Well, this is the lewdest thing I’ve ever written. Uhh… yeah. Jesus Christ. Don’t read if you’re not prepared for some 18+ content. S e x and s n z happens here. It’s P/eaky B/linders but I don’t suppose you need to know anything about the show to read, since this is literally just p/orn *facepalms* enjoy!
~
May wakes to a kiss being pressed to her neck.
Eyes still closed, she smiles and stretches, mindful of the man spread out above her. He’d fallen asleep with his head on her chest, his arms wrapped around her—who knew Tommy Shelby could be a cuddler, when he felt like it?—and now he’s practically on top of her. His hands press into her waist, desirous but not urgent, lazy in the early dawn light, and his mouth is warm and hot at her throat as he trails kisses down her body.
She reaches out a hand and cards it through his hair, dark and short. “I didn’t think you were gonna stay the night this time,” she murmurs, barely awake.
“Not proper mornin’ yet,” Tommy says wickedly, his accent thicker when he’s only just woken up. His voice is still deep and hoarse with sleep, and she wants to eat him up. “Can’t even hear your servants about.”
“They know to keep quiet when I have a guest over,” she whispers, wrapping him into a kiss.
He pulls away momentarily with a grin and rubs a thumb across her nipple, slow and easy, unbothered. “You have many guests?” he asks, and his tone doesn’t belie any jealousy. He’s teasing her, the way he only can when he’s in their bed, sated and relaxed.
May rolls her eyes. “By ‘guest’ I mean ‘you,’” she clarifies, then moans a little when Tommy’s hand trails downward. “I’m not… much… for meaningless sex,” she gasps out, with difficulty, as his fingers get to work between her legs.
“Just with me?” he teases, pressing a clumsy kiss onto her cheekbone, just a little too close to her eye. He sniffs once, delicately, and swipes a knuckle under his nostrils.
Some part of her loves that even the great Tommy Shelby laughs and messes up and gets a runny nose during sex. It’s not always some grand, solemn affair. Another part of her, the wiser, smarter part, knows she should never put “loves” and “Tommy Shelby” in the same thought. That’ll only lead to heartbreak.
“Not quite meaningless with you,” she says through the kisses she’s leaving down his chest. With the slightest pressure, she encourages him to flip them, landing him on the bottom. He gazes up at her through those too-long eyelashes, his face half-pressed into the pillows, and she thinks to hell with it, maybe she’s in love after all.
Straddling him now, she leans down and crawls her way down his body, leaving kisses down his throat, chest, stomach, all the way down to his cock. With one hand fisting him and the other splayed possessively over his navel, she has him sufficiently pinned to the bed to enjoy his morning blow. She swallows him down, fast and easy, knowing how he likes it—this is far from the first time she’s sucked him off, after all. His head thrusts back into the pillow, eyes tightly closed, as one hand clutches in her hair and the other holds onto the sheets.
“hihh… ehh…”
May opens her eyes with slight surprise but sucks slowly, still intent on taking her time with him. Tommy isn’t a very vocal man in the bedroom, and it’s unusual for him to be making noise so early into sex unless he’s about to cum. Usually, she’s the one having to hold back her sounds of pleasure, trying to avoid disturbing the servants. Is he closer than usual?
But when she sees Tommy’s face, it’s clear he isn’t caught up in ecstasy—or at least, he is, but that’s not the cause of the needy, teasing sounds he’s making.
He has to sneeze.
His eyes are half-closed, somehow still stunningly erotic even as he gasps and hitches. His nostrils are flaring uncontrollably with the tickle, and his lips are just barely parted. One of his hands comes loose of where it’s buried in her hair, and he drags his fingers roughly under his nose, trying to knuckle the tickle into submission. Already, the rims of his nostrils are an itchy-looking pink, and he scrunches his nose to fend off the sneeze. “M-May,” he gasps out, as though she can’t already see what’s happening. “Suh-stop, I—huhh—”
She lets go with a wet pop, pressing a sticky, open-mouthed kiss to his thigh that makes him moan through the tickle plaguing him. “You all right, love?” she purrs, and she knows she’s probably enjoying this too much. Great big powerful Thomas Shelby, now powerless in the face of a mouth on his cock and a tickle in his nose. It’s too delicious.
“G-gonna,” he tries to answer her, and he’s scrubbing hard at his nose now. “Gonna sneehhze—”
She climbs up to straddle him and sinks down onto him without hesitation, not needing any more preparation. The sudden pleasure and shock of it forces both of his hands away from his nose and onto her hips. He moans again, wordlessly, and she takes in the sight with a grin before she starts to ride him. For a moment, it’s just mindless gyration and thrusting, May slipping a hand down to her clit to stimulate herself as she brings them both closer to the brink.
