed a deadly and perfectly undetectable nano-weapon at the last Interplanetary Sciences + Technology Conference. The reason behind the attack remained unknown, but it was important to contain the body invading nanites first. 

As far as Dr. Lake was concerned the whole thing was most likely a disgruntled employee. It always was. Some roboticist stuck in a lab with too much time on their hands always led to the creation of some nefarious plasma super weapon or deadly, axe wielding robot. This nano-weapon itself sounded like the standard bugs used to spy on powerful people. Simple really. Build tiny, near-microscopic cameras, sneak them into a public environment filled with powerful people and let ‘em loose. Soon unsuspecting heads of top secret government divisions were walking spy cameras and they wouldn’t even know. All they had to do was breathe in the nanites and that was that. 

All a big nuisance really. Dr. Lake had to put a vacation on hold for this. She wanted to get away with the wife and kids but now she was spending the rest of her weekend examining the noses and lungs of the system’s top scientists. The greatest minds in the galaxy and the grumpiest of patients. 

Of course, her luck being what it was (terrible) she was sent to The Roc. The most remote of all deep space labs. It took days worth of travel. 

She had heard of The Roc. Everyone had. It was famous for its communications with an entity of mysterious origins. A being that could not be photographed, filmed or even viewed by the naked eye without years of training. Only a truly exceptional behaviorist could apply as the singular scientist and handler on The Roc. It was a duty that lasted for the rest of their lives. 

———

It was a lonely sort of space station. On the smaller side, with room only for basic farming, a lab, bath and private quarters. No cafeteria except for a small kitchen and no true med-bay. Just a bench, a computer and a medicine cabinet. She had to improvise a little, but it was better than nothing. 

“Experiencing excessive static of any kind?” 

“What the hell does that mean’d?” 

Her patient sniffled against the back of his wrist, eyeing her suspiciously. Morris was his name, and he was definitely the kind of person she pictured who’d be picked for such an isolated line of work. He was both brilliant and brilliantly gloomy. He’d given her an empty greeting when she finally arrived at the station, offering a warm glass of water and nothing more than a simple hello. Morris seemed paranoid by default, asking her a billion questions about why Control sent her and why exactly she had to give him a medical examination. Even after a thorough cross-examination of her ID and credentials he still carried himself stiffly, refusing to look her in the eye. 

He also had a head cold. Of course, as a doctor she had seen her fair share of them. In her time she’d wiped a million noses and taken a million temperatures. In some ways she considered herself a connoisseur of colds and could pick out who was currently suffering or who would be suffering from one out of a line up of people. 

As soon as she had entered the lab and spotted him crouched over a mess of electrical cables she knew he had one of those mean sort of head colds. His nose was obviously swollen, with two little tell-tale streaks of red marking his stubbly upper lip. Bluish bags hung under his eyes and there was a distinct dusting of flush over his cheeks that suggested a fever. Low-grade probably. Sinus infection most likely. 

The sneezing was also a tip off. 

“Heh-HDZCHIEW!”  

They were sharp, wolfish sneezes that snapped his head forward. They seemed to creep up on him out of nowhere, interrupting his business with the cords and cables. He was buried in his work, and it took a great deal of convincing to pull him away from the lab and onto the small medical bench.

He was very guarded about being sick. He was guarded about everything. His arms folded stubbornly while he leaned against the dark paneled wall, sitting as far away from her on the medical bench as he could. 

“The nanites tend to give off excessive amounts of electricity. Not dangerous amounts but you’ll be a lot more prone to zapping yourself on doorknobs. Any problem with that? Hair not behaving?” 

Morris furrowed his brows, disgusted. 

“You traveled all this way to see if I’m shocking myself on doorknobs?” 

“Its a possible security risk Morris.” She began unpacking. It’d be the stethoscope first. On went the latex gloves, and up went the mask. She could see Morris flinch even further away out of the corner of her eye. 

The standoffish behaviorist wasn’t wrong. This was a waste of time. It had been proven over and over again that it was impossible for someone to be bugged with nanites if they had a cold or sinus infection of any kind. But the powers-that-be were thorough to a fault. Extra measures were to be taken. 

She moved towards Morris, he moved away. 

“Look, Morris. I don’t want to be here either. Between you and me, I’d rather be home. In bed, eating cereal at night.”  She settled the earpieces of the stethoscope in place and held up the bell and reached out. Morris was almost crushed into the corner of the wall like a terrified cat at the vet.

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can leave. Okay?” 

He turned the offer around in his head. The promise of solitude overruled his suspicion and he shimmied close to her. He winced at the cold bell of the stethoscope against his bare chest and turned his head away. 

“Just breathe for me. In and out.”  

He obeyed. She could hear the crackle of congestion. 

“Oof.. poor you. Sounds a little stuffy in there.” She moved the bell around a little. Morris shivered from the contact of cold metal against his skin. 

“Snff. Its fine.” Morris was starting to sniffle a little. He was doing his best to not draw attention to it but Dr. Lake noticed the little pulse of his nostrils to know tissues were needed. She plucked out a fresh packet form her bag, unfurling a few in preparation. Morris’s eyes darted to them before shifting away quickly. His cheeks flushed a little. Was he embarrassed? 

She turned him around gently, placing the bell on his back. She could see a wash of goosebumps spread across his back, his fingers digging into his arms to keep from reacting. He breathed stuffily as she coasted the bell across his flickering back. 

Oh, he was going to sneeze again. His ribcage suddenly expanded as those clogged lungs of his began to snatch air. Quickly she handed him the bundle of fresh tissues. 

“H’Dzzsshhh!! Heh! H’AHTCHIEW!!-”  Two painfully congested sneezes exploded out of him, snapping his head forward with each one.

“Bless. Nasty cold you got there- how long have you been symptomatic?” 

He didn’t answer right away. A third seemed to tease at him a bit, his lungs hitching away. She put a hand on his back, gentle and reassuring as his body tried to figure out what to do with itself. Eventually the third made its way out with a roughly stifled “HNGXT!!” 

“I would not recommend doing that, it could-“ 

“I’ve had this fucking thing since the convention. Picked it up there.” He growled watery against the bundle of tissues. Blowing roughly, he squinted back at her with blurry eyes. 

“Well, good news for you, that cold probably protected you from the nanites.” 

“Lucky me.” He squeezed away at his nose. Something seemed to move and he doubled over with another stubborn stifle. 

 “I’HGNT!!” 

“Morris-“ 

He held a finger up, huffing towards another… 

“IGHNXT!!-Shhiew..” 

Tired eyes blinked away behind the bundle of tissues. She couldn’t help but feel bad for him, despite how generally unpleasant he was. 

Dr. Lake removed a small vial from her medical bag. It looked completely empty to the naked eye.

“So are we done with the examid- snfff, snfff- exabidation?”  He sounded ridiculously stuffy, humorously so. 

“Not quite. Still gotta use the camera on you unfortunately.” Dr. Lake booted up the computer, waiting for the camera feed to boot up. “I swear I’ll do this as fast as I can.”

“How fast?” Morris finally lowered the tissues, his nose flushed and abused. 

“Depends.”  The camera finally connected and she turned back to Morris, unscrewing the vile. Carefully she placed the opening of the vile under his right nostril. “Breath in deep for me.” 

Morris sniveled roughly, scrunching his nose. A tiny, sharpish sensation of something going up his nose made his eyes water. It was an unpleasant feeling, one that Dr. Lake herself experienced once when she was in medical school. She swiped up the underside of his nose with some fresh tissues while he blinked away.  Dr. Lake removed the vile and pulled her computer closer. She placed one hand on the keyboard, the other cupping Morris’s jaw gently.  

She hovered a thumb over Morris’s raw philtrum, just under the septum.

 He jerked away at the touch at first.

“What the hell-“ 

“Easy Morris. I can’t have you sneezing the micro-probe out. Its expensive equipment” 

Morris wriggled his nose at the mere mention of it. 

“Don’t worry. I’m good at stopping them. I’m a doctor, gotta give me some credit right?” Dr. Lake smiled under the mask, trying to reassure her prickly patient. 

Reluctantly he leaned his head back into her touch, though he never took his eyes off her. 

The micro-probe’s footage played on the computer screen, displaying the insides of Morris’s nose. Dr. Lake had to drive it to the carefully through his sinuses, checking for nanites. She knew she wouldn’t find any, but protocol was protocol. 

Morris couldn’t help his natural curiosity. He watched the screen curiously, his face twisted in disgust. 

“Ugh, fucking gross in there..”  He sniffled. The view screen jiggled with the quick rush of air, but she kept it steady. 

“I’ve seen way, way worse. Trust me.” Dr. Lake smirked, trying to blank out all those years as a scrub in ER. She’d rather spend the rest of her life driving tiny robotic probes up people’s noses than go through that again. “Try not to sniffle, I don’t want to lose this thing in your lungs.” 

“But- my nose..its kind of-“ 

“Runny? Its fine. We’ll clean up later.” 

Poor thing. Morris really had a hell of a sinus infection. The inner walls of his nose were inflamed, runny and overly sensitive. She had to be careful not to touch the sides and accidentally trigger a sneeze. 

Not that he even needed that to set him off. 

His swollen nose ran freely, a flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks. Occasionally he’d curl his upper lip around his teeth, most likely trying to itch at the tickle in his sinuses. Oh and how they tickled, she could see it on the screen. The inner-walls of his nose twitched, first sporadically, then with a slow rhythm. The first warning signs of an impending sneeze. He squinted his watery eyes, trying to focus. 

“Hey- I think’g…” 

“Oh yeah, I can see it. Don’t worry I got you.” 

