ohgodimafraud

[ohgodimafraud]

Ok huge shoutout to @kushami-hime for how much she gives to this community and how incredible her wavs are. This is a tddk fic based on snow day, this amazing wav where T/odoroki comes home to I/zuku after a long day in a blizzard.

Thank you so much again for letting me write this! 

—

The apartment has been filled with the sharp scrapes of tearing wrapping paper since Izuku had gotten home from patrol. He’d taken care in choosing presents for every single one of his class alumni at UA, excited to have the pro hero salary to support it. The streets have been quiet today, not even any low level crimes that needed intervention.

It probably has something to do with the blizzard that struck the city. It’s been raining down thick snowflakes all day, covering the air in television static. Izuku had spent more time helping citizens who lost their footing against slick sidewalks than stopping any real villains, which was fine with him. 

It felt nice to retire from an easy day of work to the comfort of his apartment, playing some winter special with a warm drink by his side.

He’s in the middle of taping together his present for Kota - a plush toy of a rabbit - when he hears the tell tale jingling of Todoroki’s keys in the lock. He looks up to see Todoroki coming in from the cold, small flurries chasing behind him.

Keep reading

[ohgodimafraud]

songs I’ve gotten pulled over to:

booty booty

boyfriend (btr) ft snoop dogg

songs I’ve gotten in a car accident to:

there is a light that never goes out

[ohgodimafraud]

2024 was the year I stopped spending hella money on men who did not like or respect me!!!!!!

[ohgodimafraud]

all i want for christmas is to literally go hug s/atoru g/ojo

[ohgodimafraud]

self-serve

yay thank you everyone for seeing and liking all my jjk fics and here's another from moi :D warnings...: character w sneeze kink pov, sick char pov, internalized kinkshaming (lol) tags!!: common cold, sneezing/coughing/the usual, fever stuff, medicine & home remedy mentions

“Megumi isn’t feeling good, so make sure you take it easy tonight, okay?” Gojo says with an extravagant pout as he leans on the doorframe with his shoes still on, blessedly implying that he doesn’t intend to stick around. “I’ll expect a full report on what you learn from him, you know. No screwin’ around.”

“Oh,” replies poor Okkotsu, who doesn’t deserve having to see Megumi like this or spend any of his time in an apartment that hasn’t been cleaned all week. Megumi isn’t sure why Gojo brought him here instead of arranging for them to meet in a neutral space for their briefing, other than to destroy Megumi’s dignity and risk Okkotsu’s health. “Are you all right, Fushiguro?”

Toward anyone else, Megumi’s eyes would roll in exasperation, mostly to send a message to stop listening to Gojo’s overbearing descriptions designed solely to antagonize. When it’s Okkotsu asking, his cheeks boil up instead.

“I’m getting over a cold,” he admits. He hates that this is the first thing he’s said to Okkotsu aside from an addendum-greeting when he opened his apartment door in the clothes he’d slept in, irritated with his immune system for lagging and with his sensei for calling unending attention to it. “I’m alright. Gojo-sensei likes being dramatic.”

He considers offering to take Okkotsu’s jacket and hang it somewhere for him, but stays back when he realizes he probably shouldn’t be touching another person’s things before washing his hands.

“That’s too bad,” Okkotsu says graciously. “A lot of people are getting sick with the seasons changing lately.”

Megumi thoughtlessly says, “It gotten you yet?”

“Not yet!” Okkotsu chimes. Good. Megumi can’t picture him with a cold right now, not with Okkotsu right in front of him and Gojo in the room. “But please don’t worry about me, Fushiguro-kun. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Of course he’d know that Megumi was going to express concern about that next. Megumi wants to reassure him that he’ll still try his best to keep his germs to himself, but Okkotsu keeps talking.

“And let me know if you need to stop and rest. I can probably take care of everything once I have more background on what I need to do tonight.” 

Okkotsu isn’t arrogant when he says it, but he backpedals regardless.

 “Not that your help isn’t appreciated! I didn’t mean it that way. It helps a lot with someone like you to guide me through what’s going on. You’ve studied the history of the district, right?”

“Yeah, uh.” Megumi scratches his neck. “I had extra time this week.”

“He means he was stuck in bed,” Gojo interjects with a vexing, waggling finger. Obnoxious. Megumi doesn’t mention that he’d been more hiding than he was stuck, and was recently devastated to find out that Gojo somehow knew that he was sick anyway. “He’s still mad about it, too, but you can’t exorcise with a fever. I’m actually surprised it broke so quickly. Sure you didn’t hack the thermometer, Megumi?”

“Yes,” Megumi says.

“I forgot about that rule,” Okkotsu says. His mouth twitches unhappily. “Does it only apply to certain techniques?”

Megumi wants to say that Gojo made it up just to be overbearing and piss him off, but the others do stay home if they have an infection bad enough to spike their temperature. He’s always had a harder time parsing when it’s best to quit, even if a cold is negligible and doesn’t impact his ability to work.

Gojo laughs and says, “It’s there to prevent mistakes in case of delirium or distraction. You’d think it was for morale, but they don’t really care how you’re feeling so long as you don’t screw anything up.”

“He’s right,” Megumi confirms. “Higher grades get less leeway in general, but it’s case-by-case.”

“It’s really unfair, isn’t it?” Okkotsu says, even though he could probably get the organization to change the rules if he wanted to. He’s got the clout for it. Megumi wonders if they’d let Okkotsu stay home if he asked, then chastises himself for thinking about Okkotsu with a cold again. It’s going to ruin him.

“Yep!” Gojo grins and pats Okkotsu on the back, which makes him stumble forward. “See why I like this guy? Real big heart on him.” 

Uh-huh. Megumi knows all about Okkotsu’s real big heart, and he won’t bother entertaining Gojo about it. Not like this. He nods toward a pair of guest slippers and Okkotsu gets the memo, sliding them on and stepping up into the main area of Megumi’s home. 

“And turn up the heat a little, will you? No wonder you’re still sick,” Gojo adds as he crosses his arms. “It’s fuh-reezing in here, man.”

With a frown, Megumi tries to figure out whether Gojo is messing around or not. He’s really not adept to host right now and his mind’s yet to fully clear, so he doesn’t take his chances.

“Sorry,” he offers only to Okkotsu, since Gojo should have left already. “I didn’t notice. Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all!” Okkotsu says eagerly. “I can keep my jacket on.”

“Shit,” Megumi says. “No, I’ll change it. Sorry. I’ve been drinking a lot of tea.”

“That’s good! It must be warming you up, then.”

“I should’ve checked the thermostat,” Megumi continues, aware that Okkotsu can probably hear the regret in his self-scolding. He looks at the wall and shifts his frown to the other side of his face. “Sorry again. You can come this way.”

“If only Megumi would invite me into his apartment, too,” Gojo whines. “Ah well. Hope you enjoy cramming! And I’m sure I’ll see you in the morning, if all goes well tonight.”

“Sure,” Okkotsu says pleasantly, and when the door shuts, Megumi can’t help the humiliated blush riding up the back of his neck. Okkotsu is behind him and can probably see it, but it would look suspicious for Megumi to pull his hood up. “Thanks for taking the trouble to relay everything to me beforehand, Fushiguro-kun. I really do appreciate the intel.”

Megumi sniffles and awkwardly says, “It’s no problem.” 

Without Gojo’s boisterous diversion, he can hear his own voice all too loudly. He might be feeling better than yesterday but he still sounds sick, and he’s supposed to teach the second strongest sorcerer in the universe about a rogue curse for an hour with half his consonants pinched and fuzzy.

“Table’s over there,” he directs with a nod toward his and Yuji’s kitchenette. Neither of them have been cooking this week so it’s relatively tidy, but he’s left a couple bottles of medicine on the counter near the sink. “Unless you prefer the couch? I can sit over by the window.”

He should probably put on a mask too, but he lost the one from yesterday after taking it off to eat.

“No, please,” Okkotsu argues politely, “that’s okay. You shouldn’t strain your voice. I, um… Did I already say not to worry about it?”

“You did,” Megumi answers. He clears his throat to stop himself from coughing, and it sounds rough and a little disgusting. “I’ll, uh, still try to keep you safe.”

What a ridiculous thing to say. If it wouldn’t be such a problem for everybody, Megumi would ask for his fever back so he’d have something to blame.

All Okkotsu does is smile at him and say, “Okay.” Megumi sits down at Okkotsu’s risk and takes his institution-issued tablet from underneath one of the books on his table.

“How much do you know about Shinagawa?” he asks first. “I don’t want to go through anything redundant and waste your time.”

“They have a Zambia embassy,” Okkotsu says thoughtfully. That isn’t relevant at all to jujutsu, which tells Megumi that he may have to start from the beginning. “Oh, and the mangaka of Kaze Hikaru was born there too, I think.”