But something changes—the tickle swells and intensifies—and Tommy tries to pull his hands away. Quick as a flash, May pins his hands to her hips underneath her own, keeping him in a position of holding her up. It means she can’t touch herself, but she’ll sacrifice that if it means she gets to watch his look turn desperate, helpless.
“May,” he tries again. “May, I h-have to… t-to…”
“I know,” she answers. She sees how his nostrils flare and his nose scrunches in a last effort to hold off the sneeze. “Go on, Tommy.”
The permission is all he needs. Unable to pull his hands away from her to cover in time, it’s all he can do to half-turn his face into her expensive pillows, letting loose into the fabric with a harsh, vocal, “heh’ESSHH’shieww!”
“Bless you,” she gasps out, riding him faster. The sneeze had made him pump deeper into her, and she can feel her heart racing in her chest as she rides him, ready to bring them both to climax. “Tommy, please, I need it…”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and there’s a trace of mess clinging to his upper lip that won’t quite come off when he drags his face along the pillow again. More tenderly than she’d meant to, May brings a hand to his face and brushes her thumb under his reddened nostrils, swiping away the mess. The touch is gentle, but also ticklish, and Tommy’s nose twitches before he buries his face into the pillow again with another urgent, forceful, “hehhsshhieww!”
May groans as he thrusts deeper into her, barely opening her eyes again in time to watch him sniffle. His nose looks properly irritated now, sensitive and tickly, and he already looks like he’s on the edge of another sneeze. “What’s got you so… so…?” she tries to ask, but she can’t find the words, and she’s so close to orgasm that she just gives up on the prospect of finishing her sentence.
He’s hitching again, his chest rising and falling, and she can feel his whole body moving underneath her as he takes in great gasping breaths. “D-dunno,” he forces out. “Just hafta… h-haf—huhh…”
“Sneeze?” she murmurs, teasing him, and his head snaps forward, the spray decorating her breasts and stomach.
“ehhtshhieww! eh… huht’sshhoo!”
She groans as the sneezes push him deeper into her. They’re thrusting so desperately now that she’s practically bouncing on top of him, and she can see the spray glistening on her breasts as they bob up and down with their undulating. “Tommy,” she says breathlessly, but he cuts her off.
“M’godda… guh… huh’gsshhieeww!” he sneezes wetly, this time managing to half-smother it into the pillow again. His breath catches, and he snuffles into the pillow before exploding again. “hihh’gsshhh!”
A twinge of concern brings her out of her reverie, and she brushes a hand through her bangs, wiping away the sweat. She’s only just now realized that her hands are no longer pinning him, but he’s still got a tight grip on her waist, as though it hasn’t even occurred to him to let go. That’s incredibly sexy, she thinks, and so is the helplessness, but really, that’s quite a lot of sneezing. “Are you all right?” she asks, slowing down their movements.
Tommy doesn’t respond, face still half-covered in the pillow. She can see his closed eye, those too-long eyelashes laid against his cheek. Those flaring nostrils, red and angry with irritation. Those parted pink lips, breathless with need.
“Are you feeling ill?” she ventures.
He shakes his head slightly, enough to reassure her. “S-started just now,” he answers, low in his throat.
May lays a hand across his chest, fingers spread wide and her palm soaking up the heat of their efforts. He’s beautiful like this, all winded from their exertions and from the itch in his nose, sweating in the hollow of his throat. He looks up at her with hooded eyes and there’s a hint of a smile on his face, sneezing aside. Tommy likes to pretend to be in charge, but she’s figured him out, she thinks: he likes it best like this, pinned down and ridden like a horse. Even teased a little, if the mood is right.
She thinks the mood is right. “Wonder what’s got you going, then,” she says dryly, forcing her voice not to quaver. She can literally feel his cock throbbing inside her, they’re both so close to the edge, and wouldn’t it be nice if she could push him along a bit? Take charge, the way she knows they both want her to?
He sniffles and doesn’t respond.
“Might be the pollen,” she continues, slowing down and riding him in long, lazy gyrations. “I have the servants crack some windows in the evening, this old country house doesn’t circulate well. You’d have been breathing it in all night. Poor city boy with hayfever, can’t handle a few flowers in bloom? Hm?”
Tommy shakes his head, but the talk of flowers makes his nostrils widen, and he sniffles back the product of a runny nose. Still, his hands don’t leave her curves, holding on almost too tightly as his fingernails leave crescent moon marks on her skin. His eyes are half-closed and his mouth slightly open as he tips his head back into the pillows, and he’s clearly overcome by some combination of the teasing tickle and pure, unbridled lust.
He’s enjoying this, she thinks. Whether he’d admit to it or not.
“Well, maybe not the flowers, then,” she agrees, for the sake of prolonging her little game. “Maybe it’s my perfume? A new one. I bought it just for you when I knew you’d be coming up yesterday.”