She pressed her thumb against his philtrum, the crook of her index finger closing his jaw shut just before it could begin quaking open. He was trying his best not to sniffle too hard or too much, but even with her assistance it was near impossible for him not to. She steady’d the micro-probe as best she could while the strangled little gusts of air pulling it further and further back up his nose. But Dr. Lake’s firm massaging of his red, drippy philtrum kept him from building up any further. The sneeze cut off before it could even get him gasping. 

“Too close..” Breathed Morris. He was almost inaudible with congestion. 

She swiped more tissues up the underside of his flared nose as quickly as possible. 

“It won’t be much longer now. I can say you definitely have a sinus infection. I’ll prescribe you something for if you want.” 

“Don’t- B-bother I…” 

Her thumb was firmly back in place. His sinuses flexed, alive with irritation once again. It tickled him so much it made tears spill out of his eyes. She didn’t have to imagine how much his sinuses burned, she could clearly see it. Morris’s eyes squeezed shut, his brows furrowed in desperate concentration. He was fully aware there was at least a million dollars worth of equipment he definitely did not want to trap in his lungs or accidentally sneeze onto the floor, losing it forever. 

Dr. Lake could tell he’d need a little more help. She began stroking her thumb in tight little circles over his upper lip, then making long, stroke strokes upward against his septum. His nostrils flared and an uncontrollable hitch escaped. 

“Careful!” Dr. Lake almost lost the damn micro-probe with the sudden gasp of air. The camera shook violently as the device was pulled further back. His breathing evened out then, the sneeze backing off once more, but Dr. Lake knew she was on borrowed time.

She’d have to cut some corners. Dr. Lake knew she’d get in more trouble over losing the device than fibbing on her report. There were no nanites to be found, there was no need to go further with the exam. She needed to get the probe back to safety. 

“Alright Morris, we’re done. Lemme just get the bag and you can sneeze this out.”  She grabbed a sterile plastic bag and cupped it over his mouth and nose, a look of relief passed over his muzzy face. 

“Go on, sneeze.” Dr. Lake adjusted the bag a little, glancing at the camera screen. 

Morris’s nose had decided to be stubborn, just like Morris himself. He scrunched up his nose, blinking away, trying to brew up that same tickly feeling again. No such luck. 

“Damn’d.. of course I can’t.” Morris rolled his eyes. “Could you do something? I gotta get back to the lab.” 

Dr. Lake could do something. With one hand on the bag she reached for the keyboard and took control of the micro-probe once more. She steered it towards the inflamed wall of his sinus, purposefully bumping against it. Not fast enough to damage the equipment, but just enough to ignite a prickle of irritation. 

And oh did it work. His sinuses pulsed open and close as he began to freely hitch for air. The bag over his mouth opened and collapse with each pull of air and his eyes slowly slivered shut. His flaring nose trapped inside the bag, the sneeze was slow to build, made shy by being waited on. 

“S-sorry its takin’g..for-heeh-ever…” His nasally voice was muffled by the bag, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“You’re doing fine, trust me, you will sneeze.” Reassured Dr. Lake. She was trying her best to keep the micro-probe from getting sucked into his lungs completely, a difficult task as he was hitching uncontrollably, chasing the sneeze.

It did eventually happen. 

His sinuses flexed wide open once, 

“Ah..” 

Twice.

“Ahh..”

 and a final third time with a sniffly gasp before the relieving blast of air sent the micr-probe spinning, camera glitching with the sudden movement. 

“H’IGHDZSHHH!!” 

“There we go, good job.” 

The bag puffed up like a balloon. Dr. Lake was glad she wore a mask because she couldn’t help but smile at the fairly ridiculous sight. No matter how many times she did this it always made her laugh a little. She quickly removed the bag and zipped it up while Morris grabbed at a fresh bundle of tissues, his nose finally having had enough with being prodded and probed at. 

“HEH’TDZSHHHH!!” 

“Bless you!” 

“H’IGHZHEEW…D’ZSHHHH!!!” 

“Goodness, I’m definitely writing you up a prescription.”  

He couldn’t argue with her, or do much of anything but sneeze and sneeze. The prescription would be take a while to arrive, and she hoped he wouldn’t have to suffer longer for it. In the meantime she left the flush-faced Morris standard painkillers for the headache and whatever packets of tissues she had left. 

Despite his demeanor, Morris saw Dr. Lake to the docking bay anyways, sniffling behind her as they went. It was a quiet walk aside from the cold. 

“So Morris, this entity-“ 

“Beddie..” 

“Beddie? Is that their name?” 

“Nd’o its B-Beh…H’DTSHHHH!! Heeh…HEh’DTSHHH!! Neverbind.”  He kept a now much-used bundle of tissues furled around his nose. The wall he kept around himself having crumbled one sniffle at a time. 

“Is this.. Bennie, are they here right now?” 

“N’do. I told them’b you were coming. They know you’re not ready to see them.” 

“Ah. A shame. I hear they are quite beautiful. A marvel even!” 

Something soft passed over Morris’s tired eyes. A twitch of a smile. 

“They’re extraordinary.” He whispered almost reverently.

“I gotta say I’m a little envious. Being in contact with a being such as that…way more exciting than shoving mini-robots up people’s noses!” 

The very mention of the micro-probe seemed to trigger an itch. He rolled his eyes, so very much over the whole having a cold thing. He lowered the bundle of tissues, exposing his swollen nose to the dry space station air. Dr. Lake was about to enter the sterilization chamber when he quickly caught her elbow. 

“H-hey Doc…could..Heh-Hiihg…do that thingd?” He gestured to his lip, nostrils already blown wide “ One for the road…Heeehh” 

Dr. Lake smiled fondly, snapping on a fresh glove and quickly thumbing his upper lip while he ah, ah, ah’d away. She waited, giving his red philtrum a little massage while he sniveled back the threatening sneeze. It was extinguished with a huff. 

“Thangks…” For the first time he smiled. It was a nosy, congested looking smile, but it was a smile Dr. Lake accepted and returned all the same. 

As the doors closed behind her, and the germ-killing mist passed over, she could hear him sneeze behind the sealed doors. 

What a wonder, she thought. We can cross the vastness of space and still catch a cold. No matter. At least she knew she’d always have a job. 

[sniffly-soap]

I’m like just getting into dc so your timing with that fic is SO PERFECT. If you were to ever write anything with Tim I would be eternally grateful. Thank you for the content so very dearly <3

hi anon! Welcome to the dc world, i hope you love it!! And thank you for the kind words, I've been having a blast writing recently.

Here's a Tim fic! Warnings: mess, flu

(Note: Tim is an adult here, as is everyone who shows up in the fic. He’s in his early twenties in my mind, probably around 22-24. Though he is still a team leader here, so do with that what you will.)

3.8k | Swab

The fingers of Tim’s left hand drum on the countertop as he quickly reads through the instruction leaflet he has splayed out on the counter, eyes skipping over words every sentence and forcing him to reread everything at least twice. He sighs, leaning forward in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sniffle before he opens his eyes again and stares at the paper with renewed determination. He basically has it down, just another quick look at the instructions….aaaand he doesn’t remember anything. Dammit.

He sighs again, rubbing at a sore eye. This fever is really kicking his ass. When he opens his eyes again, he notices that there’s a new wet spot on the pamphlet, and curls his lip in disgust when he realizes that he snotted all over it. He’s quick to bring his finger to his nose, dragging it underneath his sore nostrils, and tries to sniffle up anything left behind. The congestion settling deep in his sinuses doesn’t really allow for it, and he pulls his sleeve over his wrist, dabbing at the rough skin of his upper lip to rid it of the excess moisture.

“So it wasn’t a tension headache.”

Tim jumps a few inches into the air at the voice behind him, his breath catching on his surprise and the mucus in his lungs. He buries his lower face in his elbow, giving into the chesty coughs that overtake him as he eyes his visitor.

It’s Kon, of course, the only person who lives at their base of operations full time. The mission must be completed, for him to be back, and once he has his lungs under control Tim looks around to see if there are any other team members present, but doesn’t see any evidence of them.

“Everyone else went home. Wanted to take advantage of the down time. Everything went well, by the way. Now what’s up with you?” Tim can’t stop the fond smile that overtakes his face. It’s all so very Kon, to let Tim know the basics before asking about his well-being. He knows Tim well.

“Probably the flu,” Tim says. His voice is rough and croaky, and he tries to clear it with little success. “Felt a little bad yesterday. Felt worse today.” It started with a headache a few days before, one that gave him a migraine so bad that the team went on a mission without him. It was little more than a milk run, but it still smarted when they left him behind at his own insistence. He was much happier with his decision to stay at their base when his condition only worsened. He’s been on planes with this level of congestion before. Not a pleasant experience.

“And you’re out of bed, why?” Kon saunters over to him, taking a look at what he’s working on. “You should see a doctor.”

Tim snorts, which is immediately a mistake. He raises the cuff of his hoodie to his nose again. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid. I feel shitty enough without having to leave to go sit in a doctor’s office.”

Kon lifts an eyebrow. “And this is for…?” He gestures at the table.

“Batman.” Tim might not want to go to a doctor, but he knows that antivirals will make this stupid flu a hell of a lot easier to get through. He’s also 80% sure that he has an ear infection in at least one ear. Luckily, Bruce and Alfred keep the Batcave well stocked. Unfortunately, Alfred won’t dole out any meds stronger than tylenol without proof. They all have Bruce and the Great Antibiotic Debacle of 2003 to thank for that one. Tim explains this to Kon in as few words as possible.

“Hence the rapid test,” he thrusts his open palm towards the setup. Kon makes a considering face, nodding.

“And then back to bed?”

