A little something while I work on commissions! Iris encountering a cat! To everyone sending asks with specific requests, I would do some but if I don’t reach yours you are more than welcome to commission me! Thank you so much for the support!
Two kinksters showering together. One, who's sensitive to a certain body wash, lathers it in copious amounts, then turns so they can grind back on their partner as they begin to hitch and hitch. Partner wastes no time letting the suds and water help their hands glide everywhere over their SO's body, drinking in their gasps and shudders, creating a few of their own when they gently pinch their partner's nipples through the tickly sneezes...
It’s really funny that I’ve had a sneezing fetish my entire life but I still sometimes think “wait wtf why do get off to sneezing” like you’d think that since it’s literally all ever known that the shock value would wear off but know it still gets me
There is less snz in this, but more worry/fluff/caretaking/h/c.
**DO NOT REBLOG/INTERACT IF NOT SNZ BLOG OR MINOR THX
Here is- Fever Fighter
For the past three days, Grace had been powering through one of her stress-induced colds she knew all too well. Her voice tinged with rasp and congestion. Her pockets lined with tissues, she had managed to keep the sneezes at bay from meeting to meeting. People believed her when she insisted she was fine. Maybe she had finally found a way to be unstoppable.
That is, until she woke up the next morning. It all seemed to hit her the moment her legs swung out of bed. Her throat burned raw. Her nose somehow was both blocked and dripping. Her limbs felt heavy, and she felt a steady and merciless pulse in her head.
“hh’nkTCHhhuuhhh!”
Grace sneezed painfully. Her hand was held to her face to contain the mess as a painful coughing fit followed. She trudged to the restroom to clean up.
With washed hands she attempted to clear some congestion from her already red nose. All it did was shake more sneezes loose.
Grace winced as the last sneeze tore through her aching throat. It took a lot for Grace Carter to surrender to her body. She’d power through deadlines with bleary eyes. She could lead presentations through sore throats. She once typed a report in a mask lined with tissues so she could be hands free while her nose dripped.
But this morning, standing in front of the mirror looking almost as terrible as she felt, she knew the limit. And for once, she chose to call in to work.
There was a pit in her stomach as the phone rang. She could list on one hand all the times she has called in to work throughout her adulthood.
“Hey Carter, what’s up,” her manager Victoria answered cheerfully.
“Hey, I’mb ndot feeling well. I wod’t make it indto the office today. I’ll try to…eh…to..I’mb sorry I’b gonda…hh’ngxst! heh’ngxt! hehESHIEEW! I’mb so sorry that was so gross. I mbeant to say I’ll do as much as I cand from hobe.”
“Is the mighty Grace Carter calling in? Honestly, I’m proud of you! We have all noticed you’ve been under the weather the last couple days. Get tested for flu and send me the doctor’s note. Other than that, don’t you dare touch your computer. Rest.”
“Ok. I’mb really sorry”
“Don’t be sorry! Get better!”
——
Armed with a positive flu diagnosis and a bagful of drugstore medicine, Grace looked at her bed longingly.
“No, Carter” she told herself. Though she was ill, she was still Grace. She had to set herself up for success.
On her bedside table, Grace lined up daytime and nighttime medicine beside an unopened water bottle. A fresh tissue box and small waste basket sat within reach. Her phone and charger were tucked in the drawer. She was officially prepared for a sick day.
Just then, Colin text her-
Clarke❤️: Please confirm FRIENDS NITE at T-STROKE with PICK UP @ 6PM. Reply YES to confirm. Reply NO to disappoint🤪
Grace completely forgot about going out with Colin and his friends tonight. The thought of letting him down, mixed with flu, put tears in her eyes. But there was no way she could hold a putter steady or keep up a smile. Not like this. But she didn’t want to hold him back.
Grace Ivy💚: NO
Grace Ivy💚: I’m not feeling well. You go for both of us!
Grace’s sigh turned into a harsh cough. With cancelled plans, she finally allowed herself to lay down, falling asleep almost instantly.
——
Colin stared at Grace’s text, his thumb hovering over the keyboard.
She wasn’t feeling well, which for a normal person would mean a nagging headache or a bad day. But from Grace? That was her holding a white flag of surrender. If she was putting it in writing, it had to be bad.