Slowly, May lowers herself so that she’s plastered along his front, one arm braced on the bed so that she’s just barely holding her upper half above his. He can catch the scent of the perfume like this, a heady, floral scent that she’d only dabbed on her throat and wrists yesterday. He hadn’t seemed affected by it last night, but maybe it had taken a few hours to build up in his system and provoke an allergy attack. She wouldn’t be surprised—he’s more sensitive than he looks, this one.
He inhales at her neck delicately, obediently taking in the smell of the perfume, and though his eyes water with the growing need to sneeze, it doesn’t push him over the edge. She cups a hand to his jaw and strokes his cheek, letting the scent from her wrist trail its way up to his nose, and smiles when it makes him sniffle but nothing more. “No, that’s not quite it,” she concedes, slowly rocking herself back on his cock. “Hm…”
“May,” he says hoarsely, and the need in his voice isn’t just for the itch in his sinuses. “May, please…”
“Shh,” she soothes, and runs her hand through his hair. She spots a tuft of white in his dark hair, raises an eyebrow in curiosity, and plucks out what appears to be a stray feather. “I think I have it,” she declares, leaning forward to kiss him, languid and filthy and slow. She knows he can taste himself on her tongue, and he likes that—it partly elicits the moan he lets out against her mouth. After a moment, she pulls away, brushing a featherlight kiss along his cheek and the bridge of his nose.
“W-what?” he asks dazedly, his nose twitching and trembling with desperation.
Slowly, she brings the feather down to his sight level, watching his eyes widen just the slightest bit with realization. “My pillows,” she murmurs, the same new pillows he’s been burying his face into all night and all morning. The same pillows he’s been using to stifle all his sneezing. “They’re goose down.” She flicks the feather against the very tip of his nose, and that touch, plus the power of suggestion, is all it takes.
His eyes nearly roll back with the ferocity of the spiking tickle, and he reflexively moves to half-stifle into the pillow. “hihh… hih… hisshhhieeww! huh… husshhooo! HUSSHHshhooo!” he explodes with a messy triple, each one wetter and more severe than the last. Each one only pushes him further into her, and she can feel herself getting close. He sniffles without meaning to, which forces out another, “hesshhieeww!”
“Bless you,” she says through clenched teeth, forcing herself upright to properly ride him once again. “Christ, Tommy… you’re gonna make me…”
“esshhooo! ESSHH! huhh… HSSHH! uhh… hihhh…” he hitches, his nose an inflamed, angry red as he hides it in the very pillow causing his allergic reaction.
Each sneeze forces him deeper inside her, and she slips a hand down to pleasure herself, two fingers bringing her to the edge. As she whines with the growing need, nearly at the point of release, he shudders forward and lets out a strong, shivery, “ihhshhshieeww!”
May throws her head back and lets out a tiny scream, the final sneeze pushing him inside her at just the right moment. The orgasm leaves her dizzy and still full of desire, and she pulls herself off him with a slick, wet noise. Before he can recover, she’s crawled her way back down and is kissing and licking at his cock, tasting the two of them combined and having never been more grateful for Tommy’s incredible stamina.
“Oh my God,” Tommy moans, and he brings one hand up, finally, to scrub at his nose. The touch only sets him off again, and his breath catches heavily, forcing out a strong, loud sneeze just as she swallows him down. “ISSHHUHHH!”
She moans and runs her tongue along the underside of him, the way she knows he likes best. His other hand grabs at her hair but doesn’t pull, holding her still as he tries his best not to fuck into her mouth. “Hmm,” she hums, letting the vibrations do the work for her.
He tosses his head to the side, carelessly spraying into the air with another violent outburst. “HESSHHHIEEWW! uhh… USSHHOOO!” Or two.
The sneezes force him down her throat, and May pulls off with a wet pop, strings of precum and her own slickness clinging to her mouth. She keeps one hand fisted over his cock, pumping him as fast as she can, eager to reach his climax. “Tommy,” she murmurs, kissing his hipbone, his thigh, anywhere she can reach. “Tommy, cum, please, just—” she ducks down to take him in her mouth once more.
She swallows down his cock again and sucks, just as he cuts her off with a roaring, desperate sneeze. “EHHISSHHIEEWW!”
The surprise of her mouth around him again, plus the enormous release of the sneeze, pushes him over the edge with a shout. He’s gone, and she pumps him throughout his moaning orgasm, swallowing down what she can.
After, his head drops back into the pillow, his eyes fluttering closed and his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths, and she thinks to herself that Tommy post-orgasm is quite like Tommy pre-sneeze. She lets go of him as he goes half-limp in her mouth, giving little kittenish licks to clean him up, which makes him groan wordlessly. When she’s done, she rests her chin against his hipbone and waits for his brain to start working again.