While he pulls up his own report, Megumi says, “Yeah? I don’t know that one.”

“It’s pretty good,” Okkotsu says. “I reread it with Toge last year, actually, and he’s a lot more critical of those things than I am. It’s, um, a shoujo series?”

“Sounds…” Megumi stops himself. It could be rude to say Inumaki seems like he’d have a soft spot for shoujo or perhaps an anthropological interest, but his mind is still cloudy from the medicine he took earlier and it’s hard for him decipher what kind of commentary is appropriate.

He changes the subject instead.

“You spent time in Zambia, didn’t you?”

“Oh!” Okkotsu follows him. “I did, for a few weeks.”

“You like it?”

The app with all of Megumi’s info is still loading. Maybe he can airdrop the report and have Okkotsu ask questions so Megumi doesn’t have to think so hard about which pieces are most important.

“It’s hot,” Okkotsu answers with flitting eyes and a smile. “But the food was pretty good. I got to try a lot of different things when I was down there.”

So… he didn’t like it and doesn’t want to be rude, but Okkotsu is too transparent to hide his feelings. Why pretend?

Megumi sniffles and looks back down to the tablet while he wipes his nose on a napkin, god forbid he embarrass himself further as it starts to run. He says, “Most people would have a tough time. It’s supposed to be a worse culture shock with the jet lag of changing hemispheres.”

“I wish I’d known that before leaving,” Okkotsu comments, still smiling and still uncomfortable as Megumi tends to his congestion. “It would’ve been a lot easier if I’d been prepared for the change. It was weird to be so hot in January.”

Finally, the program loads and Megumi relieves Okkotsu of having to tolerate his foggy-headed small talk.

“I’ll send this to you and we can follow together,” Megumi says, looking from the tablet to Okkotsu, then opening the app’s sharing option. He sniffles again and wonders whether Okkotsu will have to watch him take another shot of cold medicine.

“Oh, um…” Okkotsu says. “Sorry, I didn’t bring my device with me. I can read upside down, though, I think?”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” Megumi insists. He clears his throat. “I’ll move my chair.”

Any objection from Okkotsu is cut down by the assertive scrape of Megumi’s chair against the floor.

Okkotsu takes the tablet and slides around it to face the right way, leaning forward and starting to scroll through the report. Before Megumi sits down, he takes advantage of the extra space to cough into the plush fabric of his sweatshirt and cringe at the way it rattles in his chest. When he emerges, Okkotsu is looking right at him.

“Fushiguro-kun,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? I’ve had a cough like that before. It’s painful, isn’t it?”

Megumi needs to clear his throat again before he can answer, because his initial response is a whispered, crackly squeak.

He tries once more and says, “It’s okay. I’m just shaking off the end of it.”

“What if I made some tea before we get started?” Okkotsu suggests, already standing, rubbing his hands together. Damn it. He’s still cold. “You said it was helpful, right? Toge always does that for me and I don’t think I’ll make it as good as him, but I’ll try.”

Being sick is so awkward. As much as he wants to keep Okkotsu from floating through his kitchen and curiously taking in all of the evidence of the week Megumi has spent with a vividly exorbitant head cold, he can’t stop him because now, he needs to sneeze.

If Okkotsu is in the kitchen focused on finding the kettle and navigating the stove, then Megumi could get away with avoiding the kind of concern and commentary that only shows up when he’s alone and fantasizing. With Yuji out for at least another hour, Megumi had been optimistic about his restraint from the emergent, contradictory arousal that comes from the incredible and electric and awful experience of showing off a cold in front of his rudimentary crush.

But his senses are dulled by the heaviness in his head. Megumi can’t tell how much of himself is showing, and that’s dangerous with Okkotsu around.

With permission from Megumi’s lack of protest, Okkotsu carries himself into the kitchen, eyes fixed on a box of assorted herbal sachets. Megumi allows himself to sit as the prickle in his sinuses blooms toward the inevitable.

“htCHsh!” It’s soft, and quiet enough not to be worth acknowledging, except… “chSH’iu! CHshh’iu!” …that they come in fast, annoying sets that he isn’t able to delay. “gktCHhyeu!”

“Oh, you’re sneezing,” Okkotsu sympathetically acknowledges while Megumi is still preoccupied. Fuck. “You’re like Toge. He always needs to sneeze a few times, too, before he’s done.”

And he’s comparing Megumi to his boyfriend. This is a disaster.

“hh’H–hDT’chyeu! Yeah,” Megumi says in a hurry to get himself under control, prioritizing his response over actually catching his breath. He feels every last word of Okkotsu’s statement pulsing through his body, moving along his limbs and spreading heat as they go. “Dunno why.”

The napkin he’d been using is more or less useless now, so Megumi takes another one and blows his nose to delay another episode. If he’s lucky, it could actually work.

“Is it like that for you all the time? With Toge it is, but I guess it’s normal for people to sneeze a lot when they’re sick,” Okkotsu laments. Megumi hears him start the kettle and tries to focus on that, but he’s already getting dizzy thinking about how that statement is sometimes true for Okkotsu himself. “Is chamomile okay? Or will that make you too tired?”

“It’s fine,” Megumi says. “You can make whatever you like. There might be sweeteners in one of the cabinets if you—”

“Oh, what’s this fruit one?” Okkotsu interrupts. Megumi looks over his shoulder. “Apple something?”

“It’s good if you mix it with the chamomile,” Megumi offers, satisfied with the distraction, pressing that same napkin underneath his nose as he turns back around for privacy.

“Okay.” Okkotsu loiters by the kettle and prepares the cups. Megumi considers mentioning the food thermometer and the tea’s temperature recommendation, but Okkotsu seems confident without much instruction and is busy asking questions about the campus-appointed dishware and whether he thinks it would be worth it to invest in some of his own mugs and plates. It’s enchanting how interested he is in everything. Megumi can’t say the same for many others.

With the detour, they’re going to take much longer than an hour. Yuji will get home before this is over and Megumi will have to update him on his cold in front of Okkotsu, because Yuji is definitely going to ask. Okkotsu might even participate with a report of his own, which would be nothing short of an erotic nightmare.

Having already failed at keeping Okkotsu from having anything to report on, Megumi’s best chance of survival now is to keep him focused enough to fly through the briefing.

The tea only takes a few minutes before it’s ready. Megumi can’t fulfill the courtesy of pouring Okkotsu’s serving, but Okkotsu doesn’t seem to think twice about it. He fills Megumi’s cup first, before he even sets the teapot down on the other side of the table. 

“Thanks,” Megumi says through the steam. Holding the cup does make him realize how cold his hands are, which makes him feel kind of stupid for not noticing sooner. “I’m sure it’s great. What do you think of the brew?”

Okkotsu nods and smiles after taking a careful sip. Seems he knew enough to keep the water from boiling too high after all.

“It’s good!” he says, smiling wide like it’s something impressive. Maybe it is, and Megumi is simply jaded. “I’ve never had fruit in an herbal tea before.”

“Fruit and flower buds taste good together,” Megumi says. “They tend to highlight each other.”

“I just hope it helps your throat feel better,” is Okkotsu’s apparent priority. His kindness is truly agonizing, and while Megumi isn’t surprised that this is his response to having to spend his evening with a sick person, he doesn’t know why the universe has decided that for the first time, it had to be him.

🍲⌚️🧺🌙

📱🥡🌿🧣

Not only does Yuji show up early, but Okkotsu dawdles so severely that they aren’t even halfway through page one by the time their meeting hour is up. 

He’s being thorough and is perhaps anxious about what kinds of questions he should be asking, given the uniqueness of his background, but he’s also distractible and curious and painfully easy to talk to. It means they were doomed to waste each other’s time from the start, because Megumi can’t help indulging with answers.

To ice the cake, Megumi had realized just a few minutes in that unless he sips on something hot at least every couple of minutes, he starts to lose his voice. Okkotsu has already made him another pot of tea by the time Yuji opens the door and announces himself with mellow cheer.

“Megumi, the door was unlocked!” he calls as he presumably moves his shoes, voice unbalanced as he hops into his house slippers and moves down the hall. “You’re home, right?”

“Yes,” Megumi says. Okkotsu sits up straight when he realizes Yuji is on his way in.

It’s past dinner time, but Okkotsu has his eyes on the fridge like he wants to get up and cook for Yuji, too. He taps his fingers on his bouncing knee.

“You must still be pretty sick if you forgot,” Yuji says. He comes into view and his concern brightens into surprise. “Senpai! That’s right, I forgot you were coming.”

“Hi, Itadori-kun,” Okkotsu says, smiling as his leg goes still. They’re always visibly happy to see each other. “Sorry if I’m in the way – I know we weren’t supposed to take this long.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Yuji says. He’s at the table quickly, his chin poking the top of Megumi’s head as he leans over him and reaches a hand up to touch his cheek. “Hey, you’re warm again.”

