I should probably make one of them pinned posts for this hiccup kink blog
Here at the top, have some links:
All my writing on this blog.
All of my kink writing on this blog.
All of the one (or two) offs.
My longer hic stories, Poly-techhic, and the stories in the Hagiverse (low-mid fantasy hiccup stuff).
My Ao3. Not everything there is posted here and vice-versa, but there is crossover (lol).
Having said all that, hi, I'm Eli the trans guy and this is my hiccup fetish blog. Here I will be watching, reblogging, and occasionally posting my own writing about hiccups. Said writing will almost all be about girls who like other girls and hiccups, but I'm not opposed to writing about guys or people outside the binary, I just don't tend to do so without prompting.
No interactions from minors, since this whole blog is pretty fuckin' explicit, or at least won't shy away from explicit stuff.
Anyway, under the cut is what we like here (will be edited as needed).
Main Thing: Hiccups!
Hiccups are my fetish. They're central to my experience of sex. So that's what everything around here is gonna be centered on.
Side things: Kinks!
I have a lot of things I like, both related and unrelated to hiccups, so you might see these around. I try to tag extra kinks as I use them. Will be edited and updated as needed.
Actual Sex — Yes I consider this a kink for me: something I like and nice to have, but not always wanted or required.
Bellies — Body focus will be heavily on these. And on a related note,
Stomach noises
Burping — Occasionally fun to have mixed in with/connected to hiccups.
Embarrassment — Oooooh yeah. Pairs very well with my main thing.
Teasing — See above. Not sure this is specific enough though.
Tickling — Hiccups from laughter are so good.
Stuffing — Fun way to cause hiccups.
Inflation — As above, but sillier.
Vore — As above but more absurd. Haven't written much of this yet, but it's definitely possible.
Weight gain? — I'm a little hesitant to put this under kinks, it's more of a theme I guess? Of fat characters having anxiety about their weight and the characters who love them telling them that's stupid? But I wasn't sure where else to note it.
Voyeurism/exhibitionism — I'm including public kink stuff under this.
Various BDSM stuff — My characters may fall into more dominant/submissive roles, tie each other up, and at some point may wind up with an injury or two due to sexy-type stuff.
Furries — I'm just as happy writing furry characters as I am writing human ones.
I'm theoretically open to requests, but extremely bad at writing about things that my muse doesn't pull me into, so I absolutely don't promise responding to them with much, though I may try to do at least a drabble. On a related note, I have very irregular bursts of creative energy and inspiration and not a lot of control over where I put that, so for the most part you'll get what I write when I've written it, and I can't promise any regularity or predictability.
While Aasif is getting in some hiccup practice (with an assist from Sita,) Laila and Tariq are experimenting.
Content: Uncomfortable/somewhat painful hiccups.
“Ready?” Tariq asked. Even from across the room, Laila could see the bowl of rice in the genie’s hands shaking with anticipation.
“Ready,” Laila replied. That was all the encouragement Tariq needed, and they practically dove headfirst into the bowl.
Laila had to say this for Tariq: the genie knew how to enjoy himself. It was no surprise that the sumptuous dishes at the palace drove them wild, but Tariq had basically the same level of unbridled excitement for the meager meals Laila managed to scrape together. Rice or flatbread, a sauce if they were lucky, some kind of meat if they were very, very lucky. And yet, Tariq would attack her meal like it was made from the finest ingredients by the best chefs in Iqara, even licking their bowl clean when they were done.
“It’s delicious!” Tariq groaned happily through a garbled mouthful of rice. “Mmmmm-mmmmmm!”
Laila wished she could let herself feel such unvarnished enthusiasm like that.
Several more bites, and…“*HIC-olk!*” Right on cue came Tariq’s hiccups. They barely slowed the genie down as she gobbled up her food.
Laila could feel herself smiling a little. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You’re th-*huck!*-the best!” Tariq cried. “I’ve said-*HIC-ulk!*-thank you for letting m-*heek!*-me have food, ri-- right?”
Okay, she was definitely smiling now. “Every time we eat,” Laila replied. “Now come on, stress me out or make me mad.”
“Sur-*herk!*-re,” Tariq agreed. “How?”
Laila rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
In truth, though, the longer their acquaintance, the less the genie annoyed her. To be sure, he still annoyed her, undeniably—but they annoyed her less. Laila sometimes caught herself thinking about wishes, wondering if it worried Tariq that she wasn’t fulfilling her duty as their master. Wondering what would happen to them if Laila used all three of her wishes. She supposed Tariq would have to go back into the lamp and wait for his next master to find it. And Laila had heard enough about Tariq’s past masters that she didn’t like the thought of them having to make that gamble again.
A hard “*hulp!*” hit Laila, and she lay her hand across her chest.
“Hey, I di-*hic!*-did it!” Tariq exclaimed.
“I told y-*hmmp!*-you you would,” Laila replied softly. “*hic-ulk!*” Wincing, she rubbed her chest with the side of her hand.
“Ooh, do th-*hup!*-they hurt?” Tariq asked. “I don’t-*HIC-uck!*-like those.”
“Kind o-*hulp!*-of,” Laila admitted.
Tariq wrinkled their nose. Stuffing the last scoop of rice into her mouth, she got to their feet and asked, “Can I c-*hup!*-come over ther-*herk!*-now?”
“Yeah, that’s-*holp!*-fine,” Laila told them. “Once I’ve g-*hulk!*-got the hiccups, *HIC-ulp!* it doesn’t rea-- really matter any-*HOLK!*-more.”
As long as money didn’t get too tight, they ate twice a day, and Laila and Tariq had come to an arrangement about their meals. In the morning, Tariq would do her best to pace himself, at least attempting not to scarf and avoid ending up with contagious genie hiccups. That was…iffy. So far, they’d only managed to do it once.
In the evening, meanwhile, Tariq was free to gobble away. Knowing that hiccups were pretty much inevitable there, Laila instead focused on testing the reaches of the strange interactions Tariq’s body had with his magic. She wanted to find out what the limits were, if there was anything either of them could do to avoid Tariq’s hiccups spreading. Tonight, Laila and Tariq had seated themselves at opposite ends of her one-room hovel, seeing if that could be a way to avoid the effects of the magic.