“Bless you,” she says playfully after a moment, and he groans in response, half-fucked out and half-embarrassed. She crawls her way back up his body, pressing lazy kisses wherever she desires, and stretches out and lays her head on the pillow next to him. “You know,” she says casually, “I’ve never quite seen you lose control like that.”
“Hn,” Tommy says, which is his answer when he doesn’t want to answer.
It makes her smile a bit that she can understand him so well, even though he makes it so hard on everybody. “I rather liked it,” she confides, and he cracks one eye open to study her.
“You’re mad,” he declares after a moment, which makes her laugh. “And you have ridiculous pillows.”
“They’re rich-people pillows,” she agrees. “Sort of the definition of decadence and overindulgent. It’s very fitting that you’re allergic to them.”
Tommy rolls his eyes and snuffles, rubbing his wrist along his nostrils to fight off another sneeze. “You think I can’t be overindulgent?” he asks, and suddenly he’s rolling over, leaning over her and kissing along her throat. His voice is low and rumbling. “Mm, sweetheart?”
“I think you can,” she replies, enjoying the afterglow version of Tommy, who is eager to please and often eager for round two. And she doesn’t mind the pet names, either, from a man who acts like he can’t be sweet, but often is.
His kisses slow down abruptly, and he sniffles again. He inhales, catching the scent of the perfume she’d teased him with moments ago, and it sends him right back over the edge. He stifles a sudden, soft, “hh’ksshh!” into the skin of her throat.
“I just think it doesn’t agree with you,” she finishes with a smile, and he growls against her neck, only a little annoyed with her and his own oversensitive immune system. “Don’t worry,” she continues, cupping a hand to the back of his head and stroking through his hair, “I’ll have the servants bring us different pillows when they bring tea. There’s obviously a rip somewhere in one of these, anyway, if there’re feathers in your hair. And I’ll have them close the windows, too—all that pollen can’t be helping.”
All her talk of tickly things doesn’t seem to be helping, either. He ducks down with another viciously wet, “hhk’gshh!” that he muffles into her skin. He sniffles heavily, then pulls back, going to rub his fingers roughly under his nostrils again.
“Stop,” she murmurs, and she reaches behind her, using her muscle memory to open the nightstand drawer and pull out a handkerchief. “Use this,” she directs, shoving it into his hands. “You’re not gentle enough with yourself.”
“Shelbys aren’t gentle,” he scoffs, but he takes the proffered cloth, wiping at his nose and soothing the sore, raw skin. “Thanks,” he tosses out without meeting her eye, the closest he can come to sincere gratitude.
She’ll take it. “You’re welcome,” she murmurs, waiting for him to set the handkerchief to the side before she reaches up and starts kissing him, long and slow and hot. “The servants… won’t be by… for an hour yet,” she says between kisses. “Maybe more. Perhaps… round two?”
He chuckles against her mouth, his hands already moving to grip at her waist again. “Works for me, love.”
imagine a sickie with a nasty, snotty cold going on a road trip with their friends/SO, and they're laying in the backseat and pretending to sleep, but really they're desperately trying to use their blanket to mop up the snot on their face, but the soft touch of the blanket keeps tickling their nose..
excuse me but i just went feral over the idea of a straight-laced workaholic, the epitome of stone-cold stoicism, sitting in bed with their phone/tablet/laptop open as they work late into the night, their partner curled against their side. while they work, a nagging itch begins to tug at their nose, crawling up with an utterly infuriating liquid burn. no matter how much they wish it would go away, the sensation refuses to back off or develop further into a sneeze. eventually, their irritation gets the better of them and they aggressively ramp up the brightness of their device in a desperate bid to sneeze.
You know, I like a good "cute but desperate" male sneeze. The harsh and powerful thing is lovely, but I'm all about the right dude managing an endearing factor. I'm not talking about "soft and kittenish," either. Pitchy and desperate. That's fucking cute. Give it to me.
He ran his hand under the tip of his nose, a warm trail of clear liquid dragged against the inside of his thumb as he did so. With a slight bit of disgust he dropped his arm and wiped the side of his palm against his jeans. A thick sniffle helped clean up the rest of the mess that had been made but not for long. This constant cycle of wiping his nose just for a short second of relief was starting to take a toll on the sensitive skin around his nostrils. They burned red with irritation and peeled unpleasantly. All in all this was one hell of a cold.
A loud sigh pushed out of his mouth but quickly erupted into a chesty coughing fit that lasted longer than he would have liked. Cheeks flushed red as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and sniffled once again. The force of expelling air out of his lungs so violently made his nose run and drip down the skin above his top lip. He moaned and grabbed a tissue from the box that sat next to him on the couch. Wincing he pinched the tip of his nose delicately, the skin was raw from repeating the same motion so many times. He did a quick swipe up of his nostrils with the heel of his hand when he was done wiping and then threw the used tissue on the floor to join the couple dozen others that laid damp and dejected on the carpet by his feet.