“Your hand’s cold from being outside,” Megumi corrects. “I’m fine. Got Gojo’s approval and everything.”

Even though it doesn’t supplement his case, Megumi coughs into the upper part of his sleeve. He can admit that it sounds troubling, but that’s how these things tend to go. A few days of misery and then another week of shitty half-symptoms that aren’t enough to keep him home in bed but still get in the way and prompt everybody to check on him. He clears his throat to get himself under control.

“Megumi was pretty sick a couple days ago,” Yuji tells Okkotsu while he rubs Megumi’s back. “It was so sad, dude, I thought we would have to go to the doctor or something.”

“That is bad,” Okkotsu agrees diligently. “I was saying earlier that I get the same kind of cough sometimes – it really isn’t fun. You said you’re getting better though?”

To avoid disturbing his lungs with another useless sound, Megumi nods and sips more of his tea. Yuji will cover for him.

After a moment of quiet, Yuji picks up on it and says, “Yeah, I think he’s okay. Colds just hit Megumi real hard, I think.”

As calmly as he can, Megumi lowers his hand to set his cup back down and then very quickly returns that same hand back to his face.

“ihCHht–! chtsh’iu!” It’s going to take a few more, he can tell. So can Yuji, apparently, thank heavens, and he puts a napkin directly into Megumi’s other hand so that he doesn’t need to open his eyes or reach blindly. “hk’chzsh! CHffZShh!” Finally, he manages a fuller breath to finish it off. “…hh–ihKTsh’uh!”

Of all the ways his body could respond to the reflex to sneeze, it’s just Megumi’s luck that he was built to need several tries for a single spark. The involvement of his voice is always involuntary and seemingly up to chance, and often pulls some sort of response from the people around him. At least it’s over fast. He wouldn’t ever leave the house if he were prone to drawn-out, explosive fits like Okkotsu is while fighting a cold.

“Aw, bless you,” Yuji actually says, out loud, in front of Okkotsu. He’s absolutely forgotten how Megumi’s cross-wired response extends beyond hearing other people sneeze. Talking about it is sometimes just as bad, especially with him in the spotlight.

What really nails the fucking coffin, though, is Okkotsu characteristically joining in on the fun.

“Oh yeah! ‘Bless you’,” he echoes in the wrong accent. “I forgot about that.”

Electricity nearly freezes Megumi’s every last muscle, nerve, and neuron. These interactions always escalate, and he has to respond.

“Thanks,” is all he says, and all he’s expected to say, but it’s enough to make his blood run at least twice as fast. He and Yuji had sex twice this morning, and he took care of himself to the memory of it in the afternoon. He shouldn’t still be this frustrated, but at the same time he isn’t surprised. Maybe it’s the rarity or even the exhibition of it all, but this part of him is insatiable.

His hair covers his eyes when he bows his head to blow his nose, and Yuji rolls his hands over both of his shoulders while he does it and makes him feel a little better.

“I think you’re the only one I know who says that when people sneeze, Itadori-kun,” Okkotsu says. Megumi focuses on keeping his breath steady like that comment didn’t just drown him in lava.

“Huh. Really?” Yuji is behind Megumi and out of sight, but he still knows he’s trying to find a memory by looking at the ceiling. “I guess nobody really says it here. People do it in movies and I just thought it sounded cool.”

What the hell?

“It was customary when I was overseas,” Okkotsu explains. “I picked it up to blend in but I forgot sometimes. I think they don’t mind as long as you say something.”

Honestly, Megumi might like that better. If there’s a built-in expectation, then people would move past an incident of sneezing without having to make an entire conversation out of it. 

Like Yuji and Okkotsu are doing now. If it were anyone else, Megumi would be comfortable sinking into the ether and waiting for the end. But with the two of them, he can’t help listening fondly and excitedly, and also feeling massively uncomfortable for both the fondness and the excitement. If he could focus on one feeling, or even two that go together, then maybe Megumi could manage.

But with the contrast storming inside him? He isn’t sure he’ll survive.

“How’d you know when to say it?” Yuji asks. “I mean for people like Megumi who always sneeze more than once.”

Okkotsu hums and taps his jaw, looking to the ceiling for help with recall before he says, “That happened to me sometimes. I think you can just do whatever feels right.”

“Huh,” Yuji replies. “I’m usually one-and-done. Guess I’m lucky, even if… uh, yeah.”

Even if Megumi isn’t, he’d nearly said, Megumi is sure of it, because they’ve talked about that before. It’s cute that Yuji is a horrible actor, but it’s dangerous, too. Hopefully Okkotsu won’t notice or try to figure out what he means.

At worst, he could play it off as Megumi being unlucky solely because he’s prone to those occasional rapid bursts when Yuji isn’t, and it’s inconvenient and uncomfortable. Not because he’d love it on Yuji so that he could watch.

Damn. If only.

“I didn’t think about this before, but it’s kind of opposite,” Okkotsu explains, thank god. “Most people here don’t care if you sneeze once, but in English they usually respond right away. But if you keep sneezing, they leave you alone.”

“What?” Yuji says. “I could never do that.”

“I know…” agrees Okkotsu. “I’d feel too bad about it. They did do something in French that was different for each sneeze, if you had a few in a row? But I can’t remember how it went.”

Megumi knows. He won’t say so, not just because he’s sick and can’t bear listening to himself, but because he doesn’t speak French and there’s no innocent reason for him to have ever learned about that.

“Wow. I forgot how cultured you are, Okkotsu,” Yuji remarks.

“Oh, no, no. No, I don’t think that’s true!” Okkotsu argues with that too-charming, nervous and flattered laugh. “My French is so bad. I barely speak it, and I’ve actually never been to Europe or anything except for layovers.”

“Still. You’ve seen a lot of stuff,” Yuji offers. “You never talk about it.”

“Mmm. I guess it doesn’t come up a lot.” While Okkotsu’s response sounds cheerful, it contradicts his history. It came up just earlier this evening, which had been Okkotsu’s doing. He’d mentioned Zambia specifically, even if it wasn’t in response to himself. Perhaps he’d thought that Megumi had forgotten his travels, too?

He feels Yuji nodding before he says, “It’s interesting though! Did you get to do anything crazy? Other than the curse stuff.”

Okkotsu nods back and bounces his leg a couple of times, then stops himself and switches to tapping his hand.

“I’d have to think about it,” he says. “I guess there were a couple, um… Oh, do you still have to sneeze?”

It seems that Okkotsu is just as ready for the next distraction as Megumi is dismayed. He’s going to fulfill Okkotsu’s prediction whether he likes it or not.

First, twice in a row as he tucks his chin into the collared hood of his clothing, which is almost as high up as the neck of his uniform. They’re so close together that they’re basically connected – “it’TSch! tzsh’iu!” – without a chance for a breath between them. He gets about a second before the third, which comes roughly and with enough strength to make him shiver. “htCHzsh’yu!”

Both Yuji and Okkotsu are overbearingly kind, waiting for him to continue, but Megumi transfers his face from cotton to paper to signal that he’s finished. He sniffles against the driest patch of his table napkin and revels in the tactile comfort of Yuji casually, solidly patting him on the shoulder he hadn’t just sneezed into.

“Bless you. Good job!” he says. “Hey, where are those tissues you were using? Didn’t we have  a box somewhere…?”

Honestly, Yuji is a dream. So much so that Megumi is humbled by how much he likes him. He’s struck by a depraved thrill at how private this feels.

“I left it… huh’ISsh’u! in the bedroom,” he explains in a hurry, apparently not so done with sneezing after all. “HTT’chyu! Fuck, sorry.”

“Ah, poor Megumi,” Yuji says, still casual in tone and dreadfully endeared. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Itadori-kun,” Okkotsu says. “Maybe… I think Fushiguro should go back to bed?”

“Huh?” Yuji says, already having let go of Megumi in preparation to gather supplies from his sickbed. “It’s only eight.”

“No, it’s a good idea,” Megumi says. The more he talks, the less he wants to explain a cursed neighborhood to Okkotsu. He doesn’t feel as achy and miserable, but that doesn’t mean much when he’s showing symptoms so blatantly. He even sounds contagious. “I’m not sure we’re going to get very far, and I don’t want you to catch this off of me.”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t.

“Oh, Fushiguro-kun…” Okkotsu frowns and moves the pads of his fingers against each other. “You aren’t going to get better if you keep worrying about that kind of thing.”

Yuji returns and resumes his lean on Megumi’s back, pushing air from his lungs in a grunt.

“Senpai, you should buy some of the lemon vitamin drinks,” he says as Megumi clears his throat to delay a cough.

“I’ve seen those,” Okkotsu says. “Do you think they work?”