Tim fantasizes for a quick moment of his comforter and a cold compress. “Yeah, then back to bed.” He woke up literally less than thirty minutes ago and he’s already exhausted. Stupid flu. He turns his head to track where Kon is making his way to the fridge, but the motion shifts something in his nose and the low, ticklish buzzing in his nostrils that’s been present all morning grows exponentially. He raises the cuff of his sleeve again, immediately failing at a stifle with a, “Heh-GkShu!” The surprise of it all makes wet droplets spray not only on his sleeve, but also his hand and the instruction pamphlet still spread on the table. Gross. The sneeze leaves him with a watery nose and eyes, and he reluctantly wipes his nose on his sleeve before standing.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kon is already at his side.

“Tissue box,” Tim says with a resigned air.

“I’ve got you covered. Sit back down and do your rapid test thing.”

Oh. Right. Tim still hasn’t done that. He sighs, eyeing the wet spots on the instructions disdainfully as he sniffles again. “Hiih’Nnxshh!” He hears Kon return, placing a box of tissues on the counter by his elbow. It’s the same box from his room, and both shame and embarrassment rise in him at the thought that Kon saw his bedroom. Last night had been rough, his nose running and cough starting up, and he had gone through at least a box of tissues and a bag of cough drops trying to calm his symptoms enough to fall asleep. He's sure his room looks like a tissue bomb exploded in it. A used tissue bomb.

“Thaggs,” Tim says around a tissue, blowing his nose unproductively into one. His nostrils are swollen, he can feel how hard it is for anything in them to move, and he sighs noisily. If he gets a sinus infection on top of everything else, he’s rioting.

He balls the tissue up around his nose, about to pull it off with a gross squelch when another sneeze overtakes him, unexpected and painful. “Ihhtschhieew!” Spit sprays across the countertop, Tim unable to cover his mouth in time. “God, that’s gross. Sorry.”

Kon shrugs, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. “Not like I can catch it. I already texted the team that this is a biohazard zone.”

“Ha ha.” Tim intones, but is grateful all the same that he won’t be spreading this to the other human members of the team. He does hate Kon just a little for never having to know what a flu is like, though. But it’s not like expending energy being jealous of literal Superboy is going to help him now, so he just pulls the instructions closer to himself, ignoring the new wet spots. He should probably burn these instructions when he’s done. Maybe he should burn this whole place down. Kon can stay with him in Gotham.

“Hey,” Kon says, knocking his fist on the tabletop. Tim looks up at him, thoughts hazy. “You good?”

Tim bites out a quick laugh, just an exhale of air that doesn’t set his lungs off again. “Yeah. Tired.”

The frown that greets him is more concerned than upset. “You zoned out for like five minutes there. Have you taken anything? Fever reducers or regular flu medicine? I know we have some somewhere.”

“Not yet.” Tim’s ear is getting uncomfortable now, stinging with every nose blow and sniffle. “I need to fill out Alfred’s questionnaire, and to do that I can’t have fever reducers. Needs base temperature.”

Now the frown morphs to upset. “Your family is kind of mad, you know that, right?” Tim just shrugs, and Kon sighs, going back to the fridge. It looks like he’s making breakfast or something, which is good. It gives Tim time to finish this stupid rapid test.

This time, he takes out one of the foil packets alongside the instructions. He’ll make it easier on himself and his fever-driven brain by going one step at a time. It should be easy enough. Step one is getting the swab out, so he peels back the packaging and produces a swab. Just looking at it already makes his nose ticklish. This isn’t the first time he’s had to have a swab done, and it won’t be the last, but he never looks forward to it. The sensation is probably in his top five least favorite feelings. Somewhere behind getting shot, but in front of electrocution.

Insert the entire soft end of the swab into the nostril, no more than 1.5cm. It also details how he needs to twist it ten times in each nostril. Each one. Kill him now. He brings the swab to his nose, hesitating. Should he have blown his nose beforehand? Nah, they need mucus anyways, right? Maybe he should…no, he’s just stalling at this point. Fuck it.

He sticks the swab in his right nostril, estimating the deepness, and immediately clamps his mouth closed. The ticklishness increases tenfold, but he holds his breath and starts the process of twisting the swab against the inside of his nose. One. Two. He starts hitching but doesn’t pause. The feeling of the swab at it quickly soddens is uncomfortable against his inflamed membranes, the swab brushing up against every nose hair and sticky string of mucus. He feels a droplet of something fall from his nose the same time a tear streams down his cheek, his entire face leaky and damp. Ugh.

The burning sensation is getting bad around twist seven, is unbearable by nine, and he has just enough time to yank the swab from his nose after the tenth twirl before he loses his composure completely, holding the swab in the air away from his body as he sneezes helplessly at his lap. “EHH’KSHH! EHSCHH’uu! EHHTCH’UU!” The spray is everywhere, his free hand coming up uselessly to try and block the barrage, though it does nothing in the face of his illness-ridden sneezes. The tickle is worse and a few more eke their way out through his swollen nostrils, desperate and ragged, punctuated by sharp, thick sniffles that vibrate the membranes in his nostrils and make him sniff harder to stave off another barrage of sneezes.

“Shit, bless you.” Kon holds out a few tissues to him, and Tim takes them with a hint of desperation, his spit-wet fingers brushing against Kon’s, though the other man doesn’t even flinch. Must be a byproduct of never having to worry about getting someone else’s virus. Tim thrusts the swab at him in favor of emptying his nose.

Tim buries his face in the tissues, giving a blow that’s somehow productive and completely congested at the same time. He tries again and gets nothing but a sad honk that leads to more coughing, and once he’s done he pulls the tissue away slowly and balls it up with a stuffy sniff, packing it into his hoodie pocket. When he looks back at Kon, there’s sympathy and disgust in equal measures on his face. He holds the swab back out to Tim, and Tim wrinkles his face at it in displeasure. The tip of it glistens with his own mucus, cold by now, and dread pools in his stomach knowing that he still has a whole other nostril to go. The temptation to just do the test with the one is strong, but he can hear Batman’s disapproval in his head and it’s enough that he reaches out and liberates Kon from the contagion-covered q-tip.

“Thaggs,” he says, congestion fully taking over his consonants. Whatever. Time to get this over with.

He grimaces as he inserts the used swab into his left nostril much rougher than last time, hoping that the change in tactic will make it easier. One. Two. Three. Four. He makes it halfway through five when he starts hitching, but soldiers on. “Hehh’hiiihh-” Five. Si- “Hiiih-” -ix. S- “HaAAH’ASHIEEW!” The force of the sneeze hunches him over, swab still firmly in his nostril. Thick rivulets of mess drip down his nose and pendulum into the empty air. “IDGSHEUUH!” His fingers are coated in mucus now, the nastiest web of slime fanning out over the swab’s stick and multiple places on his hand and wrist. He needs to finish this, and now. He finishes the last three twists as quickly as possible, thick sneezes chasing the swab when he hastily pulls it out of his nose. “Huh’EHSHHCHH! Ih-CHISHHUH-xt! ‘TSHIEWW!”

There’s still an unfortunate strand of mess connecting the swab to his nose, and when he tries to break it, it just causes more tickling that leaves more mess dribbling down his face as he tries to sit upright again. He clamps his free hand over his nose, pinching it shut in an attempt to stop more sneezes. He’s very aware that he’s being watched, and although the audience is one of the people who knows him best, Tim is still mortified. The attempt fails horribly, and the squeaky, squelching sound of snot bursting from around his fingers and making a mess of his hand makes Tim feel even more sick and gross than before. He tries to sniffle and finds that he can’t, the wall of congestion in his abused nose too thick. He runs his tongue across his teeth, mouth dry from all of the breathing he’s been doing from it.

Unlike last time, Kon seems frozen in fascinated horror, so Tim takes it upon himself to pluck a tissue from the box with his free hand and mop at his face, wincing at how sore his nose is. When he got up this morning he had noticed that his nose was red all the way down to his upper lip, and the feeling persists now as a slow, steady burn. The tickle threatens to grow again, and he stubbornly sniffles. Again, nothing comes of it. Fuck being sick, for real.

“Are you okay?” Kon asks, and Tim decides to ignore him and his perfect immune system in favor of turning back to the instructions on the rapid test. He needs to twist the swab in the tube now, so he uncaps one from the metal foil package and twists it back and forth, fighting valiantly against his nostrils. They’re tickling like they know that this was what just happened to them and they’re remembering the sensation. His nose needs to shut the hell up.

He caps the tube with the dropper and drips three drops onto the rapid test sample well. The instructions say he won’t have results for at least 15 minutes, so he thunks his head on the table, spent. “Phodne, sedd a tibber for fifdeend middutes.”

“Timer set for fifteen minutes.” The phone parrots back at him.

He can feel Kon’s hand against his forehead. “Seriously, you good?”

“Mm,” Tim answers. Fuck, he still has to finish Alfred’s questionnare. He repeats this thought to Kon. “Can you get the thermometer? Bathroom. Shelf 2. Plastic box.” His throat is getting sore again, and he makes a pathetic sound against the countertop, wishing symptoms would start going away instead of popping up.

Kon returns with it after a few minutes, and Tim drags himself upwards. He tries to blow his nose before putting the thermometer in his mouth, but after another gross gurgle followed by a sad honk that doesn’t do anything to clear him out, he settles for placing the thermometer under his tongue on one side and breathing through a small slit in his lips on the other. If the reading seems super off then he’ll resort to more extreme measures (it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done rectal temp on himself, but he spends a lot of effort really, really trying not to think about the first time).