His nose still felt drippy so he sniffled thickly, something shifted deep in his sinuses, like the balance in his head was disturbed. Discomfort slowly turned into a buzzing itch that had him scrubbing at his nose with the side of his hand. The itch didn’t budge, it stayed for a few seconds growing with intensity until he felt his eyes slowly close. His head lifted as if in slow motion, fingers picking at the collar of his shirt, making a tent around the quivering nostrils that threatened to drip over the rim. His long eyelashes fluttered, mouth opening and closing a little before he snapped down with such force that he thought he would fall over. He felt the way that it gushed out of his nose, a thick torrent that dripped down onto his chest.
A wheezy gasp was the only pause he got before he bent down with another messy sneeze that pushed more of the mucus out of his nose. He sucked in a gasp for air when he finished, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, still holding up the collar of his shirt. He dragged the fabric down the sides of his nose, pinching towards the end to clean up the majority of the mess that plagued the bottom half of his face. The slimy mess began to slip around after a second so he pulled the collar of his shirt around to a dry patch and continued to wipe gently at his streaming nostrils. He pulled off the shirt, not wanting to continue wearing his snot for the rest of the day, and dabbed at his chest trying to wipe off the mess.
About 1500 words of snz nonsense with the new guy, Salem.
After being introduced to Raven's (until now) unknown kin, Jager decides for himself to check this guy out because he doesn't trust anyone. Ever. He's been tracking him off and on for days, but on this particular day, something else has his attention. Whatever could it be??
----------------------------------------------
Having tracked the source of the sound, Jaeger crouches in the underbrush, unseen and camouflaged by autumn leaves.
And bites his fucking tongue to keep from swearing.
Why did it have to be him. Goddamn it.
And he's so goddamn unconcerned with himself, too. Like it doesn't even fucking matter if anything hears this shit.
Jaeger squints through a narrow opening between the branches of the nearest bush. Salem is as pale as Raven, but with one very key difference. Thick, bold symbols are tattooed down his arms, the largest of which spans the space between his shoulders.
He's seen that shit before. Fae alchemy symbology, a supposedly forgotten and forbidden art. All over this fucker. Like, everywhere.
What the fuck. . .
But he's not exactly paying attention to the symbols right now, not when the shirtless bastard is so caught up in whatever the fuck is bothering the hell out of him.
He's settled himself on a fallen log, hair still slightly damp from whatever he'd just done in the lake. Probably some elemental change bullshit. Again, not really his focus. No, that would be on the--
"AESSSSH-uu!"
A weighted pause. The familiar glassy, unfocused stare. He presses the back of one tattooed hand against his nose with a cringe.
"--uhh'AESSSHH! HhESSSSCH!"
The sounds are harsh. Throat-scrapingly violent and sharp. Jaeger clenches his jaw, sinks further down into the grass, watches as he swipes a finger beneath his eye and sniffles.
"I know you're there, hunter."
Mother fu---
Jaeger briefly considers pulling a shapeshifting vanishing act, but thinks better of it. If this one is anything like Raven, he can not only outrun Jaeger, but probably eat him, too.
"Come out," he says. "You can't trick a trickster."
Shit, shit, shit. . .
Jaeger steps out from behind the line of bushes with an expression of contempt. "You're doing forbidden shit in the woods. Wanna rethink that statement, asshole?"
A slender eyebrow arches high. "Forbidden?" He laughs. "I'll do as I like. I have no master, especially not your Fae monarch."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about your lawless, alchemist bullshit," Jaeger says, voice steeped in sarcasm.
His stare is narrow. Assessing. "Why have you followed me?"
"I don't have to tell you shit, conjurer," Jaeger says.
The Shadow Fae smirks. "Is that the best you've got?"
Jaeger is just about to tell the mother fucker 15 ways to shove it up his ass, but the other Fae's expression melds into a snarl of irritation that makes him forget half of it.
He crushes knuckled fingers against his nose and winces. "Hheh. . . ! AEKSSSCH! AhhISSSCHuh! Huuh--AESSSSCHu! Gods, what is that blasted tree?" One slender finger points almost indignantly at a whatever-the-hell-it-is, bursting with white flowers.
"Fuck if I know," Jaeger says. "The hell do you call yourself again?"
"Salem," the Shadow Fae says, sniffling with wet indecency. He draws a series of symbols in the air and a handkerchief materializes in his free hand. "Were it not such a dry day, I'd set it on fire."
His tone is so scathing and bitter that Jaeger laughs before he can stop himself. "A damn good way to get seen by humans."
"Humans." Salem curls his lip and flashes one seriously pointed set of canines. "Oblivious sacks of flesh."
At least they could agree there.
