achoo, I guess

OC stuff!

robot sneeze - cold (kinda); a spaceship's AI pilot seeks some attention

A Rather Odd Request - allergies; a gentleman with the fetish and his indulgent sneezy partner go at it

knight with a cold - cold; a prince notices his loyal knight and best friend is under the weather

pirate fic - cold x2, nsfw; genderweird pirates share a cold and have lesbian sex

snztober '25 day 5 - cold; Francis has a cold and Lavender wants to catch it

snztober '25 day 10 - allergies, nsfw; Daphne and Laurel sex pollen fic

snztober '25 day 20 - inducing & chhinkni, nsfw; Lavender uses Francis as a human tissue

Fanfic!

Henry V fic - cold; I'm gonna be real this one's mostly a character study of S/hakespeare's Henry V. he sneezes though

Drabbles/one-off fics!

prompts DIZ - a sailor experiences a pepper-related incident

elf allergies - allergies; so there was this post about elves having overactive immune systems,

snztober '25 day 11 - nsfw; a robot plays with its newly-installed sneezing function

She reached Prince Charles and offered him her hands. He held her nearly at an arm’s length as his father stood behind them and began to speak—on and on about love and peace and holy matrimony. Mathilde didn’t listen, just looked at her hands in Charles’. Hers were rougher than a princess’s ought to be, calloused from practicing with a sword. Charles’ were softer, and he was sweating. Was he nervous? As if being married would change much of his life.

And a noise from the crowd—“hh-hHANG’tch!!”

A sneeze, badly stifled. Mathilde kept staring at her hands, grateful that a bit of a blush would be pretty on her for her wedding. Maybe she was just pent up from her travels, but that sneeze…

“hhUHG’ntchu!!”

Mathilde dared to glance into the crowd where the sound was coming from. And in the front row, holding a bouquet of white lilies, was a broad-shouldered, muscular woman with a barely-tamed head of honey blond hair, pawing at her reddening nose with a decorative pocket square.

As Mathilde watched, the woman’s eyebrows came together with a desperate expression, her jaw going slack and nostrils flaring as she fought visibly with another sneeze. Mathilde forced her gaze away, back to her hands, just as—“huHG’TChhuh!”

A third strangled sneeze so utterly desperate Mathilde couldn’t help but want to hear how it sounded when she let go. She glanced again at the other woman, finding her flushed pink and murmuring something to her neighbors. Apologies, maybe—fuck, that was hot. Hopefully this lady was no one important, so Mathilde could invite her for a quick fuck after the wedding.

She pulled her gaze up to meet her groom’s as the king’s lengthy speech came to an end. On a cue she couldn’t see, he moved in to kiss her and the crowd erupted into cheers. She shut her eyes and endured as quick a kiss as they could get away with, closed-mouth and dispassionate. And then she was married.

Charles didn’t let go of her hands. “I have a gift for you,” he said once the crowd had died down. He nodded to someone in the crowd, and Mathilde followed his gaze to the red-nosed woman with the flowers.

She swallowed down the heat in her belly as the other woman bounded to join them. The flowers? A royal wedding gift, and Charles had only brought her a bouquet?

Sure enough, the stranger handed the lilies to Mathilde, who accepted them stony-faced.

“I didn’t want you to be all alone in a strange court,” Charles began, and Mathilde hid her scowl under the guise of smelling the flowers. “Mathilde, this is Sir Ingrid. She is one of my best knights, and I’ve assigned her to attend you for as long as you should desire.”

Mathilde couldn’t stop her face from flushing, but she could keep it stony as Sir Ingrid dropped to her knees before her. A personal knight, with a sneeze like that…and she couldn’t miss that she was a sir.

She reached down and took Sir Ingrid by the chin, tilting her face up to meet her eyes. Ingrid’s were wide, dark brown, and a bit rimmed with pink. The knight smiled back, affable, as if she didn’t notice Mathilde was glaring daggers at her.

Then she sniffled and drew back from the touch. “Ah—p-pardon me, Lady, I—hh! hEGT’CHHw!—oh, excuse me!”

“Bless you,” Mathilde said coldly, arousal warring in her with disgust over Lady. That, though, could be…corrected. In private. “And thank you, Your Highness.”

“hAEP’PTCShh!!” God, the incompetent stifles were only getting sloppier, Sir Ingrid’s cheeks reddening almost as fast as her nose. “I’m s-sorry, I—hh!—I wasn’t ssshhick this morning; I dhh—! I dohhn’t—! hHAH—!”