He sits there with snot slowly creeping from his nostrils, afraid to do anything about it lest he sneeze and need to redo the whole thing, and when the thermometer beeps without incident and he notes 102.1 degrees fahrenheit, he sighs with relief. That feels about right. No rear end stuff for him today, thank-you-very-much. He wipes his nose with his right hand while his left one reaches for his phone, where he pulls up the questionnaire and starts to fill it in.

Family member, Tim. Ailment, illness. He skips the subsection on what illness, noting that he still has another five minutes before the rapid test results. Temperature, 102.1. There’s a list of dozens of other complaints in a drop-down menu that he can select, so he selects ear infection, double, and deliberates for a moment before adding sinus infection for good measure. He enters his current location (both for the medicine shipment and to keep the family updated on his current whereabouts), symptom onset date, and current treatments (cough medicine, fever reducers, and an anticongestant once he finishes with this rapid test). There’s a section for Other at the bottom, and he looks up at Kon while his friend continues with his breakfast making. Tim can’t smell it, but he can hear something cooking in a pan.

“Hey, once I gedd approved, will you fly to the maddor to pick up mby mbedicide?”

Kon shrugs. “Sure. Will Alfred or Bruce interrogate me?”

“Mbaybe. But you’re faster thadd themb.”

“Batman.” Kon parries.

“But you…ha-..you, o-eh’nGKSHU!- owe me for Arizodda.” Tim takes the quick respite from the congestion that sneezing provides to blow his nose. It gurgles in a way that makes both him and Kon wince, his breath crackling so hard on an inhale he coughs wetly to be able to breathe out. He wipes at both his nose and mouth, mucus making the tissue soggy. He leans over and deposits it into the kitchen trash.

Kon pauses. “Alright. Fine.”

Tim smiles at his win, typing in that Kon would be retrieving the medicine. Then he watches the timer count down, feeling more and more miserable with every second. When it finally hits five seconds, he cancels it and pulls the rapid test towards him. The first line, the control one, is strong, which means the test worked. The rapid test has a few other slots without lines on it, and then two more: one on A and one on B.

Tim lets his head thunk back on the counter, really feeling sorry for himself now. “This sucks!” He yells hoarsely into his arms, the sound crackling and broken. Kon seems unaffected, and maybe even a little amused again.

“Not what you were expecting?”

Tim sniffles, turning his head to look at Kon. “What I was expecting timbes two. I have flu A and B.” Kon winces.

“That sucks.”

Tim blows out a breath. “At least I cadd get the antivirals. Add I don’t have to stick that stupid swab up mby ndose again.”

Kon puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, that was painful for all involved.”

“You wered’t eved idvolved!” Tim exclaims. He points an accusing finger at him. “Voyeur.”

Kon shrugs. “I’m picking up your medicine. And I’m making you lunch. You have to be nice to me.”

“And I’b dying of the plague,” Tim grumbles, but he is a bit touched about the whole lunch thing. He hasn’t been eating well since he started feeling shitty. He turns back to his phone and selects Flu A, Flu B from the illness dropdown and submits the form. Immediately, his phone chirps with a confirmation text. He nearly regrets teaching Alfred how to use the automated systems when it reads, You will receive a follow-up message within the hour. Feel better soon! And for mercy’s sake, call Superman this time if you’re dying, B. 🙂.

It doesn’t even take five minutes for Alfred’s follow-up text. Tim is in the middle of another horrifying nose blow when he gets the message.

Received: Are you well, Master Tim?

Sent: been better, alf. kon is w me tho.

Received: I shall expect him within the hour.

Sent: thx a

Received: Be well, my boy.

“Meds now?” Tim whines, and Kon sends him an amused smile, setting down a glass of water, pills, and a bowl of oatmeal in front of him.

“I’ll go get them. Bed or couch after you eat?”

Tim whines again, a wordless thing as he looks at the bowl of oatmeal. “Not hungry. Couch.”

“Eat a few bites!” Kon calls, already jogging to his bedroom and returning with his comforter and pillows. He throws them onto the couch, making it look like a particularly appealing nest. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be here.” Choking on my own mucus like a real human boy Yippee. Tim surveys the gifts in front of him, though, and is grateful. He’s lucky to have friends and family looking out for him.

[messysneeze]

remixed @sneezeshame's cold simulator on ao3 into a generator with some tweaks to be more my type of thing.

sample output:

A moderate cold that lasts for 4 days. Rapid overnight onset, with the first symptom of exhaustion. Congestion: 44%. The worst symptoms (other than sneezing), in descending order, are: explosive headache; obvious aches; drippy headache; and sluggish chills. Nose: bright red. At its highest, their temperature is 101. Their voice is hoarse, and they are mouthbreathing a little, trying to hide it. Sleep: sleeping with constantly dripping nose, sleep quality medium. Line: "I don't feel too good". Passed to the next person by used tissues.

[ezynse]

sometimes…. sometimes ur stuck investigating with ur stupid boss who is an inch away from death… sick n1ck ft. 4p0llo and a surprise guest at the end… you will never believe who… (it’s m1l3s).

dont reblog to non snz blogs plsssss

Keep reading

[sniffly-soap]

Have a little DC N/ightwing snz fic <3

N/ightwing gets captured while in the midst of a messy headcold. Outsider POV, mentioned contagion, mess.

Minors, please DNI.

"Captured" | 1.4k

“You all have terrible timing.”

The voice is rough and congested, and hearing it, Jerry can’t help but agree. He finishes tying their captive to the chair in the warehouse office, checking the knots three times each before backing away.

“Shut up,” Major sneers at Nightwing, who they managed to grab between a fistfight with a few drunks and a thievery call. Jerry thinks that the only reason they managed to get the jump on him is because he looks so miserable, obviously suffering from some sort of cold or flu. ‘Tis the season, and Nightwing’s immune system is apparently just as vulnerable as anyone else’s. The poor guy sounds so stuffed up it’s no wonder that moisture has started to leak steadily and slowly from his nose, impervious to his sniffles.

“I could be in bed right ndow,” Nightwing whines. “We all could. Just let mbe go and we’ll forget it ever happened. Until, of course, I catch you later.”

“Shut him up,” Major says, shooting a nasty look at Nightwing, but Jerry just trades a glance with Benson, the third member of the extraction team.

“Uh, you want me to just knock him around a little?” Benson says uncertainly.

“Just tape his mouth closed!” More silence follows that suggestion.

“We ain’t trying to kill him, right?” Jerry shoots a concerned look towards Nightwing. “Uh, I think he’d suffocate without being able to breathe through his mouth, man.”

As if on cue, Nightwing tries to sniffle up the slickness that’s coating his upper lip, but sitting still doesn’t seem to have done anything for his congestion. “Hoddestly, suffocation mbight be preferable at this poidt,” the vigilante notes lightly, the hoarseness in his voice catching on phlegm in his throat and sending him into a coughing fit.

The guy really doesn’t look good. He’s got the hazy look of someone who’s been fighting off a cold for a while, red-rimmed nose and cracking upper lip. He looks visibly stuffed up, so even if you hadn’t heard him talk you’d still be able to see how sick he is, with his nose swollen, tinged pink, and twitching incessantly. Add the slick wetness glimmering at his nostrils and sitting below them like a milk mustache, and all you had was a guy that should probably be in bed. Jerry can’t help the sympathy that wells up in him, as well as the bug-crawly feeling of being in such close quarters with someone who’s so obviously contagious. He might feel bad for the guy, but he really doesn’t want to catch whatever he’s spraying around.

As if in response, Nightwing lifts his head, nose to the air, as he hitches miserably. He’s giving them a front row show to his leaking nose, and Jerry holds his breath as if that will stop the cold from spreading itself through the room and settling into his own lungs.

“Hh-EHSCHH'uuu! Ah!-eh'heh-heh'EHSHHhh'uu.” The first two are fairly tame, though in the harsh lighting of the warehouse you can see a misty cloud of tiny droplets surrounding the sick vigilante. “Hhi’ISHew! NGHchshtt’UH! Hh! Huhh’MNPtshh!”

It’s the last three that do it, Nightwing trying to bend himself in half to direct the sneezes into his lap but failing due to the way they tied him up, and the mess that skyrockets from his nose hits his knees and the floor, though most of it sticks firmly to itself and runs down the man’s face and chin. He tries in vain to sniff it up, groans, and then mumbles, “This is officially the most embarrassing abduction of all time.” Jerry privately agrees with him again. He’s getting secondhand embarrassment just watching the guy. And you have to, you really do. It’s like a train wreck, watching a grown man be so obviously sick everywhere. You shouldn’t be watching, but you can’t help it. Nightwing coughs again, spittle and snot painting the air in front of him.

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a tissue right ndow,” he says hopefully, eyes bouncing between Jerry and Benson, and Jerry honestly feels bad when he shakes his head, refusing the plea. If they gave Nightwing tissues to clean himself up, it would either mean untying one of his hands (bad idea) or wiping his nose for him (gross idea). Better to let the guy suffer than worry about the logistics of wiping another man’s nose.

“This shouldn’t take much longer. Just a few hours,” Jerry says, wistfulness in his voice. He wishes he could go back in time and be the man he was twenty minutes ago, before he became some sort of gross voyeur to another person’s illness. It makes him feel dirty in a way that committing crime doesn’t.

“Hours,” Nightwing echoes, sounding defeated, and then sneezes all over himself again. “Hiih’Nkxshh-guh!” It ends in an exhausted sigh and a squeaky noise that Jerry is surprised to realize must be the congestion shifting in Nightwing’s head as he sniffles.