Sitting on opposite sides had worked once before, but Laila hadn’t interacted with Tariq at all—she’d not spoken to them or looked at them, even going so far as to turn her back to him. But those were pretty extreme measures, and it didn’t seem fair to put Tariq through that, so this time, Laila had hoped the distance alone would be enough to prevent catching the genie’s hiccups. Apparently not.
“You’ll th-*hic!*-think of something,” Tariq encouraged as they came over to sit down beside Laila. “You’re g-*hoop!*-good at tha-A-at.”
Laila gave them a soft bump with her shoulder. “Thanks. *HIC-ulk!* Ooh…” With a grimace, she rubbed her chest again.
“Here-*herk!*-let me get r-*HIC-olk!*-rid of mine,” Tariq offered, readying to hop right back up again. “*HIC-uck!* That way, *hulk!* you can c-*hup!*-cure yours.”
“In a-*holp!*-a minute,” Laila told her. She grabbed Tariq’s arm so they couldn’t scurry off. “You d-*HIC-ulk!*-don’t always have t-- to jump to do-*HIC-ulp!*-doing things for m-*ulp!*-me.”
“But I wa-*holk!*-want to!” Tariq pointed out eagerly.
Laila sighed through another hiccup. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “I kn-- know,” she said. “*HIC-ulp!* You can take-*hulk!*-a second, though, o-*holk!*-okay? I won’t b-*ulp!*-be mad if you don’t in-*HIC-ulk!*-instantly fix everyth-*hmmk!*-thing.”
“Okay,” Tariq agreed, although they didn’t look convinced that this was a valid option. “I-*huck!*-I don’t like i-*hic!*-it when you hur-*herk!*-hurt, though.”
“It’s not tha-*holp!*-that bad,” Laila promised her. “Just a li-*HIC-olk!*-a little uncomforta-- able, that’s-*ulp!*-all.”
“Hmm-*mmp!*” Tariq murmured. After a beat, his face lit up hopefully and they asked, “Can I hel-*hulk!*-help?”
“I’m good-*ulp!*” Laila said. She rested her head on the genie’s shoulder. “Just sit wi-*HIC-ulp!*-with me. We-*holk!*-we can get the water-*hulp!*-in a few mi-IN-utes.”
“All ri-*HIC-ulk!*-right,” Tariq said. Settling in, she rested their forehead against Laila’s. Both their hiccups jostled one another when they were sitting so close, but Laila didn’t mind.
“It’s okay i-*hic!*-if nobody looks-*HIC-uck!*-at me or talks t-*hoop!*-to me,” Tariq offered. “I kn-*holk!*-know getting the hiccu-*huck!*-ups can bother the rest o-*hup!*-of you.”
“No,” Laila told them firmly. “*HIC-ullk!* We’ll find somethi-- ing else that wo-*holp!*-works. And if not, *ulp!* we humans will j-*hulk!*-just suck it up.”
“Mmm,” Tariq murmured, jerking with a distracted-sounding “*HIC-ulk!*” He chewed on their thumbnail. “You don’t h-*hmmk!*-have to do that, *HIC-uck!* though.”
“I wan-*hulp!*-want to,” Laila insisted. “And the o-*hulk!*-the others will too-- oo, at least m-*HIC-ulk!*-more than they-*hmmp!*-want you to be lef-*holp!*-left out.”
Giving a contented sigh, Tariq said, “You’r-*herk!*-the best.”
Laila chuckled. “*hulk!*--*HOLP!* So you keep t-*HIC-ulp!*-telling me.”
If she told Tariq she’d been thinking about wishes, they’d probably be ecstatic. The genie had stopped pestering Laila about it, but only because she’d ordered him not to. A few weeks ago, the thought of using a genie’s wishes as a shortcut had almost felt like an affront to Laila. Now, it seemed silly to scrounge and steal to keep her and Tariq fed when a genie could ensure that she never went hungry again. And as she faced the prospect of pursuing Sita in a genuine way, Laila knew how much Tariq’s magic could help with the logistical challenges: she couldn’t keep wearing the same two nice dresses if she was supposed to be a noblewoman. (If this was to become something real, Laila knew she’d eventually need to come clean, but she wasn’t ready for that yet.)
Even so, for all that a genie’s wishes could do for her, Laila was rapidly finding herself unable to imagine her life without Tariq in it. She didn’t know how she could say goodbye.
Laila let out a strong “*HIC-ulp!*”, a hard thump in her chest. “*HOLK!*” With a little grunt of discomfort, she rubbed her chest with her knuckles.
“You’ve g-*hulk!*-got them really b-- bad this time,” Tariq noted. Before Laila could argue with her, the genie jumped to their feet. “H-*heek!*-here, let me!” Tariq fetched the water pitcher, filled their cup, and bent over to drink from the wrong side.
He was getting pretty good at that now. Despite their hiccups, Tariq emptied the cup without spilling a drop. When they straightened back up, curiosity danced in her eyes as she waited to see if they were cured—Laila watched in amusement.
“Hey, it worked!” Tariq said, and the delight in their voice made Laila feel warm.
Coming back over to sit beside Laila again, Tariq urged, “Now you!
Laila held her breath, but she could still feel herself hiccupping through it. “I don’t th-*HIC-ulk!*-think that’s gonna d-*holp!*-do the trick,” she admitted. “I-*holk!*-need some wate-*HULP!*-water.”
“Wait here!” Tariq cried, scrambling up again.
It would’ve been logical to just bring the pitcher and both their cups over the first time, but Tariq wasn’t exactly the most logical of beings. Laila looked on as she ran back to the pitcher, realized they’d forgotten to grab Laila’s cup, went to pick that up, then returned to the pitcher again and filled it.
Finally, the genie brought the cup over to Laila. “I really hope it helps,” they said, and he managed to inject more sincerity into those few words than Laila thought she’d ever felt in her entire life.
How could she go back to life without them?
Laila drank the water with slow continual swallows. When she finished, she couldn’t help grinning at the eager hopefulness in Tariq’s eyes. “Give it a second,” Laila told them. She waited, but there were no more hiccups.