“Enough,” Mathilde snapped as Sir Ingrid poorly stifled another sneeze into her sodden handkerchief. “Sit down, Sir.” She couldn’t take much more than this without blushing far more than would be dismissable.

Sir Ingrid looked like she’d been kicked, but she nodded and returned to her seat. Mathilde sucked in a breath and bravely did not let her eyes follow Ingrid.

— —

The rest of the ceremony passed without incident. With the lilies in Mathilde’s hands instead of Ingrid’s, the sneezing died out and her nose returned almost to its regular hue.

That was, until the ride back to Charles' castle. Mathilde was again given a carriage despite her insistence she could handle herself on a horse now that she was out of her wedding dress. Prince Charles instructed Sir Ingrid to ride with her so that they could “make each other’s acquaintance.”

Mathilde tossed the bouquet beside her on the carriage bench and Sir Ingrid took a seat across from her, smiling widely. The first few minutes revealed soon enough that the woman was oblivious to both Mathilde’s cold shoulder and her own allergic response.

After the first trio of sneezes mangled into the same scratchy scrap of fabric Ingrid had clung to during the wedding, Mathilde snapped, “You may as well let them out.”

Ingrid scrubbed the ruined handkerchief under her nose. “I don’t want to be impolite, my lady.”

“Your lord,” Mathilde said. “And you’re hardly quiet enough to be polite as it is.”

The knight went a shameful pink. “I’m sorry about yhh—! Ngh…your wedding. I r-ruined—oh, hhhell—! HHAAESHh! Oh—!” She covered her mouth and went even pinker. “I’m s-so sorry. Please don’t ca-catch this—! hh-hh-hHAAATCHSH!!”

The pleas mixed between hitching breaths jabbed straight between Mathilde’s legs. She forced her face into a scowl. “You didn’t ruin—”

“HAET’CHhhIWW! Oh, I’m so sorry—”

“Bless you,” Mathilde managed through gritted teeth. “You didn’t ruin my wedding. But don’t expect me to like you.” It wasn’t a lie. Mathilde couldn’t deny how badly she wanted to pin Ingrid to a wall and fuck her silly, but she could fuck a woman without liking her. Especially a woman of her husband’s court.

Ingrid sniffled pitifully. “All right,” she said, while her eyes said Mathilde had just crushed her spirit.

A good thirty seconds passed before Sir Ingrid displayed a stunning inability to keep her mouth shut. “I sneeze a lot, you know.”

Mathilde deeply regretted how quickly her head snapped to her new knight. “What?”

“I sneeze a lot,” Ingrid repeated, and sniffled wetly. God, if she didn’t look like such a kicked puppy. “So if, if it bothers you, you ought to ask His Highness to assign somebody else to you.”

The gears in Mathilde’s head ground. Maybe this was the universe’s way of balancing out her fortune: marrying her to a man who dropped a gorgeous, sneezy sir-woman into her lap.

She licked her lips and let a bit of hunger show on her face. “Whose are you really?” she asked bluntly.

“Yours, my lord,” Ingrid said. Immediate and sincere, unless that open-book face was a front.

“Mhm.” Mathilde spread her legs a touch and leaned forward, dropping her voice. “And what would you do for me?”

By the cocky smile that split her face, Ingrid caught Mathilde’s meaning. “Anything, my lord.”

Mathilde let a smile onto her own face, a little reward for the knight, holding her gaze steady. “You’d keep my secrets, wouldn’t you?”

“I—” Ingrid faltered as her nose twitched. Fuck, Mathilde wanted her bad. “I would, my—my—hhih—!” As she tried to turn her head, Mathilde reached across the gap to cup her chin, forcing her to face her. “hEHNG’TCHhuhh!”

Ingrid’s head bobbed in Mathilde’s hand as the stifle failed utterly to prevent snot from running out over her upper lip. She sniffed wetly to little avail. “F-fuck, I’m sor—sorry, I’m g-gonna—! hAAPT’Tchshh!”

Ingrid was bright right by now, in the cheeks as well as the nose, and squirming to turn her face, but Mathilde held her fast. “Good girl,” she purred.

Ingrid’s confusion had hardly a moment to show on her face before it crumpled again—“HAPptcHIW!?”

“Bless you, pretty thing.” Mathilde couldn’t keep the lust out of her voice.

Ingrid didn’t respond, instead looking with flush-faced horror at the mess speckling Mathilde’s sleeve. “I’m so sorry,” she said stuffily. “I—God, fuck, I don’t know what…‘pretty thing’?”