“Well, I’ve been chugging them and I haven’t gotten sick,” Yuji says. “Megumi doesn’t like them and look what happened to him.”

“They’re too sweet,” Megumi explains, hoarse as he thinks in passing about how handsome Yuji is with a cold, and how it’s unfair that Megumi is more often on the other side of it instead. “Nothing with that much sugar can be good for you.”

“But they’re so tasty,” Yuji replies. “That’s gotta count for something.”

“Maybe I’ll see if I can get some in the store on my way back,” Okkotsu replies brightly as he stands up. “Do you want to email that report to me, and I can just read it and ask you if I have questions? I’ll probably be awake late anyway.”

“It’s what we should have done to begin with,” Megumi agrees. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way.”

“No, it really was useful! And I’m glad I got to say hi, and try a new drink…?” Okkotsu looks down at the cooled porcelain pot on the table, now hollow without its bottom layer of herbs and flowers soaked and drained of their flavor. “But I have a feeling you were only doing better because you spent the day in bed, Fushiguro-kun, so please try and get some rest after I leave.”

Sitting up on a chair and having a conversation over hot tea shouldn’t have taken such a toll on him, but the stress of his misdirected blood flow and its accompanying shame could certainly be a factor.

But Megumi doesn’t say that.

“I will,” he promises in response. “I’ll probably be on in an hour if you need anything.”

His offer makes Okkotsu look nervous, but that’s par for the course. He nods and fidgets with something in his pocket instead of expressing his anxiety directly.

“Let me walk you out,” Yuji says. He smooths out Megumi’s shirt and touches Okkotsu’s shoulder right after, patting him with friendly familiarity and prompting a smile as Okkotsu relaxes. To Megumi, he adds, “Be right back for real.”

Both Okkotsu and Megumi say goodbye to one another as Yuji guides Okkotsu down the hall. He’s a much more chivalrous entertainer than Megumi could ever be, regardless of his health or energy or feelings toward their guest. It makes Megumi feel warm again, with admiration for Yuji and the motivation to do better next time, and the affectionate wave that comes with knowing that even if he doesn’t, Yuji will have him covered.

With permission from the relief of solitude, Megumi crosses his arms upon the table and lays his head on top.

A multitude of moments pass him by as he tries to process what the universe has just put him through, and he gets so stuck in himself that he startles when Okkotsu returns.

“Fushiguro-kun…?”

It’s soft, even softer than Okkotsu’s speaking voice, but Megumi still jumps.

“Oh! Sorry!” Okkotsu reacts, suddenly shrill. “Were you asleep?!”

“No.” Megumi clears his throat and sits up, pressure shifting in his forehead. “Uh, did you forget something?”

“Here, I just thought— sorry, is this okay?— I thought I’d…”

Megumi moves his eyes just enough to see Okkotsu reaching for his tablet, and he nods to approve him of doing whatever.

“I’m just going to send this to myself so you don’t have to worry about it, and I can text Gojo-sensei to let him know we’re done,” Okkotsu says. He taps on a few things, presumably going ahead with his task after Megumi unlocks the file for him.

“Thanks,” Megumi says. “He’s gonna spam me otherwise.”

“Mmm. I believe it.” Okkotsu smiles, then looks at Megumi again. “Okay, I’m really going! I’ll talk to you later when you’ve had some time to recover. I’m sorry if this is rude, but you really sound sick right now. Even if you do pass that regulation thing. Sometimes they make me go back to work when I’m not at a hundred yet, and…”

He doesn’t say how he chooses to return, too, without any pushback so long as his talents are truly needed when he’s called. Megumi has heard unmentionable stories.

Okkotsu almost laughs. “I guess I just don’t like that rule very much! So please take care of yourself, Fushiguro.”

One of Okkotsu’s draws is that he’s intense all over, in his feelings and actions and the way his body is always begging him to express himself. He’s intense in how much he cares about his friends, whether they’re injured fighting deadly monsters or stuck at home with the sniffles and a hot water bottle. This exchange feels like a weird dream, and the way Okkotsu is regarding Megumi specifically has left him groggy with esteem.

“Thank you,” he manages anyway. It hits him that Okkotsu has been analyzing the congestion defiling everything he says and thinking very hard about Megumi’s cold all this time. “…I’ll probably lie down for a while.”

Donning a perkier, more relieved version of his earlier smile, Okkotsu echoes the sentiment and says “thank you” as though Megumi is doing it just for him.

For the wrong reason, Okkotsu is correct. Megumi waits until he hears the front door shut before he returns to the bedroom and makes himself at home.

[ohgodimafraud]

thinking about G/ojo playing up an allergy or sensitivity for the sake of Attention and/or to get out of a boring meeting or some other responsibility he doesn’t want to deal with… only for the reaction to get away from him, and now he has to deal with a helpless fit rapidly spiralling out of his control while also fending off the rising concern and alarm coming from the people around him

[ohgodimafraud]

I’ve been asserting my do not have me over if you’re sick boundaries which is scary but not as scary as being exposed unnecessarily to stuff

[ohgodimafraud]

christmas bonus - ser/irei - m/ob p/sycho

cw: nsfw, allergy snz, kink reveal, ~4.6k

kink!seri/zawa

hiiiiii @silversinfinity im ur secret santa. <33 i really hope u like this. im very grateful to call u my friend. i tried to write more but did not want to get too sappy in the a/n ily!!! merry early christmas

The day had started out with more promise than most days for Reigen Arataka and his wallet. One of his regular clients was so pleased with the last aroma express experience, that she’d promised him a Christmas bonus. Reigen had expected, well, cash, but as per usual, reality was a bitch and left him in a state of disillusionment. 

The large potted pine tree stood proudly in front of the window and he forced a smile as he took in the sight of it again. Forgive him if he was still wary of trees. It would always be too soon, but the customer’s smile was so wide and genuine that it deepened her crow's feet and Reigen couldn’t find it in himself to make her feel bad for trying to do something nice.

“Thank you so much,” he said to her with a slight bow, face contorting in psychic pain as he looked again at the incriminating path of needles all over the floor as if he hadn't just vacuumed yesterday.

“I hope you like it. It’s one of our best pines.”  

“Oh, it’s wonderful.” 

“I’m so glad,” she said, with her hands clasped together, “I’ll be sure to tell my friends all about your company and your fine services.” She gave him a wink as if her husband weren’t waiting outside in the truck he’d used to bring over the tree. Regardless, Reigen quickly shook her hand and offered her multiple business cards to distribute before she could pull away. 

They exchanged a few additional pleasantries before she left, leaving him alone with the tree. He began looking at it from a few different angles to gauge its potential, wondering all the while if he even had enough items to decorate it properly. It took up a lot of space but also wasn’t overly invasive at the same time. He supposed he could work with this. 

Decorating for Christmas would probably draw people into the store, and perhaps the real bonus would be that it would bring in business. He exhaled and pounded his fist to his palm in resolve. He hadn’t decorated the store for Christmas since his first year at Spirits and Such, but figured he had no excuse now that he had a tree, so he went into the closet and pulled out an old dusty storage bin. 

As he returned to the lobby, the door jingled and he set the bin on the table so he could give his full attention to filling in Serizawa on the current situation.

“Hey,” Serizawa greeted him with a handsome smile and set two hot cups from the nearby cafe down on the table. In his peripherals, he noticed a large green blur and turned his head to get a proper view of the new addition. “Oh… I see we have a tree now.” 

“We do,” Reigen said, pointing at him with enthusiasm. “Get ready, Katsuya, I have a new special project coming your way…” He paused to smirk at the slight blush from his partner in business and more at the still somewhat new use of his first name in the office. After he'd created enough suspense, he gestured towards the tree. “We’re gonna decorate this thing.”

“I thought you wanted me to balance the checkbook tonight.”

“Ah, but…” Reigen trailed off, brow furrowed as he started to feel an itch prickling at the back of his sinus cavity. When it didn’t subside, he raised a finger and ducked into his inner elbow to sneeze. “HGSCHhx’ue!”

“Bless you.” 

“Thank you. Oh…wait…” He squinted as he quickly realized he wasn't done and took a step back, turning away from Serizawa to sneeze again, the sound loud and resounding in spite of his attempts to muffle it against his sleeve. The hairs on the back of Serizawa’s neck stood up as he stood there, unable to do anything but watch and listen. “IhhGSCHh’ew!  h-hehH… EHDSCHhu! Ah, sorry, this lid’s pretty dusty.” 

Figuring that would be the end of it, Serizawa hummed sympathetically and averted his gaze while Reigen unpacked the bin while sniffling and wriggling his nose. He subtly flexed his thighs and put his hands in his pockets and tried not to let the sound echo in his mind on repeat against his instincts to want to remember it for later. A few deep breaths, and the sensation passed for now.