“Yeah, that did it,” she said, and Tariq pulled her into an exuberant hug.
“Oh, good!” he exclaimed. “Always tell me if they hurt, okay? I want to stop mine as soon as possible if yours are hurting you.”
Although Laila made herself roll her eyes, drawling back, “You worry too much,” she was genuinely touched by the genie’s concern.
“No I don’t!” Tariq pointed out. “Because you worry way more than I do, and you don’t worry too much. You worry just the right amount.”
Laila laughed. Was there anything they didn’t think was perfect about her? “Fine, have it your way,” she replied.
Wishes or no wishes, there was no way she could just send Tariq back to his lonely lamp, Laila realized. Not an option.
One thing Tariq did have right—Laila would think of something. She always did.
I thought I'd switch things up a little for this next Laila & Tariq story, see what the characters get up to before they all meet up again. It'll also be the first one I've written that includes POVs from Aasif and Sita!
Content: Extremely fast/strong hiccups, pain/discomfort from spicy food.
Aasif walked briskly back from the kitchens, his quarry tucked into his sleeve. No reason to advertise—the servants or guards would only wonder why he was carrying such a thing through the palace, and he really didn’t see why anyone else had to know.
He returned to his bedroom and set his prize on his desk. For a moment, he just eyed it, wondering about the best way to begin. Should he just go for it?
At that moment, his door opened, and Aasif let out a long-suffering sigh. “What do you want, Sita?” he called over his shoulder. It had to be his sister. Any of the palace staff would’ve knocked, and his parents didn’t come to him—they’d send one of the servants to fetch him.
Sita hung back in the doorway, holding up a vase of cut flowers. “I got these from the gardens, thought you might like some,” she explained.
Well, how was Aasif meant to be annoyed with her when she was all thoughtful? It was one of the most aggravating things about his sister. “Yes, thank you,” he said in a resigned tone. “Come on in.”
He stood in front of the desk to block her view, but Sita didn’t seem to be paying much mind anyway. “What are you up to?” she asked, fussing with the (admittedly very pretty) flowers as she walked into the room.
“Oh, you know—plots, schemes, the usual,” Aasif replied.
“Huh?” She looked up at him.
Aasif chuckled. “Nothing, Sita.”
“Mmm.” She nodded. “Right.” As she looked around the room, Sita murmured to herself, “Now where to put you?”
“Maybe over by the—” Aasif started to say, gesturing to his bedside table, but Sita approached the desk instead.
“What about here?” she asked in the same breath as Aasif. Slipping past him, Sita set the vase down and was pulled up short by what she found on the desk.
“That’s a hearth pepper,” she said.
Aasif gave the thing a glance. “Is it?” he mused, as if he’d only just noticed himself.
“Why do you have a hearth pepper in your room?” Sita wondered.
No, she was annoying. Definitely annoying. “It brightens up the atmosphere,” Aasif drawled back.
“Aasif,” Sita said.
Aasif’s sister could be meek and withdrawn in company, but if she felt comfortable enough with you, she could be downright stubborn. With another sigh, Aasif admitted, “I need…practice.”
Sita frowned. “Practice at what? Eating the hottest food that grows in Iqara?” Rolling her eyes, she asked, “Is this a bet? With who, Rashad from the stables?”
“It’s not a bet,” Aasif told her. “It’s…” Between the two of them, it was very rare that Aasif was the tongue-tied one. He wondered if Sita was enjoying the role reversal. “Look,” he finally said, “it’s to help me get ready for seeing Tariq again.”
“But why would Tariq want you to—?” Sita began, and Aasif saw the exact moment she realized what he was doing. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a small laugh escaped her.
Aasif gave a small huff and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Go on, say it.”
“You’re trying to get the hiccups?” Sita asked.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Aasif retorted. “I always get so embarrassed and cranky when I have them. Tariq’s curse is non-negotiable, so I have to figure out a way to get used to them. And I thought, practice—this is the first thing I could think of that might work.”
As she thought this over, Sita cocked her head. “Wait here,” she told him. “You’d better at least have some milk ready for yourself, or you’ll regret this fast.”
All right, so Aasif couldn’t be annoyed at Sita’s smarts either, not when they saved him from his own impulsivity. “Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “Good idea.”
Heading for the door, Sita added, “I mean, you might regret the idea anyway. But at least you can prepare yourself for the fallout.”
“Thanks, Sita!” Aasif called after her.
While he waited, Aasif discovered that he was starting to feel apprehensive about the whole thing. Whenever the cooks served dishes made with hearth peppers, it never took more than a few mouthfuls for him to start sweating, and that was when they were blended into a sauce. They were supposed to be even hotter when they were raw, weren’t they?
That was the trouble with Sita’s pragmatism—when she pointed out all the logic, it gave you time to second-guess yourself. If not for her, Aasif would have done it already. Of course, that might’ve meant he’d be curled up on the floor with his mouth on fire, so there were pitfalls on either side.
A few minutes later, Sita returned with a pitcher of milk and a goblet. “You didn’t tell anyone what you needed it for, did you?” Aasif asked.
“Of course not,” Sita replied. “I didn’t think you’d want the servants to know the man you like is cursed, so you’re giving yourself the hiccups to help you cope with it.”
Was Aasif stalling? Hard to say. “Didn’t you hear Laila the last time they were here?” Aasif said. “She used ‘he,’ ‘she,’ and ‘they’ when she was talking about Tariq.” With a playful grin, he just nudged his sister. “Or when Laila talks, are you too busy getting lost in her eyes to hear what she says?”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Sita informed him, making a face.
“I happen to be an excellentjudge of my own humor,” Aasif countered.
“Fine—the person you like is cursed then,” Sita said. She sank down so she was eye level with the desk and looked at the hearth pepper. “Are you stalling?”
“I would never!” Aasif exclaimed. Sita raised her eyebrows at him and he realized that, if he talked much longer, he’d wind up backing out. If he wanted to go through with this, it would have to be now.
So, taking a breath, Aasif said, “I’m ready.” As he picked up the pepper by its stem, Sita filled the goblet with milk for him.