Colin knew that Grace was still Grace. She wouldn’t hear of him missing out because of her. Even if he wanted to. He quickly responded-
Colin: Ok. I’ll go until it’s lame and then come check on you.
He decided to keep his ringer on full volume all night. Just in case.
——
Colin tried to enjoy himself. He really did.
The flood lights of the mini golf course lit up his friends faces as they drank and heckled each other.
“Maybe hit it with your purse next time,” his coworker Jasmine teased when Colin’s ball hit the water.
Colin gave a half hearted laugh. He hardly cared as he kept reaching for his phone.
Grace Ivy💚: I’m not feeling well. You go for the both of us!
Grace had never canceled on him. It wasn’t like her to go down without a fight.
Why hadn’t she responded to his last few texts?
Colin: How’s my favorite sickie doing?
Colin: Do you need anything? Gatorade? Soup? More tissues?
Colin: You sure you’re ok?
“Clarke! You’re up!” Harrison called.
Colin lined up his putter to the ball and stared at the green. He swung. He missed. He swung again. It went past the hole and onto the green of the next hole.
“Wow,” Harrison said with a whistle, “You good, man?”
Colin shrugged. Worry was welling up inside him. What if Grace fell asleep in the bathtub? He did that once and nearly drowned. What if she needed something but was too stubborn to ask? He knew how hard she worked to be in control even when the sky was falling around her.
“Seriously Clarke, you ok?” Harrison asked with a hand on Colin’s shoulder.
“Think I’m gonna bail,” Colin said to their group, “Grace isn’t feeling great and I wanna check on her.”
“Tell her we missed her,” Jasmine smiled sympathetically. A few gave understanding nods.
One friend teased, “Whipped already, Clarke?”
Colin didn’t answer. He was already mid run to his car. He dialed her number before the engine roared.
It rang. Voicemail.
——
Colin parked crooked in front of her building, nearly forgetting to lock his car.
She had given him a key a few weeks back “for emergencies”. This definitely counted.
With a quiet click the door gave way. There were no lights on. It was almost completely silent, save for the soft noise coming from the bedroom.
“Grace?” Colin called meekly approaching the bedroom.
No answer.
There she was, curled and twisted in the duvet. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her brow furrowed. Her body jerked with a gasp of air.
Colin’s heart dropped.
“Grace, baby,” he whispered and stroked her damp curls, “Hey, hey. It’s ok. It’s just a dream.”
She flinched at his voice, her glassy brown eyes fluttered open.
He met her brown glossed gaze with his concerned blue eyes. How was she still so beautiful when her body had betrayed her?
“Colin,” she croaked. She had been asleep for hours. The sneezes in her nose had been waiting. It felt like it took all her energy to turn away from Colin.
“Bless you,” Colin placed a wad of tissues in her hand. He could see from her twitching nose that she wasn’t finished.
“HehMPHF! NGXSchiew!”
Grace sneezed muffled into the tissues. She tried her best to clear her nose, which led to a raspy coughing fit.
“Easy easy,” Colin rubbed her back and handed her a water bottle, “you’re going to explode.”
“I have the flu not combustion,” Grace said plainly, “Why are you here?”
“You ghosted me all night and you’re clearly running a fever,” Colin teased gently, brushing a curl from her forehead.
She let out a weak huff of a laugh.
“I didn’t want to ruin your night.”
“You’re so sweet,” he said smiling as he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, “And very much burning alive.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she mumbled, swatting him away.
“No way, sickie! When was the last time you checked your temperature? And staring at the thermometer from the end table doesn’t count.”
She didn’t respond. Her silence told him everything.
“That’s what I thought,” he said triumphantly, grabbing the thermometer from the drawer, “Open up, Carter.”
To Colin’s surprise, she didn’t fight him. Colin got a wet wash cloth and a cold water bottle from the kitchen. When he came back in the room, the thermometer beeped.
“102.8,” Colin stated, “I diagnose that you’re dying. I’m not leaving until the diagnosis changes!”
“You really don’t have to,” Grace whispered, suddenly small, “I don’t want you to catch this. I’ll be fine.”
“I know,” he put his hand on the side of her face, “I know you would be fine alone. But you don’t have to be. I want to be here for you.”