Salem spreads the handkerchief over his palms and tips his head back, the jagged length of hair falling away to reveal one side is his closely shaved undercut. "Uhhh. . .AISSSSCHuu! Damn this infernal sneezing!"
"You could walk the fuck away from it, dumbass," Jaeger says.
Salem's pierced eyebrow arches high. "What concern is it of yours, hunter?"
Wasn't that just the fucking question of the century. . .
"Whatever," Jaeger grunts as he turns to go. . . somewhere the hell else.
Time to get the fuck away from this asshole.
"If this is the way in which the Wild Hunt trains its hounds, I'd say the Sluagh has the upper hand."
Jaeger bristles to halt. "The fuck did you say?"
"I can smell it on you, you realize."
What the fuck was this idiot talking about?
A smile splits the Shadow Fae’s lips. "Your arousal."
Salem is suddenly in front of him, pinning Jaeger to the nearest tree with one hand before Jaeger can so much as blink. "I told you, hunter. You can't trick a trickster."
“You wanna lose this goddamn hand?” Jaeger grabs his free wrist and sinks his nails in until Salem hisses, but the fucker still doesn’t let go. He does something a hell of a lot worse.
Vines creep from the branches to bind his wrist above his head and Salem slams his other hand against the trunk, Jaeger’s nails still firmly buried in his flesh. Blood trickles down his arm and the vines wrap his waist with a tight cinch that makes it hard to breathe, much less snarl.
“My blood lends the magic strength, you fool.” Salem brings his dripping wrist to his lips and licks the crimson rivulets into submission with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue.
Definitely not hot. Nope.
“You mother fucker,” Jaeger growls. “I’ll tear you apart!”
A finger presses against his lips, the sharp metallic scent of blood still fresh on his skin.
“Sssh, sshh, ssssh,” Salem says. “Your threat is a mere flirtation to me.” His hand travels down Jaeger’s side, nails raking his skin through the thin material of his shirt, The bastard’s breath is hot against his cheek, the tip of his nose barely grazing Jaeger’s ear. “But that is your vice, is it not? The seductive thrill of lethality, the quickening of your pulse within your chest. This is what a hunter is, yes?” He trails a sharp nail down Jaeger’s cheek. “Were you not such an inane cub, perhaps my interest would be piqued.”
“Get the fuck off me!” Jaeger snarls and the vines tighten, choking the words from his throat.
“Oh yes?” Salem arches one eyebrow. “Your body says otherwise, hunter. Your scent, your heartbeat, the sweat that dampens your skin? All betray you.” He takes an abrupt step back and blinks, the edge of his lip curling with an irritated hitch of breath. “Hehhh . . .! HhEKSSCH-uh! AEKSSCH! EKSSCH! ----hheh--AEKSSSSH-uu!”
“I’m so fucking threatened,” Jaeger say with as much caustic sarcasm as he can manage.
A hand clamps down upon his forehead, pushing him back into the tree and Jaeger slams his shields down a second too late.
The mother fucker knew. He fucking knew.
“Peculiar,” Salem says with a tilt of his head. “Although I am hardly one to criticize another’s--how shall we say---odd predelications.” He tosses his hair over one shoulder with a well-timed sniff, the edges of his mouth curving into a smile sinister enough to make Jaeger reconsider just why the fuck he’d tracked this asshole to the lake, anyway.
Like he didn’t know.
Nails trace lazy circles on his thigh and Jaeger tenses to fucking stone stillness.
“Ah, yes. Look at you. Hmmm.” Salem flicks his tongue over Jaeger’s lip ring without grazing the flesh and a shudder runs through him.
Goddamn it. And that smile. Nothing like the siren’s bright gentility, but the promise of dark things. Painful things. Bloody things.
“Best to let you suffer,” Salem says. He steps back with a gesture of his hand and the vines fall to the ground, leaving Jaeger just enough time to pounce before Salem vanishes in a haze of smoke and shadow.
Consider two people taking a shower together. One of them is sick and has been so stuffy and sniffling. The shower spray feels so good and warm but the conflicting sensations of water on their face means they don't even realize that their nose is dripping. THEIR PARTNER HOWEVER absolutely does notice and finds it's absolutely endearing. They wipe their nose for them - they're in the shower, why not? - and the sick person is incredibly flustered about the act as well as not noticing.
the image in my head today: someone allegedly alone in a room, working and they sneeze and behind them, their s/o is standing in the doorway, leaning against the threshold, arms folded in a mysterious sexy looming nature.
“Bless you.” And it startles the one who sneezed bc they thought they were alone.