Reigen produced a tangled mess of red garland and string lights and placed it on the table, too preoccupied to notice the way Serizawa’s posture had stiffened. As he unpacked globe ornaments wrapped in tissue paper, he added, “Anyway, we can do that later. I already took the box out, and unpacked it, so…”

Serizawa sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d already forgotten what they’d been discussing merely a minute ago and was too distracted to make an argument about priorities; in all honesty, he’d need a few moments to be able to focus on anything important at all. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt that much to wait on it,” he conceded. “I’ve actually never really done Christmas decorations. Seems like fun.”

“That’s the spirit.” Reigen clasped his shoulder and let his hand linger. “We could make some origami ornaments out of our old paperwork.”

“I…” Serizawa started, palms raised apologetically, “I can try but I’ve never really done that before. Also, some of that we need for taxes.”

“We have some old fliers that never got sent out.” Reigen waved his hand dismissively and continued to think out loud. “I can do ninja stars and cranes at least, but we’ll figure it out later. I only have a limited amount of actual ornaments, we don’t want it looking too half-assed, y’know?”

“Do you think this will bring people in?”

“Yep, the general public loves festivity during these dark, dark times, plus it’s a good photo opportunity. Even if it doesn’t, we can take a company photo and send it out to our regulars.” He rambled on, sniffling a few more times as the itch hadn’t yet been quashed. Serizawa considered offering him a tissue, but didn’t want to embarrass him. Finally, he noticed the cup on the table and grinned. “Oh, what’d you get me?”

“They had new matcha lattes with vanilla.”

“Thank you,” Reigen said emphatically and brought the cup to his lips, taking a careful sip. “It’s good, really sweet…like you.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” Serizawa bit his inner cheek at the compliment and rather than respond directly, distracted himself with his own drink and sat beside Reigen on the couch. He watched him untangle the string lights from the garland, hands moving haphazardly until one of the knots came undone. 

“We can start with this.” Reigen gave him a triumphant grin like he’d won a settlement in a small claims court. 

Serizawa nodded. Reigen made swift work out of the detangling process, and was nearly done when he suddenly paused, his shoulders raised, his brow furrowed. For a moment, Serziawa wondered if he’d changed his mind or if something was wrong with the wire, but then his breath hitched again and he only recognized the wavering gasp as a predecessor to a desperate sneeze as it happened in real time. 

“heh’IHGSHHhyue!” This time Reigen was late with bringing his sleeve up, and he was able to catch a glimpse of the way his upper lip curled and the bridge of his nose wrinkled from the intensity of the itch, indicating he wasn’t done.

“Bless you,” Serizawa said, barely getting the words out before it happened again.

“hH’GHSCHhue!-”  This time managing to cover it more effectively, though the sneeze itself failed to relieve him at all.

“Bless—“

“Heh’EHDjtSHHu! Hahh.” Reigen sniffled quickly, and cuffed his sleeve over his nose to prevent any leakage, only to struggle against another sneeze, and through his fluttering eyelids caught Serizawa’s gaze. “ehH…sorry. Just a s-second…h-hh! hehH’DtSHHhew!” 

Serizawa was sure that if he said bless you again that the desire would spill out into his tone, so he swallowed the dry lump in his throat, tried not to look at the way the sneezes had left a dark gray spatter along his sleeve, and asked, “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, thanks.” Reigen sniffled hard and nodded again and rubbed his septum up and down with a hooked finger. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Excuse me. I don’t know what got into me there.” 

Serizawa crossed his legs and tried to ignore the way he sniffled for the rest of the process of separating the lights from the garland, but it was impossible as his problem grew with each one. When the lights were finally untangled, Reigen coiled the wire over his arm. Serizawa was mesmerized by the way his nose continued to scrunch as it fought off the lingering irritation, but the longer he looked, the more the blood rushed south, so he studied the ornaments on the table. Reigen was right, these probably weren’t enough to completely decorate the whole tree, but he figured they didn’t have to do the parts that weren’t visible. 

“Anyway, uh, wanna help me hang them up?” Reigen asked, punctuating the question with a quick sniffle. He was swinging the plug back and forth, and as if he were hypnotized, Serizawa nodded. He was about to use his abilities when Reigen plugged in the lights and started wrapping it around the base of the tree, pausing to hurriedly sneeze again, poorly containing it against his sleeve, and leaving another visibly damp spot when he pulled away. 

“Bless you,” Serizawa said just as breathlessly. It wasn’t too unusual for Reigen to have this prolonged of a sneezing fit, but they were generally exclusive to times when the pollen count was high or he’d caught a cold. Even when he dusted around the office it generally only triggered a sneeze or two. Yes, he was counting. 

Reigen still wasn’t done. His nose wrinkled as he vainly tried to avoid a repeat performance to no avail. “heDSHhh’huh! eHehh-!…Ahem. Excuse me.”  

That one had sounded particularly harsh and throat scraping, broadcasting the fact that the itch was so potent that it had spread to the roof of his mouth. With a concerned frown, Serizawa moved to grab the tissue box off of the desk. It was a good enough excuse to turn away and calm himself down enough to face him again. 

“Here,” he said, holding out the box. 

Reigen shook his head. “I should be done now,” he claimed. 

Serizawa gave him a skeptical look when he immediately sniffled again and rubbed his nose aggressively, but to his credit, his wavering breaths were unyielding sans the arousal they cultivated. The tree shook as he continued dressing it in lights. Serizawa watched, figuring he’d jump in if Reigen couldn’t reach the top, but in spite of his invitation to help, he seemed to have it under control and likely needed a few moments to collect himself too. His hands moved efficiently, rarely faltering on the branches. He was more than halfway finished when he suddenly cursed, head snapping back as if he were pained. 

“What’s wrong?” Serizawa asked, noting the way he was gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. “Did you stick yourself?” 

He quickly realized how naive his question was when he heard a sudden telltale gasp.

“nGKtSHhuue! hehH’KNGtzsh!” Reigen answered with a set of poorly stifled sneezes hastily aimed into his shoulder. His eyes were watery as he entirely let go of the lights and left them in a state of limbo to grab a bunch of tissues which he hurriedly shoved into his nose. He’d only managed a pitchy gasp before erupting into a full blown fit. “hhH’IGHshhu! hH’ISHHhew-! H’DZTsshew! hh-hihH-! Hh’NGT’tuh! Oh by god.”

“Bless you.” Before he could second guess himself, Serizawa placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him and gave it a gentle squeeze. A look at his face told him he was trying to ignore the unrelenting itch that had been bothering him this whole time. Serizawa’s face softened when Reigen rubbed his eyes. “Hey, will you answer me honestly?”

Reigen nodded, his lips parted as he breathed slowly through his mouth to starve off the tickle. He’d ended up popping his ears with the last attempted stifle.

“Are you catching a cold?” he asked gently, his arousal subsiding in favor of making sure he was actually okay. 

“No, nhhoh. -hGKSHhu!” Reigen caught another sneeze with the soaked wad of tissues and finally resigned himself to shrugging off the hand on his shoulder and turning away to blow his nose. “I mean, I don’t think so. I’m just…itchy.”

“Really?” Serizawa couldn’t help but give him a skeptical look. 

“Yeah, It’s a real pain, but it’s nothing serious. I—” 

He cut himself off when Serizawa put a palm to his forehead, gently pushing up his bangs and revealing the healed scar by his hairline. Aside from glowing cheeks and a Reigen-typical amount of sweat on his forehead, he felt no signs of fever, though it was always possible he’d taken an aspirin. He let his eyes linger just for a moment at the way Reigen rubbed his nose with his knuckle, their hands brushing briefly. When he raised an eyebrow, Reigen elaborated. 

“I swear I was fine when I woke up, and all day really. It’s definitely just allergies.” He held his palms up defensively, somewhere between touched and embarrassed to have someone paying this close attention to him. Serizawa had caught him with a fever once at work and had never let him forget it; he didn’t think he could live down being forcibly escorted home again. 

Though plausible, Serizawa had to wonder what could be setting him off in the beginning of winter. Maybe some dust had really gotten up his nose, after all. There really was a coat of dust on the plastic bin, after all.

Just when Serizawa thought his mind couldn’t get further into the gutter, he noticed a tear forming in the corner of Reigen’s eye and before it could travel down his cheek gently thumbed it away until he was framing his face with his palms. When Reigen leaned into the touch, he obviously felt the erection poking into his hip and Serizawa caught a microexpression of genuine surprise cross his face before it settled to a more flirtatious one.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Reigen smirked and looked up at him through his lashes. “What’s got you all riled up, hm?”

“You,” he said honestly. Then he leaned in and kissed him. Their lips met clumsily at first before falling into a somewhat experimental rhythm as Reigen tried to breathe through his mouth in between kisses. 