“Mills,” he hears, and he tears his eyes away from their miserable captive to join Benson and Major at the computer on the office desk, where Major is updating their boss on the capture. “Boss gave a timeline. Read up.” Jerry reaches the part where the dossier is detailing the transport vehicle when he hears a sharp gasp, and he whips his head up to see Benson on the ground, a newly-freed Nightwing standing over him. Jerry reaches for his gun and sees Major doing the same, but it seems that they didn’t frisk Nightwing as well as they should have, because the guy manages to disarm them both with little boomerangs that have them clutching at their empty hands, bones smarting from the impact.

Nightwing pauses for a single second to drag his nose across his arm, not really accomplishing much except spreading the mess on his face, before he grimaces and rushes them, knocking Major out and slamming Jerry into the ground, tying him up with such efficiency that he honestly isn’t sure what just happened.

Liquidy sniffles punctuate the air as Nightwing ties him up, the movement apparently knocking something loose, and Jerry can’t help but feel a little relieved for the guy. The congestion had looked uncomfortable. Nightwing then ties the three of them together, Jerry the only one still mostly coherent, even after the knock to his head, and Nightwing tightens their restraints before standing back, his eyes fluttering and his mouth parted in pre-sneeze torture. A single drop of moisture beads up on the tip of his nose and drops to the ground.

“Hah-dkshCHUH! hehh'TSHhhhuuu. Heh, ha, ehh'RRHUShhh'UH!” He barely manages to raise his hand in time, though it seems he’s sprayed more through his fingers than into them. Drippy, yellow-tinged snot webs itself between his fingers as he tries to snort up what he can, though it seems there’s not much he can do to salvage his dignity after the small fit. Both Jerry and Nightwing curl their lips in disgust at the display, Nightwing sniffling thickly and wiping his nose with his sleeve again. Shiny, wet trails adorn his black costume sleeves and thighs from where he’s wiped his nose and fingers.

“Get some sleep, kid. That’s a hell of a cold,” Jerry says, and Nightwing grimaces again, turning away and grabbing his things from the desk. Once he has his comm in his ear, he starts talking, still strapping his weapons and gadgets back onto himself. It’s an efficient process, though greatly hindered by his cold.

“Nightwing to…yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Snf. Making my escape now. I- okay. Right. Right. Do you- Ih'CHISSSH-xt! ‘TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh! Snxxt! Sorry. Yeah, yeah, don’t patrol sick. Look, it was fine. Just a cold.” He laughs a little, wiping his nose with his sleeve again. “Yeah, making sure Hood and Double R didn’t have to save me and see my snot rockets was definitely a motivating factor. Never would've lived it down. Uh-huh. Right. Thanks, O. I will.” He taps the com in his ear, then brings the gloved fingertips of one hand to his damp nose and blows, just a little, the sound gurgling and sickly. The man sighs and wipes them on his thighs again, leaving the room without a glance back. As he escapes the building, Jerry can hear his coughs and sneezes echoing back to him, and one more little nose blow before the sick vigilante is gone, likely to continue fighting the worst of his illness from an actual bed.

Jerry sighs, the sound exhaling sharply from his nose. He hopes that their boss picks them up before the police do, if only because he doesn’t want to be the one responsible for spreading Nightwing’s cold to general lockup when he inevitably comes down with it in the next few days. He’d never be able to live it down.

[sickhaze]

Blessed || NSFW || 18+ ||

A/N: forced myself kicking and screaming out of my writing rut/hiatus so i present to you: 4.5k words of pure snz filth from the depths of my feral rat brain. warnings for: mess, contagion fantasy, explicit s3x, and illusions to a dom/sub type dynamic (but quite soft d/s tbh). MINORS DEF DNI!!!!

*********************************************

From the moment Leo had walked through the door that evening - a wordless, but tellingly loaded sneeze announcing his presence - Paige knew she was in for an interesting evening.

She’d fussed a little at first, and how could she not? What with how congested he even just looked, never mind sounded, his elegantly long, but large, beakishly aquiline nose stained red against pale skin squashed up into a ball of tissue. Sometimes he gave into the care, feeling a little sorry for himself in his weakened state, but tonight she was quick to pick up that he had quite different ideas in mind.

He’d approached her from behind as she stood at the stovetop, snaking his long, well-muscled arms around her body and bending down to press his lips to her neck in what was by now a mutually understood, unmistakable ‘come hither’ gesture. Paige had momentarily considered that it could have been innocent affection - but only momentarily though, as his hands began to roam and caress, as if recommitting her body to memory after having been parted from her all day, and his lips lingered on her skin in a way which was undeniably lustful.

Not to mention those long, extended sniffles right next to her ear (that she could tell were exaggerated - that asshole) - prompting a shiver up her spine and a chuckle from him against her neck when he felt it snake through her.

“We don’t have to if you don’t feel like it…” she made herself say as she relaxed into the wide, sturdy expanse of his frame, even if the way it had breathed out gave away just how much she wanted it. Wanted him. “D-D…Do you feel well enough? You look like you’ve had a bit of a rough one”.

But at the end of the day he’s nothing if not indulgent of her, and seemingly happily so.

"I wadt to" he'd drawled through a smile, smooth and assured even through the congestion, as Paige turned around in his arms to look at him properly, her head tipping upwards in order to meet his eye. Leo’s hand found welcome purchase on her jaw, a hint of a notoriously crooked grin playing on his lips.

"How could I ndot with how crazy this drives you?" he continued, thumb swiping deliberately across her cheekbone as his voice dropped lower. “...and how beautiful you look all worked up like this?” Leo’s face inched tantalisingly closer to hers, his eyes dropping quickly to her lips before back up to meet her gaze, smiling knowingly. "You're flushed already, hodey".

Paige’s friends liked to joke about just how evident it was that Leo would hang the moon for her if she so much as hinted that she wanted it, despite his drier, more stoic nature around others, and she was usually inclined to humbly shrug off such sentiments. But days like this she just knew.

From where they'd been standing chest-to-chest, Leo pulled away with a teasing kiss to the corner of Paige's mouth.

"Go to the bedroom and get undressed" he had asserted, in a familiar tone - tender, but firm - which sent a jolt through Paige and her flush immediately deepened. "...but leave your underwear on for me, okay?".

She complied in a determined, single-minded daze and in a matter of long minutes that’s where and how he found her - lying on the bed presented before him, gorgeous and trembling whether from her chest being exposed or the anticipation of what she presumed he had in store.

Leo appeared to suck in a breath, pausing for a moment in deliberation. He did actually have a plan, but God he wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to taste first.

He knelt one knee on the bed and caught Paige’s gaze wandering to the bedside drawer, making him chuckle. “Ndo, ndot todnight-” he said, all those ‘n’s forcing him to heave in a slurpy snuffle. He sounded so unbelievably full to the brim cold; so compressed and hoarse and all she wanted was him closer closer closer. “I wadt your hands free” he explained, getting up in her space.

Needing absolutely no more encouragement than that, her body aching for him the way that it was, Paige’s greedy hand gripped the back of Leo’s neck and pulled him down for a filthy kiss which left him gasping for breath against her mouth. She was about to chase his lips when one huge palm cupped her cheek to stay her. Still hovering just an inch above her she watched from below as his face crumpled with need, scarlet nostrils twitching wildly.

“hhiH’NGXTS’suh” he jerked forward, the explosive stifle just barely contained as the tip of his nose just barely missed her own. He clearly wasn’t done though, expression falling in cold-filled irritation. “hH’EHGXST’huh!”

Pause. Another unsteady breath, and a tear leaked from his eye as Paige lay transfixed, pupils blown and cheeks red as each loaded stifle sent another shot of desire through her core one by one. “Oh, baby…” she distantly heard herself mutter as his nostrils, inflamed and sore-looking from a day’s worth of rubbing and wiping and blowing, flared dangerously towards another sneeze.

He dipped down towards her neck this time as it crescendoed, his bare chest rubbing pleasurably against her own, and crushed his nose down into the juncture between her neck and shoulder as the next thwarted expulsion hit. “hhHAH’HEHDTSSssc’shuh!”. Paige’s hips involuntarily bucked up a little at the sound- no, the feeling of it, desperate for any kind of friction she could get against his body.

His nose was running now after that last sneeze, she could feel the dampness against her skin as a day’s worth of congestion at the height of a wretched head cold just refused to be contained any longer despite his attempts to hold it all back.

Which were strange in and of themselves come to think of it, Paige considered. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to chase that train of thought, in spite of Leo having now gone to work lathering her neck in open-mouthed, lingering kisses and teasing nibbles with his teeth. She knew the clock was ticking when it came to the hope of harnessing any sort of functional brain power, her pussy throbbing the way it was… and if Leo found ‘the spot’, which she damn well knew he would because he always does, then it was Game Over.

Leo was stifling. He never stifled, not really even when they were with company. Trust Paige to know - evidently she had a pretty vested interest in being aware of this sort of thing. It was only on the very rare occasion that he’d feel compelled to, usually if they were out at some sort of event where silence was societally enforced. Like that guest lecture they’d gone to recently at the local university’s literature department, or the open mic comedy night his old college friends had dragged them out to one night. Other than those types of situations he’d dutifully muffle his everyday, predictable double into his elbow like the good citizen he was - the sneezes themselves characteristically full-bodied and clearing, always sounding like he’d actually really needed them.

Paige’s pondering came to a very brief halt however when Leo did indeed fall upon ‘the spot’, just below her ear where her jaw met her neck, his chuckle low and gravelly as she hissed in a breath and her fingers gripped tighter in his dark locks. “There it is…” he cooed, barely getting time to work on it before his breath caught again, a stuffy hitch of breath ghosting across the shell of her ear. He sat up, cupping one huge hand against his nose and mouth as his teary gaze drifted skyward.

“hheH…? huH’HUHEHDTZs’uh!”