TBH, snzblr monsterfuckers, we are sleeping on the potential of weird and exciting alien/monster/nonhuman nose designs. Allow me to propose but two of many options:
1. Nostrils that have a number of protective features/layers/membranes etc., so that every sneeze is a complex production of elements twitching, flushing, flaring, signalling the progression of the need and its urgency. The sheer helpless of so many parts scrambling to get out of the way, and their owner paralyzed with the mounting sneeze however long they need for it. The passage finally revealed in all its desperate irritation, and then release - or not! Perhaps the urge retreats from the precipice, and then someone must carefully, thoughtfully work through all these varied protections - a huge show of physical trust - to induce that complicated nose into the relief it craves.
2. Two sets of nostrils in one muzzle: a small pair higher up that are the smelling organ, and two larger ones at the tip through which the being breathes. The upper pair are quite sensitive, and frequent, small t’chf! sneezes are a natural occurrence and even feel pleasant, so that gently inducing for this creature is like a good back scratch (perhaps a social bonding activity?) Overdo it, though, and you trip the alarm on the main respiratory system: the primary nostrils begin to twitch, untouched, and flare enormously as they suck in air, and before you know it, a massive release explodes out of both sets. Hope you have more than one handkerchief!
Very into the idea of someone being so obviously bothered by an excess of physical irritant (dust, pollen, etc.) but they’re also so committed, on a personal level, to choking their sneezes back into useless little stifles. They’re prolonging their misery by refusing to actually give in to the necessary purge until it all becomes Too Much, and the whole thing is a stupid, beautiful disaster.
Dom edging a closeted snzfucker, repeatedly pushing them right to the brink of orgasm, then pulling back. Snzfucker is actually holding out quite well and resists the urge to cum…
..That is, until the dom’s allergies suddenly starts acting up and they begin to sneeze uncontrollably amidst their edging session.
Snzfucker gets immensely more turned on than they already were, and they’re already sooo sensitive and close to cumming… they’re too embarrassed about their kink to tell them right now, but in their gooned-up haze they stutter:
“P-please stop… I-if you keep.. unff- ..s-sneezing, I-I’m gonna…”
Dom has no idea and says between allergic hitching breaths:
“H-huh? I-I can’t stop.. my allergies.. sorry, i’m- HIH.. g-gonna…”
Both parties end up exploding simultaneously in different ways… and during aftercare the snzfucker has some explaining to do…
a monster x human snz scenario where the helpful human companion instinctively goes to hand them a handkerchief/tissues before realizing that, due to the monsters size, what theyre offering is next to useless
bonus if the monster accepts it anyway before they can think to retract the silly offer because theyre just that desperate
had a random thought : this prompt, but the opposite.
big soft monster bf/gf/so trying so hard to care of their sick/allergic/itchy human, but they keep damaging the human tissues/handkerchiefs (either it’s bc of a size thing or weird elemental magic bullshit). eventually they just give up and pass them their own (custom-made) tissues/handkerchief out of sheer frustration... only to be completely embarrassed by how oversized it is in comparison to their lover.
their partner takes it gratefully, and the monster melts a bit inside, embarrassment forgotten
a monster x human snz scenario where the helpful human companion instinctively goes to hand them a handkerchief/tissues before realizing that, due to the monsters size, what theyre offering is next to useless
bonus if the monster accepts it anyway before they can think to retract the silly offer because theyre just that desperate
Thank you so much for both the compliment and the ask! I actually have an affinity for vampires, since they are so serious and regal. That makes it especially interesting when their sensitive noses begin to work against their image.
I know that there are a lot of people who like flower allergic reactions, but I just finished a huge allergy fic not too long ago for @daystar428 (they have awesome art ‘n stuff, I would 100% check them out), and even though it was an awesome write, I need something a little different. But I still want a nice allergy...
Oooooooh.
I have an idea, but...I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Maria curtsied, waiting for her master, Nikolas, to face her. However, he just kept looking out into the garden, breathing in the air from the open window.
“Yes, indeed. I called you to give your list of chores for the week, as the Blood Moon Ball is coming up, and there are special preparations to be made. The written instructions are on the dresser next to the door.”
Maria blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. If she was going to be brushed off like this, one of the errand boys could have given this list to her. Nikolas must have sensed her frustration - he could sense heartbeats, after all.
“I apologize for the inconvenience. I thought perhaps your visit could deh...distract me.”
Nikolas lifted a gloved hand to his face and turned around. His eyes were glazed over, and his usually neat nose was swollen and pink. A knuckle rested below his septum, as if barely keeping everything together.
“I have had a...snrk...sneeze coming on all day. I thought the pollen from outside could coax it out. Wildflowers tend to aggravate my allergies, but now they aren’t doing much good.”
Maria took a closer look at her employer. His fangs sat crookedly on his lower lip, which were slightly agape from many a failed hitching. His nostrils flared, aching to be relieved.
He was on the edge of release.
With a swish of her skirt, Maria sashayed over to Nikolas’s desk, grinning.