“And what will you do when I get you sick?” Grace asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I’ll watch movies all day and complain minimally,” Colin retorted, climbing into bed with her.
She put her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Despite her congestion, it felt easier to breathe from here.
“No more fighting,” Colin whispered as she felt sleep pull at her, “I got you.”
Sooo I did a thing... snzblr let me know if i should keep doing it, it was kinda fun.
(contains: sneezing ofc, one unintentional stifle, a rare double snz, my weird wheezy hitching, a singular swear word, and blowing my nose into my shirt twice)
Mess pic of my shirt below the cut for you freaks (im also a freak)
I was painting alone at a studio and was sat next to this young adult couple. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop since I had no headphones and they seemed to be newly dating. This part of their conversation made my eyes go😳
A: Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.
B: Me too. I have a really crappy immune system.
A: I do too, actually. So when you get sick I’ll probably get sick too.
B: Oh (their voice goes downward)
A: That’s ok though! We could take care of each other.
I’m sorry what? WHAT?! Contagion and caretaking pls I cannot
I have this WIP w/my OCs where allergic OC is set off by homemade laundry detergent hehehe. On the other hand, atm I’m more inspired by my sickie OC having a fever w less sneeze. Maybe more caretaking. Maybe some contagion. Idkkkk
Got stuck with the fic I was working on and decided to pour some creative juice into a drabble. Naturally, here we are a couple of hours later with 2k+ words of... *gestures towards post* this. 🙄😂
[cw: a little bit of mess, also some complicated emotional relationship to a late parent mentioned]
***
Grabbing a tissue from the third box she’d opened since her shift started last night, Dr Savannah Thompson sneezed several times, harsh, tired, explosive sneezes that were impossible to control. The sneeze attack seamlessly turned into a tickly coughing fit; her throat itched so much it was impossible to fight it back.
She wrapped up the coughing fit with another violent sneeze attack, then she just sat there at her desk, tissue still held to her face, nose quietly dripping into the Kleenex.
Good thing these tissues are on the hospital’s bill, she thought with a sprinkle of dark humour, otherwise I’d probably be financially ruined before hayfever season is over.
To be fair, this had turned out to be an exceptionally bad spring for her allergies. The pollen count was soaring, the weather unusually dry, warm, and windy. This was Seattle, for crying out loud, where was all the rain?
At least there's just half an hour left before I can go home, take a shower, take some antihistamines, and pass out for a few hours.
This spring routine could hardly be much fun for Linda, who had a day off today. Savannah felt like she'd spent most of their time together the past few weeks in unconscious (sleep) or semi-conscious (hayfevery haze) state, but Linda was understanding, always loving her no matter how boring or repulsive she was.
The redhead sighed – more liquid bubbled out of her irritated nostrils when she did, but the tissue was still at the ready capturing what came out – and closed her eyes. Her poor nose was burning. She hadn’t even ventured outside since her shift started at seven last night, but somehow, even in here, pollen got to her. And it got to her bad. She was so itchy, so drippy, so desperate to sneeze out the irritation, yet at the same time so tired of sneezing. She hadn’t seen her face in a mirror since she went to the bathroom last, which was hours ago, but by then, most if not all lingering makeup had been rubbed off, and her nose was almost glowing red in her otherwise pale face. There was no reason to expect it to have improved. Not after all the times she had rubbed and pinched it, all the times she had blown into tissue after tissue, all the times she had sneezed.
Why me? she thought in an uncharacteristically gloomy manner. Why does this itchy, snot-dripping hell have to be my reality every bloody year? I love spring. Why is spring in turn so fixated on destroying me?
As always, in the few brief moments where she allowed herself some self-pity, she could almost hear her mother’s voice scolding her. She was certain it hadn’t been the intention; her mother hadn’t been a cruel woman, far from it. Yet, the older Dr Thompson hadn’t missed many opportunities to instil into her only daughter that she had a very privileged existence.
Oh quit whining, Savvie. Nature isn’t out to destroy you. Besides, it’s just a touch of hayfever, you’re hardly dying.
Gee, thanks mother.