Just raising the hearth pepper near his face was enough to make his eyes water. Aasif told himself that that was good—it meant it had a good chance of working.
Okay, now or never.
Somehow reckless and cautious at the same time, Aasif took the smallest bite possible of the hearth pepper. It gave him about half a second of grace before it assaulted his tongue. By the time Aasif managed to swallow, he was already sweating.
“Oh-oh-oh!” he panted, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.
“Aasif,” Sita prompted. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she held up the goblet.
Aasif seized it with both hands and gulped down a few swallows. “Oh my g-*ulk!*-god!” He downed the rest of the milk and handed the goblet back to Sita. “More, pl-please,” he begged. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he fanned at his tongue.
“Yes, I have it,” Sita assured him.
Another hiccup hit him while she was refilling the goblet, a hard “*huck!*” God, his throat and chest were burning now too. “Hurry!” Aasif insisted, his eyes streaming.
Sita gave him the goblet and watched as he tried to quench the fire he’d just swallowed. “Aren’t you glad I came along?” she asked.
“Shut up,” Aasif replied between gulps of milk. It was helping a little—the heat wasn’t unbearable—but he still felt like, if he breathed too hard, his desk would go up like kindling. “*hup!*”
“At least it worked,” Sita offered, giving Aasif a sympathetic smile as she took the empty goblet from him and refilled it again.
Aasif wasn’t so sure. After four goblets of milk, he was feeling slightly more human again, but in that time, he only counted six hiccups.
“I don’t think I have them,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Sita argued. “You started hiccupping as soon as you swallowed it.”
“It made me hiccup,” Aasif conceded. “But I don’t think it’s given me the hiccups. It’s like th-*hmmk!*-they haven’t fully taken.”
Looking with grim resignation at the hearth pepper, Aasif realized, “I need to try again.”
Sita gave him an incredulous look. “Do you seriously want to put yourself through that a second time?”
“I’m nearly there,” Aasif told her. “At least, I think I am. I bet one mor-*herk!* bite would put me over the edge.”
Sighing, Sita refilled the goblet in readiness. “Have it your way.”
It took a firm resolve to back go for a second round when Aasif’s tongue still felt tender from his first attempt. But he reminded himself of Tariq’s sunshiny face and gorgeous black curls. If Aasif was going to get over his damn embarrassment over getting the hiccups, he’d have to face it head on.
The second bite was, if possible, even smaller than the first, but it packed just as much a wallop. Aasif’s poor beleaguered tongue, mouth, throat, and stomach staggered like wounded troops being told to get ready for the next bout.
Sita was on hand with the goblet, and Aasif doused his mouth with a few swallows before the first “*HUP!*” hit him. Another swallow, a “*HUCK!*--*ulk!*”, then a rat-a-tat of “*hmmp!**ULK!**HUCK!*” kept him from drinking any more.
With a wince, Sita offered, “Well done?”
Aasif nodded weakly through a “*HERK!*--*HUP!**HUP!*”, hiccupping too fast and too hard for much else. He’d never had hiccups this badly before, and he was all but at the mercy of them. Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, he grimaced at the unforgiving drumbeat of hiccups slamming against his throat and chest, which were still searing from the heat of the pepper. “*HMMK!**HMMP!**hmmp!*--*ULK!**HMMK!*”
“Sit tight,” Sita told Aasif, squeezing his shoulder. She emptied the goblet back into the pitcher and ran to fetch a different one, the water pitcher by his wash basin. Hurriedly, she returned to the desk and refilled the goblet with water.
Aasif gave up—he was barely eking out his words anyway, and from Sita’s expression, she was having trouble following him. Fumbling on his desk for paper and ink, he scrawled a hasty note in a hand that jerked from his hiccups.
The whole point is to have them, not cure them
Sita read his note, then looked back up at him. “I know,” she said. “But frankly, I doubt water would cure them right now. I was just thinking that it might slow them down a little, let you catch your breath.”
There she went again—logical. With a “*HMMP!**HERK!*--*HUCK!**HUP!**HUP!*--*hmmk!*”, Aasif nodded, and Sita gave him the goblet.
“Slowly,” she counseled. “See if you can manage a small sip.”
She had a point. Aasif would probably start sputtering and coughing if he tried to drink normally. He wasn’t sure what effect that might have on the hiccups, but he could guess that it wouldn’t be good.
“*ULK!**herk!**HUCK!**HERK!*” A tiny sip, barely enough to wet his tongue. “*HUP!**HMMK!*--*ULK!*” Another sip. “*HUP!**HUP!**HUCK!*” Another.
It took all of that goblet, but Aasif got himself down to the slightest reprieve between hiccups. “*HUCK!*--*ULK!*--*HERK!*--*hmmp!*” Although they were still much harder than his normal cases ever were—faster too—they felt like less of an assault on his body. “*HUP!*-Can-*HMMK!*-I-*HUCK!*-have-*HERK!*-anoth-*HMMP!*-nother?” he asked his sister.
“Yes, of course,” Sita replied reassuringly. She filled the goblet again.
By the time he got through a second goblet of water, Aasif still had a bad case of hiccups, but they weren’t unbearable. A fair amount of the spice had dissipated too, so he wasn’t feeling fresh heat with each hiccup anymore.
“All right-*HMMK!*-I think th-*HUCK!*-that will-*HUP!*--*hmmk!*-do,” Aasif announced. He threw himself into his desk chair in an exhausted-yet-dramatic pose, tipping his head onto the chair back and resting a weary hand on his stomach as it jerked with his hiccups.
“Are you all right now?” Sita asked.
“Some-*HMMP!*-thing like-*HERK!*-that,” Aasif told her. A hard “*HUCK!*” interrupted his groan.
“Look on the bright side,” Sita pointed out. “I know this turned out worse than you bargained for, but the next time you get them from Tariq’s curse, they won’t be nearly as bad as this.”