Now that the waterworks had started there was clearly no derailing that train, and that stifle had been even drippier than the other. His nose ran freely now and he scrubbed at it with sides and back of his hands, seemingly ardent despite how touching the reddened skin with such vigor made him wince.

Paige was stunned into silence as she watched his ministrations. S-She was supposed to ask him something - right? She was definitely going to…

Leo gave a waterlogged sniffle and swatted her bare thigh playfully, knowing mischief in his eyes. “And what do you say?”. For some reason that shakes Paige out of her, what would you call it, sexual trance?

“Bless you…” she stuttered out obediently, before switching gears, willing her voice to steady itself. “Why are you stifling? You never stifle”.

His mischievous expression lingered, as the hand he’d just gone to town trying to clear himself up with cupped her breast, big and warm and paw-like against her, his thumb twiddling ever so gently with her nipple. Paige’s breath hitched, but she steeled herself to maintain eye contact, not let the subject go. She was sure he was trying to distract her, but really he just adored watching how her body responded to him.

Leo quirked an eyebrow in lieu of a reply, and if Paige huffed in annoyance. She hates when he does that, even in their everyday lives and he fucking knows it.

Okay - so maybe he was intentionally playing with her a little bit.

He settled himself down over her and forged onwards regardless of her query, pressing a fleeting kiss to her sternum before licking her other breast into his mouth. His nose, big in a sense that meant it did so blessedly often get in the way, bumped against her as he worked, and she felt the slick dampness from where he’d tried and failed to stem the flood from that last sneeze.

“You know that tickle won’t let up until you just let them out, right?” Paige managed out, and she was proud of herself for even being able to do so, though she’ll allow herself the slight whimper right at the end when both his fingers and mouth applied just the perfect amount of pressure at the same time on each breast.

“Is that ndot the idh…h’H idea?” Leo replied jovially, despite the oncoming sneeze. He raised his head just enough to release her from his mouth, then snapped down into her chest with a thoroughly waterlogged “hh’EHDSSGT’chuh!”

Feeling rebellious from his relentless toying, in a moment of mindless courage Paige snapped “Not if you can’t stop sneezing long enough to actually fuck me”.

They both went eerily still as the statement sat heavy in the air between them. Leo’s eyes, rheumy as they were on top of gorgeously deep chocolate brown, hardened and Paige’s stomach dropped in an exhilarating, erotic kind of fear that felt like lightning in her veins. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck itwasn’tmeanttobethatkindofscene-

“I-I’m sorry, babe- baby - Leo, I’m sorry, p-please?” she scrambled before he could say anything, but in the next instant he was up, his massive hand clutching her entire jaw with ease in a familiarly firm but considerately comfortable hold. Normally when she goaded him like that it was intentional flirting with the idea of the repercussions, inviting them even, but right now she feared being sidetracked from the current game they were playing.

Leo’s gaze searched hers for a moment, the momentary blaze of heat cooling in his eyes as considered his next step. When she grabbed his wrist though and squeezed twice though, his grip on her jaw automatically loosened and the sudden tension in his posture melted away in an instant. Paige breathed a sigh of relief. She never for one second ever felt unsafe with him. He understood her.

Not right now; go back to whatever you were doing before.

When he sat back up though any further consideration over what he was going to do next was stolen away, as all the congestion in his head shifted all at once, igniting that trigger-happy tickle again, fueled all the more now by the constant stream of tickly fluid he was having to sniff back every other breath. All Paige could do was stare, so incredibly turned on her body barely knew what to do with all the tension.

“hhUH’EHDSSGT’chuh!”

It was the most sloppily contained one yet, and a shiny sheen now illuminated the still-twitching appendage, giving the redness there a certain polished finish.

“To adswer your questiod” Leo rasped, scrubbing his nose against the back of his hand with an audible squelch. Honestly, at this point Paige had almost forgotten she’d asked one. God, that cold sounded inescapable. Like he was drowning in it. “I didn’t bring ady tissues in here with me. Dod’t wadda mbake a mbess. We cad’t have that, can we?”

Feeling like a fish on the end of a line, Paige nodded. “No, of course not. You-... You sound like you need to let them out though, baby, clear out your head” she said, pushing herself up so that she could stroke his face, touch featherlight as her thumb ran over the bump near the top of his nose. “Holding it all in like that is only going to make it worse”.

His gaze raked up and down the length of her body, taking her in as much as he could before the inevitable… oh yeah, there it was. Sinuses once again flaring to life, the need to sneeze washed over his expression. “Yhh- y’youhh.. You thidk?” he stuttered, landing a pointed, watery gaze between her legs.

What he was getting at hit Paige all at once and she felt herself clench just at the mental image. With shaking hands she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and slid them off, offering them over to Leo, her blush deepening at how utterly soaked through they already were. If she were in a more present state of mind she could have laughed at how genuinely thankful he looked as he took them from her.

“Thadk you, hodey” he exhaled as he brought them to his face, and in the exact same breath gulped in a jagged, desperate lungful of air before-

“hhUH’EIHDTSSSSCH’uh!” The first sneeze escaped him viciously in a guttural, heavy expulsion, smothered into the panties she’d - oh god - just been wearing. With the amount of fabric available though, compared to the size of the area they were tasked with covering, he quickly had to readjust them before the oncoming fit crashed over him.

The sneezes tumbled out one after another, each more miserable and thoroughly cold-laden as the last, and as hard as he tried the resulting deluge of mess just couldn’t be contained in the makeshift tissue alone. The spray escaped their confines, the mixture of fine mist and larger droplets catching in the soft glow of the bedside lamps, dampening his fingers in the process as his body convulsed with them.

Each release rocketed through Paige as well, right down to her core as she watched on helplessly, mouth slightly agape at the display. She was so wet she was dripping, nothing to contain it now that her underwear had been apprehended, and her pussy ached for attention. To be touched.

She needn't dare though. And anyway, she’d much rather feel him inside her than take matters into her own hands.

When the fit finally tapered off Leo paused for a moment to catch his breath, his eyes and nose, puffy and sore, now streaming with absolute abandon. Sucking in a breath he finally got to blow, the sound thick and marshy but evidently compressed, like blowing air the wrong way down a straw into a glass of water.

When he was done and finally looked back at her, a straight-backed, recognisable air of comfortable control about him despite the display, Paige realised just how hard she’d been staring, waiting on a string for his attention and for him to seemingly remember she was there. With sneeze-damp hands he held the panties back out to her, every inch of them irrevocably wet and snot-soaked.

“Ndow put theb back odn”.

“You were right, sweetheart…” Leo admitted coyly, rewarding her compliance with a teasingly light kiss to her cheek. “I ndeeded that,'' he continued, doing the same on the other cheek before pulling back to stare right down at her, eyes heavy-lidded. “So mbuch better…”

Her brain blue-screened for a moment at the request- well, no… in that tone it was a command. Given somewhat off-hand, almost non-chalant, as if it was some completely mundane, run-of-the-mill thing to say.

With what she could scrounge together in terms of presence of mind she wordlessly took them from him and complied, sucking in a shuddering breath as wet met wet.

He took her head into the cradle of both his hands and captured her lips in a hungry kiss, eliciting a sudden, wanton moan from her into his mouth. He smiled and tugged her bottom lip ever so slightly in his movement to pull away, glancing down with interest to where she was visibly clenching.

“What do you ndeed hodey, hmb? Tell mbe…”

He hadn’t touched her there yet, where she desperately needed it. Throbbing and aching, she wanted it so bad she could scream. The answer was so obvious she resented even having to say it, but his intentions were clear as day.

“Touch me” she half begged, half demanded.

He looked all too pleased to hear her say it. “So sweet” he murmured, cupping her cunt through the panties in one huge, sturdy hand, a blessed wave of pleasure crashing over her as he squeezed and rubbed, gifting her that little hint of friction.

It was maddeningly short lived however, as in what felt like a split second his hand disappeared, and he had pushed her down onto her back, grabbing under her knees to pull her closer to him. Disregarding her whine of protest, his lips were warm and pillowy soft as they immediately sought hers out once again.

Lost as she was in the kiss, her body jolted to attention when his fingers returned to her core, thumb circling delicately over her clit as his middle and ring fingers worked up and down her slit. The friction of her dripping wet underwear provided a dizzying undercurrent of extra pleasure, and the thought of Leo’s fingers rubbing the mess from his previous fit straight into her sex was almost enough to make Paige cum right then and there. Her hips bucked up greedily into his touch, chasing the feeling.

“Look how wet you are for mbe; how ready…” he said, voice pitched low and every consonant compressed.

Once more however his breath caught, trapped within the miserable confines of this head cold as he was.

“Oh, again baby?” Paige simpered.

Nodding, Leo leaned down and scrubbed his nose down into her sternum, hair falling into his face in a way that gave Paige the urge to lovingly sweep it away. “It’s relentless - has beed all day. Haven’t beed able to get a full breath id without either sdneezing or feeling like I’b about to sdneeze”. He knew exactly what she wanted to hear.

Whilst the rubbing seemed to stave off the immediacy of the itch the tears pooling in his eyes and the uneven cadence of his breath scissoring across her chest suggested it wasn’t for staying that way, and mentally Paige urged him to let go. Give into the inevitable. She wanted to see it all, unleashed, truly this time.

“But I still dod’t have ady tissues”.

His expression hardened then as his eyes flicked up to hers before raking down her body, purposeful and measured. His gaze was naturally intense - combined with his size and gait strangers found him intimidating, gave him a wide berth. The perception others had of him tended to amuse her, though she understood to some extent. But that look turned on her like this? That was a different story.