She rolled her watery eyes, then had to laugh at herself. She'd turn forty-six this upcoming autumn, her mother had passed away almost twenty years earlier, and for some reason Savannah still used her voice to scold herself when she felt she wasn’t living up to her own (or was it still her family’s?) expectations.
She pressed the tissue harder against her damp nostrils, wiping more moisture off her skin, dropped the used tissue in the bin under her desk, took another tissue from the raided box and brought it up to her nose.
She was just about to blow when there was a knock on her door, immediately followed by her colleague, who clearly didn’t realise that the whole point with knocking was to wait for an answer before barging in, stepped inside.
“Oh,” he said when he saw what action he had just interrupted her in. "Sorry. Go on."
Savannah hated blowing her nose in front of an audience, but at this point she didn’t have much of a choice; her nose was streaming, and the audience had invited himself into this less-than-presentable display, so she just went ahead without apologising.
“You sound awful. Allergies?” he asked.
She shook her head, not to deny it - it was beyond denial - but to let him know that it wasn’t a topic she was willing to discuss. At least this hint was received.
“What can I do for you, Dr Wallace?” she asked, dropped this tissue into the bin with the others, and rubbed some hand sanitizer into her hands.
“A second opinion.”
“Okay, of what?”
“This,” he said and dropped a patient file on her desk. “I can’t make heads or tails of where to even begin.”
She put her glasses back on – they had been safely tucked away in the breast pocket of her labcoat while she was tending to her overactive nose – and flipped the file open.
“Oh, this is something else,” she said, shaking her head. “Can I keep this a couple of days?” she asked, gesturing to the file. “My shift ends in less than twenty minutes, and I’m going to need significantly more time to form an opinion.”
He threw his hands out.
“Please. Just don’t tell Reyes I asked for help. He’ll never let me live it down.”
She smiled.
“I can assure you, he too has a thing or two he’ll never live down.”
She put the file on the top of a pile.
“I’ll let you know what I can make of it.”
“Thanks, dr Thompson.”
He was just turning to leave, when the triple sneeze Savannah had so far managed to hold back suddenly barrelled out of her, barely captured in yet another hastily grabbed tissue. Her whole body shook from the force as well as from the attempt at keeping it quiet. An attempt that was very obviously unsuccessful.
“Bless you, doctor. You should probably see an allergist about that,” he said, but thankfully without turning back to look at her.
“I already did, but thanks for the suggestion,” Savannah sighed.
When the door to her office closed again, she took off her glasses and buried her face in both hands. God, she was exhausted. It felt like her entire head was filled with damp cotton wad and tiny needles, pricking relentlessly at sensitive, battered mucus membranes.
There was no way she’d squeeze in any more actual work in the fifteen minutes or so left of her shift, so she decided she could just as well go home right now.
***
Stepping outside, she realised why her symptoms were so exceptionally bad today, in a season that was already worse than usual. There was so much pollen in the air this morning, Savannah could swear she could taste it. Her hayfever reacted in turn, and her nose began to stream; a river of allergic misery running down her upper lip. It was thin as water, like tears, impossible to stem by sniffling, and she quickly pulled another tissue out of a pocket and pressed it hard against the faucet that posed as a nose.
“Bloody hell,” she said in a thick, raspy, choked voice, as the itch turned up a notch. Or several. Her eyes filled with burning tears, making it difficult to see. And even if she had been able to see clearly without a curtain of tears, her eyes were trying to close, as her body insisted that it needed to sneeze, again, right now.
Sneeze after wet, loud, itchy sneeze exploded into the soaked tissue, rendering it useless before she’d even reached her car.
She dropped the tissue on the ground. Nature would have to excuse her littering this once, but in all fairness it was nature’s fault she needed the tissue in the first place.
Because her hands were busy fumbling to get her car keys out of her purse, the next fit of sneezes were completely uncovered, spray floating in the air around her and some of it settling on the driver’s side window. If she hadn’t been so overcome by her hayfever she might have cried from exhaustion, frustration and embarrassment, but she was unable to do anything but sneeze and still try to find her keys.
Finally she got the keys out and unlocked the car, scrambled to get inside, and then just sat there, both hands cupped over her nose and mouth, sneezing repeatedly into them, unrestrained, full-bodied sneezes that felt like they should be relieving but somehow weren’t.