Aasif sighed. “*HUP!*--*HERK!* I suppo-*ulk!*-pose,” he agreed. “That’s s-*HUCK!*-something.” He glanced at Sita. “I’d pl-*HMMK!*-planned on-*HMMP!*--*huck!*-walking aroun-*HUP!*-the palace-*HERK!*-so I c-*HMMP!*-could prac-*HUCK!*-tice letting-*HUCK!*--*HUP!*-other p-*HMMK!*-people see-*hup!*-me with them, *HMMP!* but there’s-*HERK!*-no way in-*hmmk!*-in hell-*HUCK!*-I’m doin-*ULK!*-that with th-*HMMP!*-these.”
Sita nodded her understanding. “I think you’ve done more than enough ‘practicing’ for today,” she said. Patting his shoulder, she added, “Try to relax if you can. Is there anything else I can bring you?”
With a shake of his head, Aasif replied, “Thanks, Sita-*HUP!*” He rubbed his chest with his knuckles. “I’m ok-*HUCK!*--HERK!*-okay.”
“All right then.” Sita headed for the day. “I’ll leave you be. I hope you don’t have them long!”
“Me-*hup!*-too!” Aasif called after her.
Once he was alone, Aasif got up, walked across the room, and sprawled his hiccupping self onto his bed. This maybe wasn’t one of his more brilliant ideas, although not even Sita could deny that it was clearly effective.
Sadly this has nothing to do with what I was talking about yesterday, but it's been partially in the oven for a very long time. I have a tendency to write part of a story, leave it for months on end, then come back to it at some random point later and get further. Occasionally I even finish them.
This piece was actually my first attempt at last Hicvember's day 10: Free space. I ended up trying this theme and another one before I landed on one I was able to actually write, In Vino Veritas. I really like how that came out, but this piece still lingered.
Anyway, this is a story about two rando girls who hate each other. Hiccups are relevant, though it's worth noting that there's a pretty long period at the end without any of them. Still definitely a kink story though.
TW: Sexism (discussed), Ableism (discussed briefly), unhealthy family shit (mentioned), the evils of college sports.
Kinks: Hiccups, arousal, and that's more or less it.
I couldn't believe it. My first day of college classes. One of the most important days of my life. And the woman right next to me was wearing literal pajamas.
I wasn't being judgmental here! I wasn't talking about sweatpants! If she was wearing those, I would have been able to deal with it! But no. She was wearing pajama pants. Pajama pants with spiderman and hello kitty all over them. Underneath a tank top that did nothing to hide unshaven armpits. Her sneakers looked like they cost significantly more than the rest of her clothes combined, which I could tell because she rested them on the seat in front of her until she saw another student lumber tiredly towards it. I couldn't entirely blame her for that rudeness, though. Her lean body was much taller than average, and didn't fold very well into the tightly-packed chairs of the lecture hall. But I could absolutely blame her for coming in here dressed like that!
And I couldn't even ignore her like I would have loved to do. No. I had to keep looking at her.
Because she just had to also have the hiccups.
Her long neck would straighten out and cave in with every hiccup, head bobbing as the sounds caught in her throat and behind her nose, partially but not entirely stifled. And she must have been able to feel me continuing to look at her, because at some point, when my eyes glanced over again, she was looking back at me, and I forced my face back to the front.
Lecture. Lecture would be beginning soon. Pay attention.
"You re–*heek*–ealize that ju–*uck*–ust because it's a pr---private college does–*nkt* mean it has a *hmnk* uniform, right?"
My eyes were torn back to her and saw her eyebrows arched at me, and I ripped them away again, locking them to the lectern that still didn't have anyone behind it, despite the fact that it was mere minutes away from 8 AM. "You realize that just because this is a college doesn't mean it's a place for people to get drunk and waste their lives, right?" I hissed.
That...came off more harshly than I meant it to. But the snort she gave me as she lazily rolled her head over her shoulders made me feel significantly less guilty about it. And my eyes kept twitching towards her during the lecture as she stared blankly, still hiccuping through the whole thing, not taking a single note or even having a book open to try.
Later that day, when I was moving to one of my many classes, I got a bit lost and wound up near the gymnasium. In there, I saw her playing basketball, the number twelve across her back as she stretched her long body out in the air to throw a ball from halfway across the court into the basket. Ah. An athletic scholarship. Of course. Some people were just born lucky. Tall, thin, muscular, visually striking, graceful movements, adorable hiccups...
...NOT THAT ANY OF THAT WAS IN ANY WAY RELEVANT TO ME.
She should have been even less relevant to me when we saw each other at the same class again on Wednesday. But she was hiccuping again. And she sat near me again. I couldn't believe my terrible luck.
When it happened again on Friday, I came prepared, shoving a bottle of water towards her before she could even sit down. "Uh...*hnk* thanks?"
"That should help," I said, making eye contact with the empty chalkboard as hard as I could.
"With wh---" a silent hiccup cut her off, and I wondered if that had let her pick up on the very obvious answer. After a second, she snorted, then started drinking, and I felt my body relax just the tiniest bit.
I then immediately unrelaxed as I heard her hiccup almost deliberately loudly, yanking my focus back to her and seeing a small, insufferable smirk on her lips as she tapped the empty plastic bottle with her fingers and hiccuped again. She crunched it up, screwing the cap back on after she did, then threw it with a "Pchoo–*ook*–oooo," into a garbage can that was, admittedly, far enough away for that to be fairly impressive. And then she was smirking at me again, and her eyes felt like she'd nailed me in place. "'precia–*uck*–ate it, princ–*ssk*–cess." Hearing her call me that, I could tell my face burned up to my ears, and I saw her insufferable smile widen as she noticed that. She at least had the good sense to shut up and listen to the professor when he arrived, though she still didn't take any notes. And when the class was over, I nearly jumped out of my skin when her hand landed on my shoulder. "You bu–*uck* buy that wat–*erk* for lil' ol' me–*heek*?" I didn't answer. Refused to answer. She took her hand back and strode past me with a shrug. "Well, do–*hnk*–n't bother if you d---did. Never cu–*hurk*–ures me. *hnk* You'll need t---to try a lit–*llk* harder than tha–*uck* to shu–*hup* shut me up, *hnk* princess."