“Well it looks like I’b going to have to use you, doesnd’t it? Do you want that, sweetheart? You good with that? Being a good girl and c’hahhh- hheH… c-catchidg all these for me? ”

Paige was on fire. Third degree. Every synapse and nerve ending aflame but simultaneously alive and sitting hair-trigger. It hit her then that she’d never shared this part of herself with anyone she’d ever been with before him, for fear of shame or ridicule or mockery, or even out of her own internalised shame. But right now, this big, stupidly handsome, sweet man was willing to give her this. Her arousal fed off the unwavering trust she had in him in dizzying symbiosis.

Sensing Leo was quickly losing the battle against the flare of irritation, Paige quickly nodded, weaving her fingers through his hair to keep a light grip on his head, an anchor of contact between the two of them. “Of course. Whatever you need”.

“GhhH’ood…” he managed out, before collapsing into-

“hhH’EHGSSSCHsch’ue!” into the inside of her right thigh. “hH’AHEHDTSSS’shuh!” and into the left, close behind.

He wavered for a second then, kiss-swollen and sneeze-damp lips parting in a sodden expression of pre-sneeze torture. “hUH’IHDZSSSCH’hue!” He directed towards her belly, before “ihH’EHDZSSHYUE!” - over her bare, heaving chest.

Each release that burst across her skin brought its own misted cloud of germ-laden spray, the droplets showering down and coating her body like a glistening second skin. Each one drug a strained whimper from somewhere deep in Paige’s chest.

Lost in the cold-filled fit now he couldn’t see through the tears now streaming down his face, each cursory sniffle proving futile against what sounded like a solid wall of congestion settled in his head at this point, and his nose, raw and swollen, freely ran like a broken faucet.

“I-I…hheh- I’b glad you’re edjoyidg this” he said, seemingly unrepentant, knowing. “Sndrrrf - because you’ll kdow all about it sood edough”.

The idea only made her wetter, if that was even possible at this stage, and this time she couldn’t help but move a hand down to touch herself at the thought. He caught her quickly though, and grabbed her hand before it could find purchase. “Ah ah ahh…hH-” he tried to chide, but the sound died in his throat as the tail end of the previous fit caught up with him.

Knowing how desperate she was and unable to hold himself back from the urge to taste her at least once tonight, feel the extent of her delicious desire on his tongue, he pulled down her underwear, sliding them down her legs and tossed them aside. He then dipped down and lapped a long, luxurious strip up her pussy, the end of his nose bumping into her clit. Paige’s head flew back into the pillow, letting out a scream of pleasure. Egged on by the enthusiasm of her response, he then took the little bud into his mouth, sucking it dutifully, and teased it with the tip of his tongue.

Paige hissed as a bolt of arousal hit her so hard she felt it radiate up into her damn chest, and was ready to a) cry or b) drag his face back to finish the job when she felt the pressure of his mouth ease off again. That was, until-

“heh’DSSSZSCH’yue!”

Raggedly loud, and so stuffed up to high heavens it made her own sinuses ache in sympathy. Sprayed right onto her swollen, throbbing cunt.

Pupils blown, Paige looked up just in time to catch Leo in a moment of vulnerability, nose scarlet and damp as it dripped a long, sickly rope down onto the bed, and the next words she spoke tumbled out of her mouth, determined and demanding, before she even had a chance to second-guess them.

“Fuck me”.

And Christ, the day he ever denied her when she asked like that, Leo thought to himself, would be the day he dropped dead.

“Say that again…” he demanded lowly, almost cautionarily, sucking in a futile sniffle as he moved to retrieve the panties from the floor once more, mopping up the worst of the mess. “Ask me again hodey; I wadt to hear you”.

Licking her lips through heaving breaths, Paige looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I want you to fuck m-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish as Leo descended upon her, claiming her lips with his own as the warm, comfortable weight of his body engulfed her, his hand sliding down the length of her body before landing on her knee, and guided her legs further apart. She took his cock, now unclothed and rock hard against her thigh, into her hand and impatiently guided it towards her entrance. Unable to deny either of them any longer, Leo entered her in one sure movement catching her immediate gasp in his mouth.

No matter how wet and prepared she was it was always a tight fit, but today the stretch felt as she accommodated his size ached with a pleasurable heat.

The kisses turned dirtier as he found his rhythm and Paige groaned with each thrust.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he uttered, voice straining as his own pleasure built, heart thrumming and blood boiling. He got more talkative when he got closer to climax, and Paige loved to watch him unravel as much as he did her. “Yeah, I cad hear that you do. Beed so good for mbe…”.

She preened under the praise, grinding her hips upwards to meet his thrusts as the pressure heightened closer and closer…

“I’b glad you’re edjoyidg it, because after this you’ll kndow all about it id a-ah’ehhh…a c-uhH… coupleofdaystibe-”.

Having just barely rushed the last words out, Leo snapped down into her chest with a wrenching sneeze. “hH’EIHDZSSSCH’uh!"

Paige let out a cry as the dampness erupted across her chest, in slight sensory overload as he recovered his rhythm, only faster now, pounding as the walls of her cunt clenched around him. Her body trembled with need, every molecule begging for release.

“You like mby mbisery, hmb?” Kiss. “Look at how flushed you are, how desperate - of course you do” Another kiss; his thumb hovered maddenling over her clit, but not quite touching it properly. “Well see how you like it whed it’s all yours…”.

Somewhere, deep in the depths of his mind, he was cast back to earlier when she’d acted up. She’d been a brat, but he let it go. Leo, now on the edge of release himself, licked deep into her mouth with a palpable deliberateness.

“...I’ll mbake sure of that”.

Finally he pressed his thumb down onto the little bundle of nerves, timing it to coincide with a sharp thrust of his hips, and it sent Paige blessedly over the edge. The orgasm came ferociously, in wave after wave, as Leo sped up towards his own finish, the pleasure rippling out across her entire body as she came.

They lay in silence for a couple of minutes, breathless basking in the afterglow. He collapsed down onto her and she held him close, comforted by the full weight of his body crushing her slightly, sex-flushed skin to sweaty, sweat-flushed skin. She never felt safer than she did right here, like this. Her fingers found their way into his hair and she scritched at his scalp, lazily twirling the strands round her fingers as she came back down to Earth.

“Leo…”

“Hmb?” he mumbled, all the fire in him seemingly extinguished; he sounded half asleep already. Poor thing. They’d get cleaned up, probably have something to eat, and she’d foist some tender caretaking on him before he inevitably passed out for the night. But right now, that eventuality felt a million miles away. So right now, they were just… this. This moment.

Paige couldn’t help but giggle. “Bless you, by the way…”

She couldn’t see his face where it was buried in her chest, but she could practically feel the eyeroll.

“Hadn’t said it for a while there, figured you might appreciate it now”.

[selene-and-the-cold]

A couple sitting propped up in their large bed in their favorite pjs. They both came down with the same terrible cold, their noses bright red, streaming and full to the brim with sneezes. Used, balled-up tissues are scattered all around them like a halo, and they've sneezed so much today, that person A has given up on tissues altogether and is just giving themselves up to the sneezes, letting them fly uncovered for why bother anyway if both of them are sick already?

B is adamant that all sneezes should be covered, so when A's breath hitches helplessly, B reaches out a hand to catch A's desperate "Aaahh'TIISSHU!!!" in their hand, only to feel a sneeze blooming in their own nose. Without thinking, they hold the hand A has just sneezed into in front of their own nose and sneeze a spraying "Heh'PTTSSHIEW!!!" into it, so now their palm is shimmering wet with both their colds.

[sapysniffles]

someone with either a nasty headcold or sinus infection endlessly blowing their ever snot filled nose into a sodden handkerchief

they can go maybe 30 seconds at most before the pressure is too much and they have to pour another bout of audibly wet mucus into the poor sopping rag

the first few times you feel bad but after the fifteenth in a row it's purely disgusting.

maybe this is happening during an important meeting and you cant hear the speaker over their constant snotty gurgling

they dont even move the handkerchief

just repeatedly blowing their overflowing head in the same spot

[danafeelingsick]

the rare sneeze art

psst, art commissions are open

[poor-darling]

The Experiment, part II

Thank you to everyone to read part 1 of the experiment and wanted more! You are all perverts!! Here's part two: extreme mess, contagion, and NSFW ahead. Some sneeze spellings stolen from the great @sickromancer.

That night, Alex tried to recover from his humiliation in the hotel room they’d provided him. He didn’t feel sick yet—it would probably take a few days, the scientists, had told him, although Casey had been so sick that he himself wondered if it wouldn’t be sooner. 

God, Casey. His sneezes, his voice, so redolent with congestion and infection. The way he hadn’t been able to control his messy, explosive outbursts. Alex squirmed in his bed, feeling his cock twitch. It was difficult to sleep, thinking about Casey and his cold. 

There was a knock on the door and Alex, bleary-eyed, got up to answer it. He looked through the peep hole first and saw Casey himself standing on the other side: eyes tired and bloodshot, lips parted to breathe. Alex’s heart sped. He opened the door. 

“Um, hi?” Alex was remembering once again that he’d come in his pants in front of this man, this sick man who did not have a sneezing fetish. 

“Hey,” Casey said, and muffled a cough into his fist. He looked, if it were possible, sicker than before. His nose was swollen and shiny with wetness, the underside of his nostrils and his philtrum chapped and raw. His face was puffy with congestion and his breaths were audible. There was a hanky half-hanging out of his pants pocket. He smiled. “Do you mide if I cobe id? Snnnrrrfff.” 

“Oh—of course, of course.” Alex stepped back through the doorway.  They went into the room where, Alex realized with a blush, it was clear he’d been asleep. 

“I’b so sorry to bother you right dow,” Casey said, trailing off with a stuttering cough. “But do you thidk I could sit dowd?” 