Reigen anchored his hands around the back of Serizawa’s neck and moved closer until their bodies were flush. He could feel the way Serizawa’s erection pressed into him, further confirming his arousal and inspiring his own. Just as he was about to ask about it, he could feel his nose start to itch and run again. 

“Sorry.” Reigen abruptly pulled away and sniffled frantically and gestured to the tissue box. He gave a hurried chuckle and explained, “I’m kind of a mess.”

“Ah, here,” Serizawa said, retrieving the tissues, sheepishly adding, “I forgot where we were for a second there.”

“To be fair, it is after hours, so...” Reigen pulled some tissues and swiftly blew his nose, looking up with a microexpression of self consciousness that Serizawa was beginning to notice more and more. Tongue in cheek, he added, “Just don’t file any sexual harassment claims, yeah?” 

Serizawa rolled his eyes, remembering how Reigen had him sign a relationship disclosure form when they’d started dating. It was framed in his bedroom. Well, it was a studio apartment, but it was on the wall next to the bed. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” 

Reigen shrugged. “Anyway,” he started, one of his eyebrows disappeared behind the shade of his bangs. “I’m curious.”

Serizawa stiffened in anticipation. Oh god. Of course he’d wonder. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t—  

“What about this is doing it for you? It’s not like you have a thing for sneezing or something, do you?” he joked. 

The silence on Serizawa’s end along with the look of mortification was more telling than a simple yes would have been. His brain scrambled to think of a response, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he gave an apologetic smile and nodded. 

“Wait-! Wait..Really?” Reigen also blushed, looking like he was about to eat his shoe. For once, he seemed speechless.

“Yeah…” Serizawa said, gauging his reaction over the pounding in his ears. The floor could swallow him up and he’d accept his fate easily. “If that’s too weird, I understand.”

“What?” Reigen asked incredulously, placing his hands on Serizawa’s hips and pulling him in by the belt loops on his pants. “You think I’d draw the line at something like that?” He leaned in close so his lips ghosted the shell of his ear and murmured his desire to know more into his ear. “It’s sweet. I like seeing you all riled up.”

A chill traveled down Serizawa’s spine in contrast to the overwhelming heat his body was both producing and withstanding somehow. He relaxed into Reigen’s touch. “What do you want to know?”

“Hm. Everything.” He tapped his chin. “Here’s a softball first, though. What would happen if I sneezed again right now?” 

Serizawa’s erection throbbed and he was sure the arousal was written all over him, and he made no attempt to hide it. 

“Oh, is talking about it enough to get you going?” Reigen drank in the look in Serizawa’s eyes, the redness and sweat on his face, the way his posture had shifted, the bulge in his pants. He palmed him and felt him over his pants, the friction only fanning the flames as he deliberated. “Y’know, I do really have to sneeze again. I was actually trying to hold back because, well, y’know. I didn’t wanna gross you out or anything.”

Serizawa was suddenly all too aware of his body, of the fit of his pants, of the way he was starting to burn up. “I…Should we really do this here?” 

“Eh, the tree’s blocking the window and the door’s locked.” Reigen smiled. “What do you say, Katsuya?”

Serizawa nodded, hand framing Reigen’s cheek and traveling to pull him in by the hair for another kiss. Reigen smirked into his lips and yanked his belt undone with one hand and making quick work of lowering his pants. He pulled away for a moment to lower the band of Serizawa’s boxers enough to free his cock, watching hungrily as it bobbed up and down briefly before settling upright. 

“Something tells me you’re not gonna last long enough to go to the back room,” Reigen whispered. 

With that, Serizawa grabbed him by the collar and claimed his lips again, emboldened by the lack of reason to downplay how deeply his lust ran. He pushed Reigen down onto the couch and straddled his lap, kissing him on his mouth, jawline, then loosened his tie to teethe at the sensitive skin of his neck in a way he’d learned makes him moan. Their clothes half off, he paused to look up as Reigen’s nostrils flared in irritation. They’d already adopted a pink hue. 

“Why don’t you tell me what you want?” Reigen asked coyly, his hand wrapping around his shaft and lightly stroking it. They were impatiently half dressed and dripping. “I wanna hear you say it, Katsuya.” He inadvertently left no room for him to answer as he sniffled a little too sharply and immediately crumpled into a sneeze, squashing his nose against the back of his opposite wrist. “Hh’GTzSHhew!” 

“Fuck, bless you…” Serizawa breathed. He groaned as he leaned into Reigen’s hand, chasing any amount of friction.

“Oh, you really liked that,” Reigen purred through his congestion. He continued to mouth off, consonants rounded with congestion as if Serizawa needed more of a reminder of how desperately allergic he was. “Too bad we didn’t…heh-! h’eiSHhiew!- sndff! We didn’t finish decorating yet. I know you’ve been saying that we shouldn’t go onto the next project before finishing the first all week and all.” Hot pre rolled down to Reigen’s hand as he tightened his grip and jerked his cock, giving him only a small taste of bliss before teasingly letting go. 

Serizawa’s eyes rolled back as he groaned in arousal and figuring it would be faster than attempting to argue with Reigen even in this playful and intimate context quickly waved his hand and finished hanging the lights with his powers and then added the garland and ornaments for good measure. “There. Now there’s nothing in the way.”

“Look at that.” Reigen whistled. He hadn’t expected him to actually do that, and looked at him with awe and batted his eyes. “Wonder what we could do with all this extra time…” 

Serizawa leaned into Reigen’s ear and said in a hushed tone, “You’re driving me crazy. I want you to touch me more. And harder. And…” he trailed off, losing the courage to complete that sentence. 

“You’re driving me crazy too, baby.” Reigen guided Serizawa’s hand down to his lap to show just how much he is enjoying himself, before returning his attention to playing with Serizawa. He was overly sensitive, and every glide of Reigen’s hand kept him from being able to form a singular coherent thought. “You can tell me.”

“I want you to sneeze on me,” Serizawa admitted, managing to look him in the eyes. There was no trace of mockery in his expression, though there was some amusement.

“It’s funny, I was worried about doing that by accident before.” Reigen kissed him and lightly bit his lower lip, tugging it back a bit before releasing it and praising him. “Didn’t realize this would be such a turn on for you. I’m glad you told me. Kind of a win-win if you ask me.”

Serizawa let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slowly undid the buttons on Reigen’s shirt. He felt up his bare chest, noting how it was expanding unevenly and looked up to see his face scrunching up in irritation, wide eyes struggling against the reflex to flutter shut. “Let me see?”

“Are you hehh-! Are you sure?” He sniffled and scrunched up his nose to try to fend it off longer, determined to extend the anticipation as much as possible this time.

“Yeah...please,” he said, breathlessly bucking into Reigen’s hand. They’d only just started and he was inches away from finishing. His expression itself was enough to do him in. 

“hh-hhH-! I’m gonna snheeze-!” In a mix of compliance and an inability to hold himself back any further, Reigen sneezed uncovered, spray lightly misting over his exposed cock. “hH’EDSHhhew!” Serizawa moaned loudly, his cock twitching in Reigen’s tight grip. His vision blurred as he watched Reigen throw his head back, just long enough to gear up for another wrenching sneeze and give his cock another clench. “hdSHHhiew-! hehhH…hh-iHDSChhew!”

Serizawa made a guttural noise as he came harder than he’d ever come before and outright moaned in bliss at the skillful way Reigen leaned in and lapped up the molten liquid with his tongue. He was sure that even if he weren’t gripping him, he’d come anyway. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Arataka…” Serizawa said, as he slowly descended from that high. 

When he glanced down at the way Reigen was stroking him gently and milking out as many remaining waves of pleasure as possible, he noticed a few pink bumps on his hand and grabbed it to take it into his own for closer inspection. 

“You’re starting to break out in hives,” Serizawa murmured, kissing his wrist, noticing the way Reigen’s eyes widened, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. Serizawa thumbed it away gently, furrowed his brow in thought and added, “You’re allergic to the tree, aren’t you?”

For a moment, Reigen didn’t respond, his expression blank. He looked at the tree for a moment, then back at Serizawa and raised an eyebrow. “If I am, I guess I’ll have to keep it year-round, huh?”

“Arataka…” As horny as the thought made Serizawa, he managed to give him a look of disapproval. Reigen attempted to tug his hand back, breath hitching, but Serizawa didn’t release his hold, instead, pinning his hands down to the cushion and kissing him again. “Can I have you?”

“Yh-“ Reigen opened his mouth to respond but sneezed again instead. “ihH’SCxHHhew!” This time it was so obviously congested that Serizawa brought the box of tissues over and pulled some out for him. 

“Bless you.” Serizawa pushed up his hair and kissed the scar near his hairline. His nose was an irritated red with a pair of puffy eyes to match, sitting there a completely unabashed allergic mess.  