I hated her. I hated that woman so much.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I would come to that class, and she would be there, hiccuping away, barely seeming to pay any attention. I kept bringing water for her. It never worked. I hated everything. I started recording the lecture to try and supplement my imperfect notes, but obviously that didn't help, because the recordings had her hiccuping right next to me directly in them. Even though we would see each other and exchange a few bitter words every time we were in the class together, I deliberately avoided learning her name, and she seemed to just as deliberately avoid mine. As far as I was concerned, she was "number twelve", and as far as she was concerned, I was apparently "princess".
...admittedly, that's not something I ever thought anyone would call me. It was novel, at least.
One horrible morning, I didn't wake up on time. My terrible roommate apparently turned my alarm off. I never turned her alarms off when they went off every five minutes on days that I didn't have morning classes, but apparently mine going off a single time was too much for her even though it was a Monday and she shouldn't have still been drunk from the weekend. So, despite sprinting out of my dorm, not even getting dressed properly or taking a shower, I arrived at the class in my own humiliating T-shirt and pajama pants just as everyone was exiting the lecture hall.
"Hey, *hnk* princess." The last person I wanted to hear from was hovering near me almost instantly, and she threw a long arm around my shoulders. "Look at y---you. Preten–*hnk*–ding to walk am–*hmp* among us com---moners? 'Fraid y–*hnk* you can't foo–*ool* me."
"Go away, twelve."
"What? Co–*hump* come on, I ne–*eurk*–nearly died of deh–*hlk* dehydration *hmnk* in there. I ne–*heek* need my water gi–*hirk*–irl, princess."
"Go away, twelve!" I rounded on her, and she pulled her arm off of my shoulders and stepped back. I missed its weight and warmth and the feeling of her shaking against me with each hiccup. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit, this was terrible. And I only got madder from how humiliating it all was. "Some of us actually take our studies seriously and intend to make use of the opportunities we've been given here! And part of that plan isn't to flout our classes!"
"Du–*hook* dude, it's one class *hnk*, chill."
"Well, we can't all ride on our sports scholarships instead of putting in effort like you, twelve!"
The way she looked at me felt strange. I knew I was embarrassing myself, knew I was getting heated up when I shouldn't, but her stare on me felt...rotting. Like it was crumbling me from the inside out. I expected her to say something. To have some clever comeback. To make fun of me for actually having something that I was dedicated to in my life. But instead, her eyes just narrowed, and her lips pursed as she looked almost disappointed at me. "...bitch."
I should have been furious. A tiny spark of anger did flare in my chest. But instead of the rest of me catching fire, that blunt profanity just made me feel even more disgusting.
As she walked away, I realized humorlessly that I'd surprised her enough to have cured her hiccups.
Later that day, when I was actually properly dressed and put together, eating alone in the cafeteria, I was shocked when a small bag of candy was thrown down in front of me. Where the brand name should have been, a marker had clearly scratched it out, and "anti-anxiety meds" was written on it instead. When I looked up, I saw twelve glaring down at me, and she turned sharply and stalked away. As she did, though, she said "email the professor for today's notes, dumbass." I wasn't sure if anyone in the world had ever called me a dumbass, but I absolutely felt like one when, after following her advice, I received all the information I'd missed that morning with a single, drama-free email.
I woke up very early the next day, and though I didn't have any morning classes Tuesdays or Thursdays, I couldn't stand looking at my roommate's face and stalked outside to get a breath of fresh air. At least this early, nobody would be awake to see me like this.
So I assumed, at least, but instead, in the mists while the sun was barely up, I saw a single silhouette running laps around the campus. I didn't have my contacts in, so they were even more obscured by the mist (which was doing horrible things to my kinky hair, but I didn't have the energy to care about that) than they would be for a normal person, but I could see enough of their long body to identify that they were circling the campus multiple times at a speed I'd probably consider a sprint. The way that their shadow flew and how their shoes barely made a single noise against the ground made it seem almost effortless.
But listening for the noise of their shoes as they came near, I heard and recognized a different sound, and my hair stood on end even more than it already was. Worse, before I could respond to that, she was coming over towards me. I could only sit stock still as twelve jogged over to the wall of my dorm and...picked up a hose? She picked up a hose that I'd become accustomed to seeing just lying on the ground, then turned it on and started slurping the limp stream of water that burbled out of it.
And she just kept hiccuping all the while.
She wasn't in her tank top and pajama pants. Somehow she was wearing even less, only a sports bra and what I was fairly sure were boxer shorts. So I could see her toned stomach, mostly straight as she crouched by the hose rather than bending. But it still curled enough to form ripples that vanished momentarily with each hiccup that knocked her backwards, lifting her chest and shoulders enough for her to bounce slightly when she fell back into her original pose. And all this while she barely seemed to notice the excess water spilling down onto her already-wet chest, dampening her bra even more while I desperately tried to avoid looking at her.
I failed. And she absolutely noticed that I failed when her eyes lifted and met mine. She made a confused noise between hiccups, then reached over and turned off the hose, straightening up and clumsily gulping down her current mouthful of water before wiping her lips and chin on her already-damp arm. "Pr–*hrk*–princess? *HNK-llk*"
Her short hair was clinging to her face, whether from sweat or from the mist I wasn't sure, and that I noticed that before I responded was a terrible, terrible sign. I ripped my gaze away from her. "Twelve. I'm sure you have better things to do being up so early, so please, don't let me interrupt what I assume is a special occasion."
"This is *huk* when I get up *h'puk* every day."
"What?" I whipped my head to look at her again and she gave a lazy shrug. This was significantly earlier than even I generally woke up.
Her shoulders bounced with a nearly silent hiccup, almost a second shrug. "I'm still–*hlk* learning how t---how to use the gym *hmk* machines and shit, *hlk* so I don't like ha–*uck*–having too many people around. *h'muk!* Oh, and y–*hlk* you know. *hmp* These."
Having her acknowledge her hiccups made my face burn, but I did my best to ignore that and hope the mist was obscuring it. "Do you really get those every day?"