“Of course!” Alex said. They sat down, one on each of the room’s two queen sized-beds. 

“I kdow you were ebbarrassed today,” Casey said with a slight smile, “but you—“ he broke off as his breath hitched. “But you—ehh—ohh—heh-schhhnttt.” He buried a wet, soaking sneeze into the hanky he’d hurried to pull from his pocket. “Excuse be. That’s beed happedidg a lot,” he added ruefully with a bigger smile. “I dever seeb to kdow whed they’re cobidg.” He gave a long, noisy nose blow into the hanky, which already looked drenched. He looked up, eyes hazy with cold. “What was I sayig?”  

Alex was already beginning to wish he’d pulled a pillow onto his lap. “That I—um—that I shouldn’t have been embarrassed?”

“Huh, yeah. Snnnnnsrrrrffff.” Casey’s sniffle was long and crackling and deep, reflecting sinuses clogged to the hilt with thick mess. “I said that colds dod’t get be goidg, and that’s true, but, ubb, I ab gay, add seeidg you so turned od defiditely bade be a little bit hot. Cough cough cough.” 

Alex was surely blushing horribly. “Oh,” he squeaked. “I guess I’m glad that I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I mean, I know you signed up for the experiment, but still, you don’t feel very good, that’s clear, and to see me, um, well, enjoying it—” His face was beet red. 

“Snrrgggh. Let’s be clear, Alex. You edjoyidg it was the—ehh—was the—ehh-SCHIEW! Snnff. The best part of it.” 

“Ha!” Alex blurted out. His pulse was thumping in his ears. “Well, I did. I guess that’s why they picked me for the experiment, huh.” 

“Cough-cough, cough-cough-cough.” Casey half-heartedly covered his mouth with his hanky as he coughed. They both knew it was pointless; he’d openly sneezed all over Alex six hours ago, which was the objective of this experiment anyway. Alex was supposed to get sick. “Alex let be bake this clear,” he said. Those coughs were starting to sound thicker, chestier, crunchy and wet with congestion. “This whole experiedce, while, umb, pretty udcobfortable, has beed weirdly, umb, snrrrff, hot? I dod’t kdow, mad.” He shrugged with a sheepish smile. God, his nose was red, and there was a gleaming puddle underneath it growing larger, like it was running onto his upper lip without him even realizing it. “Ad also, this is hot for you, and like, it bight be a dice distractiod for be… Would you wadt to—ad you cad say—eh—-ehhhhh—youcadsaydo——HETSCHOOGHHH.” He gave a tremendous, torrential sneeze into the hopelessly ruined hanky, a sneeze that left a waterfall of opaque, infected snot trailing from his nose and mouth. It was disgusting. He tried in vain to sniffle it back up, leaving strands of mucus trembling over his mouth and nose. 

Alex surged forward and kissed him. It tasted like salt, a distinctly messy kiss, but he didn’t care. As Casey relaxed into the kiss, he gave a little huff of breath that pushed more mucus out of his nose and onto Alex. Casey huffed and pulled away. “Oh god,” he moaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand, “that’s disgustidg. I’b so—I’b—ehh—HSSSSHOO! Cough-cough, I’b so sorry!” Despite his swagger of moments before, Casey seemed truly abashed. The tips of his ears were red and he couldn’t quite meet Alex’s eyes. His face was misted with spray, and his eyes had the glaze of a light fever. He was the most arousing thing Alex had ever seen. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Alex soothed. “Let me get you some tissues, you’re a wreck.” He went to the bedside table, his cock already throbbing, to grab the whole box of tissues. He wouldn’t put Casey through what had happened in the experiment today. “Blow,” he said, pushing a fistful of tissues intoCasey’s germy hand.  

“Cough-cough, thadk you,” Casey croaked, and covered his soaking, snot-smeared face with tissues. His blow was horrendous: thick and gurgly, choked with seemingly unending mucus. The disruption to his sinuses made him cough. When he pulled the tissues away from his face, they were visibly wet and unusable. Sheepishly, he threw them into the waste basket and reached for another handful. Oh. He wasn’t done. 

In the end, Casey blew his nose into four bouquets of tissues, each blow wetter and looser than the last. 

“You poor thing,” Alex said, mesmerized. “You’re so sick.” 

Casey gave a long, crackly sniffle. Snnnnsgggrffff. “I really ab,” he said, half pitiful, half smiling. 

“Are you sure you want to—”

Now he was really smiling, albeit through a cough. “Cobe od, Alex,” he rasped. “Dod’t you—ehh—dod’t you wadt—oh god—uhhh-uuuuhhhhh—ACHOO! Snnnnrrfff. Dod’t you wadt to bake be feel better?”  

Alex stared at him, hardly able to breathe. Then he thought, this situation is already strange enough. He might as well make the most of his wildest fantasy coming true. “God, yes,” he croaked. “Get on the bed, okay?” 

Casey clearly felt a bit better after blowing his nose, because he didn’t sneeze or cough, just said, “Okay. Cad I take off by padts?” 

“Please do.” Alex and Casey both partially disrobed, smiling awkwardly at each other. 

Casey sat on the bed and rubbed his nose, eliciting a wet squeak. With rheumy eyes he surveyed Alex’s flushed cheeks and the bulge in his underwear. “This really—huh, you really get off od this, dod’t you?” 

Alex blushed and squeezed his eyes shut. “At least you’re getting something out of it.” 

Casey laughed, breaking into a cough. “Yeah, six huddred dollars.” 

“Six hundred dollars and a blow job.” Alex climbed onto the bed and straddled Casey’s stretched-out legs. “Look, can you do something for me?” 

“Depeds od whether you deed be to breathe out of by dose, cough-cough,” Casey said. His nose was starting to drip again. 

Alex immediately had a vision of Casey trying to suck his cock without being able to breathe through his nose, choking on Alex’s cock and his snot, but he put this out of his mind. “It, um, doesn’t. I just—I’m going to make you feel good, but I don’t want you to use tissues or hide your sneezes, okay? Just let them come, and I’ll clean you up afterward.” 

Casey gave a glazed but smug smile, and reached down to palm Alex’s crotch. “This really does sobethidg to you, kid, snnnrrrffff,” he said, “okay, you got it.” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Just lay back and let me do the work.” Casey’s cock was also getting hard, possibly more from Alex’s embarrassment than anything else. It didn’t matter. Alex pulled down his boxers and gave his substantial cock a light stroke with his hand before he applied his mouth. 

A broken croak of a moan came from Casey’s mouth immediately, and then he started to cough, the sound resonating in his chest. His cold was definitely getting worse. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“Fuck, cough cough cough, no, cough cough cough, distract be, please.” He reached up distractedly to rub at his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a slick, shiny trail on both his hand and his cheek. 

Alex nodded and went down on Casey’s cock, sucking and licking. Casey kept moaning and coughing, sniffling and, inevitably, hitching. “Dod’t st—dod’t stop—-Htd’gsssshiigh!” He sneezed into his own palms. “I’b fide, please keep goidg, please keep g-heh-heh-heh-Hdfgsssshiigh!” He dropped the second sneeze, even wetter than the last, into his hands again, and cupped them as if to hold onto the thick mucus he’d deposited there. There was also the spray—Alex could feel it on his face and shoulders where he was knelt between Casey’s legs. Each sneeze made Casey’s hips hitch a little bit, pressing his cock roughly and unevenly into Alex’s throat. He loved it. God, Casey’s sneezes sounded horrible—the wet thick sound of a burgeoning sinus infection. Alex rewarded him with a light caress of his balls and a hard suck on the head of his cock, and reached down to adjust his own dick in his underwear. 

Casey moaned, as much as in despair as in pleasure. “You’re disgustidg,” he choked out, “if you get off od this. I’ve dever beed so—-beed so—-god, Alex, I’b godda sdeeze again, I’b gonna—uh—ehh—huh—god, do, it’s stuck, cough, cough, snort, snruggffffff.” 

Casey must be able to tell that Alex got off on the humiliation of being watched, because being called disgusting by the most symptomatic and contagious man he’d ever seen had him ready to come. “Can you stop sneezing long enough to come?” Alex taunted, pulling off his cock for a second. 

“I dod’t—fuckidg—probably dot—oh god, it itches, Alex, it hurts, cough cough, heh-Huh-ssshtttoo!” That one had produced a thick webbing of mucus that Casey stared at in his hands. “Ad I cad’t wipe by fuckidg dose—you’re evil, sdrrrrrffff, I’b gonna—oh god, right there, udder the head—Hssht! Hsssshtt! Heh-Shhhht! TSSST! Hattgssshiih!!” He sneezed over and over into his hands until he was splattering mucus in his lap, and meanwhile, at the very same time, his hips were bucking and twitching as Alex sucked him. 

“Blow your nose, if you want,” Alex said, pumping Casey’s now-wet cock with both hands. “You can do that.” 

“With no tish—tishCHOO! Cough cough cough cough cough, fuckkk. Uhh, uhhhh, Alex, that feels so good, snrgggfffff. I’b godda—mmmm, I’b godda—“ 

Alex could feel the pressure in Casey’s balls, the frantic twitching of his hips and his cock. He sucked harder as he felt Casey start to explode from both his groin and his nose. 

“IshTCHOO! HuhCHOO! HuhCHOO! Hattgshhhhoo!” As he sneezed, he came spectacularly down Alex’s throat, an endless double explosion that culminated in Casey flopping back on the bed in a helpless, coughing mess of snot, sweat, and come. His eyes were full of coldish tears and his face was wet with mess from his cheekbones to his neck. His nose was so red and swollen that it looked painful and hot to the touch. And his eyes were closed with bliss.