Reigen hid the lower half of his face behind the tissues and blew his nose. He was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, suit jacket discarded, tie haphazardly hung around his shoulders. When he pulled the tissue back there was still a sheen to the underside of his nose and down his philtrum. He coughed into his fist, his poor nostrils flaring from the force. 

“Was that too much?” Serizawa wrung his hands. “We should get you some antihistamines.” 

Reigen, to his surprise, chuckled. Even his laugh sounded dampened with congestion and he quickly had to grab another tissue to pinch off the threat of mess spilling out. “I’ve honestly never enjoyed having an allergy attack this much.” He rubbed Serizawa’s back tenderly. Reassuringly, he added, “I really like everything we’re doing and I’ll definitely take some later, but I’m good to keep going. I’ll…y'know, let you know if I need to stop.”

Serizawa hummed in suspicion. 

“Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kissed him softly and maneuvered down to attend to his cock, kissing him below his navel and up the base of his cock, smiling as he drew out a needy keen from Reign. After additional teasing, he began sucking him off and listening to the moans and expletives spilling freely from his mouth. He was always so vocal during sex, and between that, his throbbing cock, the look of submission, hands in Serizawa’s hair, and the little sniffles in between, Serizawa had to fight to keep his own dick from respawning.

“You’re so fucking good baby.” He moaned as Serizawa took him in deeper, tongue gliding over his shaft. His lips were tight and his grip on Serizawa’s hair tightened. “Shit, Katsuya. Don’t stop. I’m getting really…huh…close.”

Serizawa hummed around his throbbing cock and sped up, tightening his lips until Reigen gasped and yanked his hair and thrusted into his mouth, sweet and thick cum spilling down his throat as he huskily groaned his name and swore out a string of curses that barely made sense. God, he loved him. 

“I love you too,” Serizawa responded, sporting a surprised but genuinely happy smile. Evidently, Reigen hadn’t meant to say that aloud, because he went red like a tomato.

“Well…I was gonna buy some mistletoe and set the mood better before saying that,” Reigen mumbled under his breath, panting as he returned to earth. “I guess this works, though.”

Serizawa pulled Reigen in close and kissed him again, more tenderly this time. Reigen returned it quickly, hands roaming over Serizawa’s back as if he couldn’t get close enough, so it was surprising when he randomly pulled away when their tongues had just started touching.

“hKNdTCH!” He stifled a sneeze into Serizawa’s neck. 

“Bless you.” Serizawa kissed the crown of his head and fixed Reigen’s suit jacket. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

[ohgodimafraud]

first postttttttt

hc that inumaki always tries to make his sneezes as quiet as possible to minimise the effect of his ct

this is my first time drawing snz and this angle 😓😓😓

[ohgodimafraud]

would I be crazy for saying this made me feel some type of way,

[ohgodimafraud]

self obs

sitting in the parked car trying to be like ok u can get thru this day. chillin. feel the snz feeling. I’m like oh ok I’m alone. Guy stops at stop sign as it’s happening and I’m like oh ok STEALTH MODE ACTIVATED but I forgot he can see me not hear me and then it was literally completely silent but he made eye contact w me so fml.

[ohgodimafraud]

ok yknow how mr w/orldwide just like makes whatever music he wants like literally remixed a/frica. doesnt gaf if he flops. label flop but p!t wont drop. like? thats how i feel w snzfics i wanna have like his vast discography but w this fetish writing

[ohgodimafraud]

accidentally knocked my s/tonemill pepper container over and it exploded nothing relevant happened but still

[ohgodimafraud]

yeah

[ohgodimafraud]

still training?? in your condition???

2 hr. rough sketch animation | ju//jutsu ka//isen

!!! do not repost to non snz blogs !!! pls&ty

[ohgodimafraud]

auhgssufhgh... g- g/ojo... allergic.... im begging.... anything i mean anything of this man just wrecked and itchy and him hello hi aggufh him

totally only if you want to though!!! and if u want more specifics I could maybe figure something out, but i'd honestly just lose it for anything with Him <3 augghuhg him

hihi !! it's only been *checks watch* one billion business years since I asked for requests and then absconded like a criminal!!!!! but I return bearing gifts!!!! have an allergic gojo!!!!

[ohgodimafraud]

playing chicken

t/rigun, 2.5 k, wolfwood allergy this was in my drafts for like a whole year unfinished so i decided to finish it allergies, voyeurism, putting our boy vash thru it yk yk, two povs

Crabby is not a word Wolfwood would ever assign to the other man, but even the font of incessant tolerance had its limits. Sure, Vash wears his irritation a hell of a lot different than anyone else Wolfwood has ever seen. He still shoulders it all unto himself in that infuriating, self-annihilating way he's so fond of doing with everything else. Like he doesn't want to inconvenience anyone with his fucking feelings. Wolfwood's fond of lashing out when he feels like shit. It at least clears out the cobwebs. But Vash seems incapable of doing so. Ever since they'd left the town, he's been uncharacteristically somber. A classic case of bottled up emotion in a bright red jacket.

Things had not gone especially well in the place they'd last holed up. It wasn't Vash's fault, but the guy was letting the guilt eat away at him anyway. And if Wolfwood knew him well enough--which he surely did by now--there was an undercurrent of anger running through that guilt as well. Vash couldn't stand a bully, and they'd had to cut and run before dealing with the one who'd started all their problems back there. Wasn't Wolfwood's choice either. It had been a matter of keeping everyone alive and expediency.

Which is why they're now sitting atop a fucking Thomas instead of riding comfortably in the back of the jeep.

Vash assured him the next town was only a day's ride through the desert and that they'd meet back up with Roberto and Meryl there. But Wolfwood fucking hates this thing. The bone-deep jostle of its gait is disorienting as all hell and his thighs are already cramping from their position locked around the saddle. He's also pressed up against Vash which, ordinarily he wouldn't balk at the idea of, but the desert is hot and even just having one arm draped around Vash's middle invites heat that makes his head swim. With his chest pressed against the other man's shoulder-blades, he's almost certain he's sweating through both his jacket and Vash's combined but doesn't really care enough to apologize for it. It's Vash's face that got them into this mess. If he's bothered by the sweat, tough luck.

There is, in fact, another aspect of this method of transportation that's bothering him. And it was one he's rapidly running out of solutions for. He's not exactly accustomed to riding these things. So twenty minutes ago, when his sinuses had started to buzz, he assumed it was just on account of all the sand being kicked up. But the longer the tickle persisted, and the farther back into his throat it crawled, it became obvious. This isn't just some mild irritation. He's allergic to the stupid animal.

In most cases, when he felt like he had to sneeze like this, he'd just as soon get it over with. Holding it in always makes it worse and gives him a headache besides. But Vash is in a mood, and given how rare that is, Wolfwood thinks it might be best to just let him sulk for a bit in peace. Maybe he doesn't want to know what Stampede might do if he really snapped.

With his freehand that isn'tt wrapped around Vash's torso, he palms at his nose. As if beckoned, the buzzing way back in his sinuses surges to the forefront of his face and blooms out from the center. Shit, he's going to--

He wrenchs his head to the side, turning his palm to cover his mouth too.

"H'EEdsZhchu!"

Vash actually jumps. Wolfwood feels it because he'd grabbed at his middle a little harder while lurching into the sneeze, mostly so he didn't topple off the damn bird in the process. The iron feeling of muscle in the man's abdomen ripples under his fingers as Vash settles.

"Bless you!" he says, still clearly surprised.

"Sorry," Wolfwood sniffs, "Snuck up on me."

"I-it's okay."

They go back to silence. Wolfwood blinks irritated tears from his eyes and swallows back a groan. All right, not his best work. But one sneeze isn't terrible. If he can just control himself from here on out, he's got a shot.

But already, he can feel another one mounting. He pinches his nostrils shut and massages his fingers up and down the length of his nose in earnest. Fuck. He really needs both hands for this, one to massage the space beneath his eyes to alleviate the prickling and one to scrub his nose raw. His breath catches. He clenches his entire fist around his nose, hearing the squelch of wetness, and stifles as best he can.

"Hnnt!"

Those never satisfy though, and in the space of a second he needs another. "Hh-hhngt!"

They're quiet enough that he might have gotten away with it on volume alone, but what he can't control is the way his body jerks against Vash. Each sneeze makes him tighten his grip around the other man for a brief instant and knocks his chest against his shoulders.

But some of that can be blamed on the bumpiness of the bird's stride, he supposes. He pops open a bleary eye, hand still clenched around his nose, and waits for Vash to say something.

He doesn't.

Smug, Wolfwood lowers his hand and gives a delicate sniff. It's a mistake. Shit. Eyes cinching shut, he actually gasps this time, that's how strong it comes on.