She shrugged again and nodded, both on purpose and compelled by her hiccups. "G–*hnk* get 'em whenev–*urk* I wake up. *h'kup* Probably *hulp* go away fast–*erk* if I di–*hip* didn't breathe hea–*uck* heavy all morning, *hup* but sitting–*hnk* around doing no–*huh*–thing gives me h-*hmk* hives." Despite the obvious illogic of it, my brain crammed "hiccups" at the end of that last sentence before she corrected it. "What ab–*hup* about you, pri–*hnk*–ncess?" I still couldn't see that well, but I could hear the smirk on her lips. "Getting up *hmk* extra ea–*urk*–rly to make *hnk* absol–*hlp*–lutely sure you *hmp* don't miss class *hlk* today?"
I appreciated twelve giving me a reason to remember to hate her. "No, I won't be acting as your schadenfreude spigot for today, I'm afraid. I woke up late yesterday, so this is simply regression toward the mean."
She squinted at me, and after a moment she shook her head. "Okay, thi–*HNK* I got enou–*uck*–ough of those wo–*hurk*–ords to get the m–*mmp*–message."
"If you're so uninterested in learning, why are you even here?"
"To get *hmp* into the WNBA."
I looked at her for any sign that she was joking. She hiccuped, but other than that, I didn't see a hint of anything unserious. "Wait, really?"
"Yeah. *HMP* Basketball's the o–*nnk* only thing I'm go–*hook*–ood at, and do–*HOOP* doing college ball *hmp* is the best way to m---make a career out of *HUP* that." She huffed and rested a hand on one hip. "E–*EEP*–even though *HMP* they don't a–*A-UCK* actually pay us. *HNK-nnp!* Hwoof."
She rested a hand on her chest and I forced myself to maintain my anger so I could ignore that. "You're being paid in a scholarship, one assumes." She shrugged and nodded. "So one would think that you'd take a bit more advantage of that."
Twelve snorted. "Yeah, well 'one' *hmp* would be thi–*INK*–king about it l–*llk*–like an owner then. *HUK-upp!* Guh." She rubbed at her chest some more, but didn't take her eyes off of me. "Since they're *HLK* 'paying' us in–*HNK* in school credits, we–*HEEK* we don't get paid *HMP* real money. Instead, we ju–*UCK* just have to *HLK* take classes and---nnh, and shit while *HMK* we're trying to play–*HEEP* professional fu–*HUCK*–cking sports at–*HIYUK* at the same t---time. Fuck, ow."
Her hiccups were getting worse, bigger and bigger, and that was extremely distracting, but I was listening to what she was talking about too. I turned to face her more fully, not quite able to pretend I wasn't staring, but also more interested than I expected to be. "Not to encourage this, but if it's anything like my high school was, wouldn't the teachers be happy to fudge your grades?"
She snorted again, resulting in a mostly silent hiccup that made her grunt before she refocussed on me. "Okay fi–*HIRK*–irst, they're profes–*hsp*–sors here. But se–*ECK*–cond, that shit's on-*HNK* only for dudes. *HIYUP* Think they're wi–*HILP*–lling to do *HMK* shit like that for the *HULP* ladies' team? *HNK-LLP!* Once we–*HEEK* bring in the bro *HUP* money, maybe we'll *HKK* talk. But we–*HEEK*–don't get that kind o–*HUP* of marketing he---ere." After a moment, she continued, the smile she usually wore twisting into something like a scowl. "A–*ulk*–lso, big as---sumption that we gi–*HIRK*–irls get full rides. *HMK* Some of us g---gotta take out st---student loans like the *HNK-llk!* fuck!...like the rest *HUP* of you." She had to stop mid-sentence to rub her chest and throat some more.
My brain was struggling with all the input it was getting, but what twelve was saying did manage to sink in for me. "Wait, you're not even getting a full ride?"
"Nnn–*HNP*–nnnope."
Despite her hiccups, I did manage to actually pull my eyes away from her for a moment, looking down at the concrete beneath us. Concrete and brick. These buildings were old, but they got renovated. That had to cost money. And I knew for a fact that at least some of the professors and coaches here were paid quite a bit. Overpaid, in my opinion. But maybe I didn't know as much as I thought I did. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, *hkk* it's some bullshit *hmp* isn't it? *HUK!*"
"No. Well, yes, yes it is, but that's not what I'm saying." Ugh. I hated apologies. And the circumstances couldn't be more emotionally confusing and infuriating. Even so, I forced myself to look her in the eyes and did everything I could to ignore the way her head kept getting knocked back. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I understand why you called me a bitch. I was acting like one."
She stared at me for a few long moments, then let out a soft laugh. Her smile came back, though it was much more subdued and less jocular than usual. "Guess I don't have to apologize for saying that, then." After a moment of silence between the two of us, she met my eyes again. "I still will, though. I'm sorry I called you a bitch. You care about shit. Probably more than ninety percent of the people here. Maybe even more than me. And I guess you didn't realize how much I care about this."
"No, I didn't." And I really hadn't. I'd never even imagined. Another thought was niggling at the back of my mind though, and I prepared myself emotionally before bringing it up. "Just like you haven't realized that your hiccups are gone.
"No, I noticed that." I was a bit surprised at how bluntly she said that. It was so blunt that I didn't even question if she was lying. "I pay a fuckload of attention to my body. They'll probably come back when I keep working out, though. Still feeling hiccupy."
She rubbed her chest, and her use of the absurd word "hiccupy" did even more absurd things to my heart rate, but I crossed my arms and frowned up at her anyway. "You could still try to pay just a little attention to our lectures, though. Maybe take a note or two?"
"Pff, you think I'd be able to read that shit?"
"Your handwriting is that bad?"
"Well, yeah, but I couldn't read your perfect-looking notes either, princess." I had no idea what hearing her call me that again was making me feel. "Reading fucking sucks. I have to fucking swim through the fucking words upstream, and by the time I've gotten through all of them, I forgot what the fuck the beginning was, so I can't fucking say what the fuck that it meant."
She sounded genuinely frustrated, even if I mentally excised all the "fuck"s and derivatives thereof from the sentence. "Are you dyslexic?"
"Fuck if I know. My parents already knew their kid was dumb as shit. Didn't need some doctor telling them to get more specific." Even as she tried to be glib, I could hear the genuine hurt in her voice, and an ache in my chest formed for her. "Either way, trying to take notes would just make shit worse. All I can do is listen as hard as fucking possible and try not to get distracted so that maybe my brain can remember a thing. That's why I got instructions about my exercises and food shit recorded on here." She pulled her phone out of the pocket that her boxer shorts apparently had, tapping on the side of it, then gesturing at the wireless buds in her ears.