Pink-nosed and clueless was an irresistibly good look on the woman. Mathilde shifted her grip to the back of Ingrid’s neck and pulled herself onto her lap, straddling one of her legs. “You won’t breathe a word of this to the prince, will you?” she murmured, and kissed Ingrid hard.

Ingrid hummed stuffily against her lips, her hands finding the small of her back to pull her closer. But she pulled away far too soon with a gasp for air. “I’m usually better than this,” she said. “This stupid cold—”

Mathilde cut her short with another kiss, revelling in the heat of snot against her cheek. Again Ingrid pulled away, snorting, then broke into a little fit of soft coughs. She sniffled and looked teary-eyed at Mathilde. “Don’t you think he’ll notice when y—when you chhatch thhh—huH’APBTtChuh!” Her leg jerked up between Mathilde’s legs, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

“You’re not sick.” Mathilde grabbed a handful of Ingrid’s hair and pushed the knight’s twitching face against her neck. “Sneeze on me.”

Whether she understood or couldn’t help it, Mathilde wasn’t sure, but she shivered as Ingrid’s damp nostrils flared against the tender skin of her neck and—“hAATCHh!!”—sprayed hot mist over it and down her back. Mathilde couldn't resist a soft moan.

“You’re—snrrk!—into this?” Ingrid realized, grinning despite the continued twitching of her cherry-red nose.

Mathilde answered by reaching to unbutton her codpiece as Ingrid’s breath caught again. Always in threes with her, it seemed.

Ingrid took her chance while Mathilde’s hands were busy to cup a sleeve over her nose. Mathilde paused with a hand on the drawstring of her braies and watched the knight’s chest rise and fall until—“huh—! hhAMFSshiEW!”—she loosed an audibly sodden sneeze into her sleeve.

“Bless you.” Mathilde shivered at the way Ingrid looked at her over her hand, flushed and pink-eyed and still visibly itchy. She yanked at her drawstring snd stood as Ingrid mopped up her nose, then pulled her braies down to reveal herself to Ingrid. “You’d better know how to use that mouth of yours.”

Emerging from behind her hand, Ingrid flashed a hungry grin. She slid from the bench to kneel before Mathilde, grabbing onto her hips to steady her position through the unpredictable bumps of the carriage.

Mathilde could tell from the moment Ingrid’s tongue was on her that she’d done this before. She started gently—too gently, and Mathilde wrapped fingers in her hair and pressed herself into Ingrid’s mouth.

The huff of Ingrid’s breath, hot and stuffy and aroused, her tongue moving faster now across Mathilde’s swollen clit, breaking only to sniff back mess—Mathilde rocked into her, pleasure mounting in her stomach.

She snatched up the lilies from the bench behind her and pressed them to the side of Ingrid’s face, watching a stamen brush Ingrid’s nose where it was buried in her bush. Ingrid’s breath caught immediately, a needful whine. She started to pull away, but Mathilde pressed her close as she erupted into a trio of rapid, gasping sneezes.

“Oh, fuck,” Mathilde whispered, jutting her hips against Ingrid’s head as her breath continued to hitch, audibly snotty. “Bless you. Good girl.”

“HAAEISCH!!” The half-shrieked sneeze brought Mathilde to the brink of orgasm, and a quick lap of Ingrid’s tongue tipped her over. She moaned, shaking, keeping Ingrid’s head in place as the next two sneezes tumbled out of her.

Mathilde’s knees wobbled and she collapsed back against the bench, panting. She glanced up at Ingrid to find her face twisted itchily, dripping with snot and tears.

“hHNG’SHhuhh!” Ingrid muffled the sneeze into both hands, shoulders shaking. She glanced up at Mathilde, seeking approval through tear-wet eyelashes, then crumpled into “hHHAG’tchhuh! h-hih—! hah’GTChshuh! Ngh…”

Languidly, Mathilde plucked up the lilies and tossed them from the carriage. “Bless you,” she purred.

Ingrid snuffled thickly and wiped her hands on her breeches, flashing Mathilde a smug, tear-stained smile. “Was that good?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Mathilde said, her guard rising again in the wake of the orgasm. “You have a lovely nose. That’s all this means.”

Ingrid nodded, her smile not budging. “I understand, my lord.”

“And if I ask for this again…”

A sliver of tongue poked between Ingrid’s teeth and her reddened nostrils flared. “I’ll be here, my lord.”

“Good.” The carriage started to slow, bringing Mathilde back to the reality of the scene. Nothing could come of this. She was a married woman now, and word of her infidelity—with one below her station, no less—could do worse than ruin her reputation. She could dress boyishly with only a little scandal, but publicly wanton lesbianism had to stay in the past.