He grabs onto Vash's shoulder with his freehand this time just out of instinct and sneezes violently down into his own lap. "AAAEESCZ'scHHUh!"

"Bless you, Wolfwood."

He lowers his head further, pressing the crown of it into Vash's spine. His lips curl back and his nostrils flare as another takes ahold of him.

"DZZYIsshue!" His hand flexes against Vash's shoulder and the other one along his abdomen retracts slightly, almost apologetically.

"Fuck," he says, still not lifting his head.

"Bless you," Vash says, and the Tomas dips to the left a bit before straightening back out. Wolfwood notes this as he picks his head up and watches the scenery smooth out in front of them. Huh, weird. Granted, it's probably not easy to steer an animal while you've got someone sneezing in your ear every few seconds. Wolfwood knows he hasn't got the quietest sneeze either, and he's already spooked Vash once. "Sorry," he mutters again, "I'll try to give ya some warning next time." Vash's voice sounds a touch higher than normal when he speaks, "It's fine. You okay?" "M'good. Think I'm just allergic to this fuckin' thing." Wolfwood adjusts in the saddle again and releases Vash's shoulder. Sniffling, he wraps his arm back around his torso, his fingers straying at his opposite hip. Secure once more, he turns his head to the desert and squints out at the sun. "To the Thomas?" He's surprised Vash is actually talking to him. The ride has been so uncharacteristically quiet this whole time, it's kind of a relief to hear him engage. Normally he can't get this kid to shut up. "Yeah," Wolfwood sniffs heartily again and mashes his nose with the base of his palm, "I guess." Vash sags slightly, "I'm sorry, Wolfwood. I didn't--" There he goes again. Where does he put all that misplaced guilt anyway? Wolfwood clicks his tongue. "Tch, don't beat yourself up about it, Blondie. I didn't even know, how are yhhh-hhhold on--" He knuckles at his nose in vain, words spilling out in a rush before the sneeze steam rolls them completely, "I'm ghhonna sneeze ah-aghain--ih'eyzSSCh'uh!" He grips Vash tighter and turns his head as far as he can from him, angling the spray nearly over his own shoulder as another sneeze follows on the first's tail. "ISSHYYAh!" This time, the Thomas dips to the left, hard. Wolfwood yelps and snaps back against Vash as the blonde rights the animal. Wolfwood's hands clasp at Vash's stomach to keep himself from flying off the side. "Steer the damn bird!" he snaps, an errant liquid sniff interrupting his scolding, "The hell's wrong with you?" "Sorry!" Vash squeaks. "I fuckin' warned you that time, didn't I?" Wolfwood huffs. He frees an arm from around Vash to press his sleeve up against his still twitching nostrils. Vash doesn't respond. Hmm, back to being moody then? Fine.

--

Vash, for his part, is barely holding it together.

It's not like he hasn't heard Wolfwood sneeze before. But there's a big difference between hearing it and experiencing it. His fingers white knuckle around the reigns of the Thomas as he tries to focus on anything but the wet sniffling behind him coupled with the feeling of Wolfwood's thighs locked around him. This is torture. And he's not doing a very good job of hiding how it's effecting him either. Namely because he can't figure out how to steer and be debilitatingly horny at the same time. Now, he's pretty sure he's pissed Wolfwood off --or at the very least, alerted him to the fact that there's something else going on. If he would just stop sneezing, Vash could get ahold of himself. But it seems like that's not in the cards for him. Wolfwood doesn't warn him this time. Either because he's being petty, or because he simply doesn't get enough of a warning himself. A sharp inhale whistles in his ear before Wolfwood's body rocks against his and his arm tightens around Vash's middle like a vice, "h'RRSCHH'uh!" Vash closes his eyes. He can't help it. All he can do is picture Wolfwood's snarled expression, the dampness of his long eyelashes, the way his nostrils are probably flaring-- "hh'aEESCHH'yue!" Wolfwood's forehead actually knocks against his spine with that one. Vash suppresses a moan and realizes his eyes have been closed for a few seconds too long. The Thomas is going off on its own again without a guide, and once more, he has to course correct with a quick jerk to the side. "Alright, what the fuck?!" Wolfwood's slightly congested-sounding outcry makes Vash grimace. "You really gettin' spooked every time I sneeze?" Wolfwood asks incredulously, "You want me to drive?" Vash felt him adjusting behind him. His arm dips low as he scoots up on the seat and Vash doesn't have time to stop what happens next. Wolfwood's forearm brushes against Vash's indisputable erection. Wolfwood freezes. Vash freezes. The Thomas continues on, unbothered. "Huh," is all Wolfwood says. Vash feels heat building in his chest and flushing over his throat and cheeks. He's sure he's as red as his jacket now. "Wolfwood I--" "Question for you, Blondie." He swallows, "Yes?" "Is that frhh--fuuck hh'nnGXT!" He cuts himself off mid sentence, smothering a sneeze into what sounds like his fist, and then another, "hh'hndHHDT! Shit, sorry." Vash bites his lip and is unable to stop the full body shiver from cracking over his scalp and racing down his spine. Wolfwood offers a low chuckle in response. "Nevermind. Question answered." "I'm sorry," Vash says reflexively, "It's--" "Shut up." Wolfwood's hand slips along his chest, fingers splayed out over his sternum suddenly. His other drifts along the strained fabric of Vash's pants. Vash whimpers. "This really does it for you?" Wolfwood asks, sniffling. He almost sounds impressed. Vash nods helplessly. Wolfwood hums. "Cute."

He brushes the tip of his nose at the nape of Vash's neck and gives another soft sniff that nearly undoes the man on the spot. He palms Vash through his pants. Vash gives a keening, desperate whine. "Kind of fucked up if we do this on the Thomas though, right?" he asks, and Vash can hear the shit-eating grin. Vash looks blearily out ahead. It's desert for as long as he can see, but there is a few outcroppings of sand-smoothed boulders half a mile off. They'd probably give them enough shade to take just a little break. "We could try there," Vash says and points with a trembling finger. "Think you can make it? You seem pretty worked up already." That too, is said with a teasing, vicious grin, even though Vash can't see it. "Yes," Vash huffs, though he's actually less certain than he sounds. Especially because Wolfwood is sniffling with more urgency behind him all of a sudden and his hands have stilled where they were previously touching him. Wolfwood is pressed so close he can feel the swell of his ribcage as he inhales this time. He doesn't bother turning fully away now either, pressing his cheek against Vash's shoulder as the urge crests. "hh'uuRRSSCh'ue!" Wolfwood's thighs clamp around him with the effort and he rocks both of them forward. A gasp and then-- "hh! hh'DZYYsCH'ieU!" Vash urges the Thomas forward, beelining for the rocks. Wolfwood's hand curiously explores his throbbing erection as he snuffles back to clarity. His voice mumbles against him, "Can't believe this is really getting you off." Wolfwood itches his nose against his shoulder blade which makes Vash see stars. "Was tryin' to hh'iiESSCH! --hold them in earlier, thought you were hh'd'AEzsch! still pissed." "You weren't doing a very good job." Wolfwood barks a laugh. He sniffles and kisses a line up the back of Vash's neck. Vash can feel the sweat of his upper lip against his skin and shudders. "Can't help it," he mutters through his slow, methodical kisses. He reaches up with the free hand not latched around Vash to angle his head slightly and allow him more purchase to the skin behind his ear. The soft suction of air surprises both of them. He feels Wolfwood flinch with a sudden, uncharacteristically soft, "hh'jjdsiiSCh'ue!" that flashes wet against his neck. Wolfwood reels back. "Ah fuck, s-sorry Blhh h'djjdisCHH! 'iitsdshCH!" Vash feels him lean from the seat as the smaller, fittish sneezes seem to finally coalesce into a proper Wolfwood expulsion. "hahh'AESCZ'scHH'Uh!" It scrapes up out of the depths of him and all but throws him against Vash's back. Vash does moan this time, but Wolfwood's too busy recovering to hear it. "Phew!" he groans, sitting back up, "Sorry, I didn't mean to get ya. Unless you like that sort of thing?" Vash is too busy trying not to make a mess of himself to answer. It's a Herculean effort at this point. He just gives a tight nod and begs the Thomas to move faster. The boulders are close now. "Ha! You're a real piece of work," he muses and then snickers, "C'mon, Vash, keep it together." Wolfwood rubs roughly at his neck with the heel of his fist, as if clearing away any errant remnants of having been sneezed on. Vash might have told him not to bother if he'd trusted his own voice. There's an almost tender aspect to Wolfwood's voice as he settles back against him. His hand smooths against Vash's chest rhythmically. It feels grounding. It's just enough to pull Vash back rom the edge. "Almost there, Blondie," Wolfwood promises, "I'll try to control myself."