Hayfever… what the hell is this supposed to be good for? she thought as the fit began to taper off. Not because she didn’t still need to sneeze, but because her body was too drained of energy to keep doing it, at least with that level of... enthusiasm.
She remained in that parking space for quite some time before she felt confident enough that she’d be able to drive. And there were no speed limits exceeded that day.
***
When she got home, she went to take a shower right away. It may have been a good idea to take her meds first so they’d kick in by the time she got out of the shower, but given how exhausted she already was, she didn’t dare. If she dozed off in the shower, or just got too relaxed, she could end up slipping and adding injury to this pollen-induced insult.
The steam loosened the congestion that was still thick and abundant in her sinuses. How congestion of that calibre was even possible when her nose had been running like a waterfall all morning was beyond her, but finally she could breathe again. She was still sneezing, but now they came in singles, with long, suffering pauses between, drawn-out, throaty, harsh sneezes that made her throat feel like it was on fire. Even the roof of her mouth, even her ears itched. It was bad.
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her, another around her hair, and went out of the steamy bathroom.
Linda stood in the hallway, bleary-eyed, face puffy with sleep, yawning.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Savannah said, realising that she almost had nothing left in terms of voice and fell silent. She felt awful. Awful for herself, and awful that she had woken Linda, who also had worked all week.
“Nah, I woke up because I needed to use the bathroom,” Linda replied. Her voice sounded nearly as hoarse as Savannah’s, but in her case it was from sleep.
“I don’t quite believe you,” Savannah whispered.
Linda smiled and placed a soft kiss on Savannah’s cheek as she walked past her.
“It doesn’t matter what woke me up; I still needed to use the bathroom,” she said. Her hand brushed against Savannah’s arm, a touch so gentle and full of love that the doctor wanted to purr.
“Oh, by the way… I put a water bottle and your prescription meds on your bedside table in case you weren’t doing too well this morning. Take them. Okay? Not that lighter stuff that barely makes a dent. You sound so miserable, and we can stay in bed all day if we want to.”
She closed the bathroom door before Savannah could respond, and Savannah went into their bedroom. Sure enough, her meds and the water bottle sat there on the nightstand, next to her glasses case.
She took the biggest dose she dared take, then drank half of the water bottle. She hadn’t even realised how thirsty she was. The water was cool and smooth sliding down her sore throat, a small but welcome relief.
She found that she was too tired to stand up again and walk over to the wardrobe and take out underwear and sleepwear, so she simply tossed the towels on the floor, not even bothering to hang them up, and crawled into bed fully naked.
Linda had apparently changed the bedsheets last night, and the soft, cool Egyptian cotton felt like a caress against her sensitive skin. Everything was hypersensitive right now, and somehow Linda seemed to have known she’d be in this state this morning.
It wasn’t a difficult prediction to make, given the pollen count and weather, but Linda didn’t just predict how Savannah would feel, she also wanted to make her feel better. Still, years into this relationship, that soft care made her tear up a little. How had she gotten so lucky? In a grand scheme of things, hayfever was a small price to pay for this happiness.
She heard Linda go downstairs and wondered why, but by now she was getting too dizzy to even raise her head from the pillow. She still felt itchy, but the sensation was dulled by the meds and sleepiness.
She had almost dozed off when Linda came back upstairs and got into bed.
“Whadjado?” Savannah mumbled. She was too tired to articulate her words, but Linda knew her well enough to understand anyway.
“Just went to feed the cat, so he won’t decide to serenade us with his latest instalment of ‘Poor Starving Kitty’s Lament’ just as we fall asleep.”
“Mmff…”
“Mmff right back at you, babycakes,” Linda chuckled and pulled Savannah into her arms, spooning her. “Sleep tight. I love you, Annie.”
“Luvyatoo,” came the near-unconscious reply as the surgeon finally allowed herself to sink deeper into the rest her body had craved for many hours now.
Linda held her, and on some level Savannah was still aware of it, subconsciously relishing in the feeling of being completely safe, entirely loved and cared for.
Allowing herself to be loved was the greatest accomplishment of her life. And to love someone in return, well, that was the sweetest reward.
turnnoffyourmind
titsay
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jacobvanloon
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