“You know,” she said, holding up her feather duster, “I have just finished cleaning. And nothing makes a sensitive nose sneeze more than a bit of stray dust. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Nikolas sniffled. “I...I suppose so.”
Maria ran her hand through the feathers, causing a cloud of dust to fall to the floor.
“Imagine,” she said. “A strong, powerful vampire kept at bay by a little tickle. You do want to be free, don’t you? To release what has long been kept prisoner?”
Nikolas stared at the duster, transfixed by the debris slowly floating through the air. Finally, he looked back at Maria.
“Are you...? W-would you...?”
Maria giggled, plucking out a feather and using it to gently run it up the vampire’s throat and chin, but snapping it away before it got to his nose. Nikolas’s nostrils opened like a rose, quivering.
“I won’t let you be relieved so easily. Half of the fun is the journey, wouldn’t you say?”
Maria wrapped her fingers around Nikolas’s tie and pulled him to her face. He cried out, but was too shocked to pull himself away.
“Especially when the destination is over and gone so soon...”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” Nikolas stammered. “I haven’t any idea...”
“Of course you don’t. You inherited this house from money, not from work and cleverness. You haven’t had a single thought in your damn life.”
Maria, still holding Nikolas’s tie, led him to a nearby wall, then pushing his shoulders into it. They were shaking - either from fear or the sneezing welling up yet again. Noticing this, she held her employer’s nose between two fingers, watching intently as his eyes began to flutter.
“I want you to earn something,” Maria snarled. “I want you to gasp in desperation, and to know what it truly means to want. To be kept from something for so long you can barely stand it.”
Nikolas nodded, trying to open his mouth to speak, but Maria shushed him and put a finger over his lips, which were still ajar.
“What a fight,” she said, raising her finger up to rest on Nikolas’s nose. “You’d think it would succeed, trembling like that. Like a little bunny.”
Maria started tracing his nostrils with her fingernail. They shivered, overwhelmed by the urge to be rid of the foreign feeling, but unable to pull themselves away.
Nikolas snorted and hitched, his watery eyes rolling back. Maria grabbed his nose again.
“I’m not done with you yet.”
Nikolas gritted his teeth, his fangs extending ever further.
“Peh...please,” he begged, “I...c-can’t...guh...HUH...!”
“Need to sneeze, Master? Oh, but it wouldn’t be proper to relieve yourself in front of a lady!”
“Ho...G-god...I...GEH...!”
Snot streamed down Maria’s fingers and dripped onto the floor.
“Oh, what a mess,” she said, cocking one eyebrow. “What a wonderful mess. However, I simply must clean it.”
Maria let go of Nikolas, then started sweeping the duster around his neck. The poor vampire had his hand halfway to his nose, trying to catch a sneeze that was as fickle as the maid that stood before him.
“Oops! I seem to have missed a spot!”
Maria wiggled the duster in Nikolas’s face. The many feathers tickled every nerve, causing him to recoil, his long-suffering nostrils to quaver and wrinkle and buck, finally finding enough breath to end its suffering.
“Guh...huh...HAH...!”
Nikolas leaned back, his nose trembling with effort. His eyes flew shut and his quivering lips opened to welcome the long awaited release.
“GHAH...HAH’SHUH! HAH’SHOO! CHOO! HAH...HSH’SHUH!
Each sneeze released a cloud of liquid particles, which danced in the sunlight from the open window. Nikolas could barely contain what Maria had let loose, and his sleeves became stained with spray after spray.
After several minutes of tending to his itchy nose, the fit subsided, leaving Nikolas sprawled in his chair, exhausted. Maria squatted down to his level, waving the duster.
“Anything you’d like to say?”
Nikolas blew his full nose into a handkerchief that was much too small for the job.
“T-tank yeh...HSH’CHOO!”
The sneezing began with a new vigor, the master’s scratchy throat adding a note of desperation. Maria smiled and almost skipped out the office, her dust-filled weapon still in hand. She couldn’t wait to tell all the other waitstaff the good news.
There could simply be no work today.
Master Nikolas had unfortunately come down with something.
*****************
So...that...happened. Wowie. Not NSFW but reeeeeeeeaaaaalllllly close. I guess I have some fantasies that I didn’t even know were in my brain. I still can’t believe I wrote this in one day. That never happens...
Anyway, @mochiochiochi , I hope you enjoy your fic. Remember, if you hate it, I’ll write you a new one! Hand Slipped Guarantee!
Okay, my snzies! I know I’ve done this before, but I want to do something low-maintenance because I’m sick (not in that way, unfortunately - just a sore throat).
My question is this:
What snz memory from your childhood makes so much more sense now that you’re an adult?
oh would you look at the time *looks at watch that reads, “time to think about a person in a suit getting yanked pulled in by their tie towards someone who’s about to confirm check for a fever whether they like it or not”