Despite myself, I was curious. "'Food shit'?"
"Yeah, nutrition and stuff. I know I ate mostly garbage back home, and I know shit's important if I'm gonna be good enough for the WNBA. So I asked the coach about it, and he told me some stuff, but then one of the seniors actually gave me advice." As the morning got brighter and the mist started to fade, I could see twelve well enough that I noticed her face going red. "She was even nice enough to record herself saying the shit when I told her I wouldn't be able to read it."
"That's really interesting." It came out of my mouth before I had a chance to soften it. I couldn't decide whether I liked or disliked the surprised look that it got me. "I-I'm studying to be a biologist, so hearing about those sorts of things and how they impact the body could be really useful for me. Would you..." what I was about to say sunk in, and I thought extremely hard about shutting up and walking away, but something in me decided to keep going. "Would you be open to talking with me about it?"
Twelve blinked down at me from her vantage point far above six feet, then a smile slowly drifted onto her face. "Uh, yeah. Guess so. If you want it right now, though, you'll have to come to the gym with me."
There were so many reasons that was a bad idea. Even so, I started walking after her, occasionally having to break into a jog to keep up. "It'll get me out of this mist at least. My hair will thank me for that."
"Aww, that's kind of a shame. I was liking how frizzy you looked, princess."
The comment about my hair made me feel complicated enough to ignore it. Instead, I just said "Miranda."
"Hm?"
I looked up and met her eyes. "My name is Miranda. So you can stop calling me 'princess' now."
She snorted and smirked. "Okay, Princess Miranda."
I hated how annoyed and endeared I was all at once. When she didn't say anything else, I cleared my throat. "You know, it's customary to say what your name is after someone shares theirs."
"Mmmm...nah." I sputtered with confusion, and she smirked back down at me. "I like getting called 'twelve.' Makes me feel special. So if you wanna know my real name, guess you'll have to show up to a game or something like that."
That did not ease my sputtering, and I spent most of the rest of the walk glaring at her. Once we got to the gym, though, it was an entirely different story. She wasn't wrong, during her warmup she was quick to catch the hiccups again, and she warned me she'd have to listen to her workout instructions on and off. So all I could really do was stare.
All I could do was stare at twelve as she worked out, her bare stomach frequently tensing, letting me see a glimpse of the muscles inside as they spasmed, her breaths making them swing between silent and shamelessly loud. And her seeming to ignore them entirely unless they were absolutely wracking her body. Which sometimes they did.
And all I could do was stare.
God damn it. I was going to have to go to a basketball game. But fuck if I was going to let twelve win. She may have been hot and hiccupy and more ambitious than I ever would have realized, but at the very least I was going to learn her stupid name. So then I could call her by it and see how she felt about that.
And a part of me was hoping she liked it enough that she'd hiccup.
Somewhat related to the last post, the image going through my mind today is a sweet girl with an image she thinks she needs to uphold just struggling with all her might.
Even though this is usually more associated with burps (and I do like it in that context too), the phrase "excuse me again" really does something for me. Still trying to be polite even though it's happened enough that it's starting to feel redundant. Possibly the dawning realization that you're not gonna win this one and you're in for something longer term.
Hand on chest, other hand floating up, unsure whether to cover her mouth or not, face flushed, waiting in anticipation...yeah. That's really good shit.
My poor fucking girlfriend had the hiccups on-again-off-again basically all day while we played a game together for hours, and I feel so bad for her, but also fuuuuuuuck she is so fucking hot.
Hiccups that audibly thump in the back of the throat or chest.
Sharp hiccups that snap the head back.
Fast muffled hiccups accompanied by a fist to the mouth.
Hiccups so hard they encourage a breathy belch.
Someone intentionally making their hiccups worse.
Hi'ULGK!-Hi'ULGK!-HIYULGK!
Hiccups getting squeakier because they're getting worse.
Hiccups that are two-syllable but the first syllable is silent so the person jolts and then lets out an UGLK! as they jerk again.
Mutters between hiccups. Groans, grunts, sighs.
Hiccups that are consistently fast but inconsistent in their sounds.
Hiccups that are inconsistently fast, slowing down and then getting really fast for a clip and then slowing down again.
"Oh, I think they're finally slowing down," followed by "I guess not..."
Subtly trying to cure the hiccups but it's not working.
Just a little bit of a pant between the exertion of faster/harder hiccups.
And I know I already said it, but someone making their hiccups as "bad" as possible because they know someone else will enjoy it or they enjoy it themselves. Because nothing hits harder than someone who's voluntarily creating the hottest situation ever regardless of the strain.
Shit. I've done it again, written something erotic. I guess. You probably already know it but English is not my first language. I really really hope you don't hate it because I liked writing it.
Tw: mentions of alcohol intake and being hungover
Cw: explicit sexual content
They had stayed up far too late that night. They had also been drinking—enough to feel it, though not to the point of being sick. Still, she could feel the aftermath now as she opened her eyes and reached for the glass of water on her nightstand.
The room was bright, her head throbbed lightly, and her mouth was dry. Beside her, he was still asleep, his chest rising and falling with steady, deep breaths. She lay still, watching him, until suddenly—almost as if he had sensed her eyes on him—he turned over and blinked awake.
When he smiled at her, her chest tightened.
“What time is it?” His voice was rough, and he cleared his throat.
“I have no idea. I’d have to check my phone, but I don’t even remember where I left it.” She gave a little shrug.
He chuckled. “Are you okay? We definitely got a bit drunk.”
“I think so,” she said, smiling. “I’ll get us some water—and maybe my phone, if I can find it.” She winked at him before sliding out of bed, still completely naked.
That was the best part of living on the top floor: she could walk around naked whenever she wanted.
In the kitchen, she spotted her phone on the table. It was early—too early. They’d only had about four hours of sleep. No wonder she felt restless; she never slept well after drinking. God, maybe she was still a little drunk.
She padded back to the bedroom and paused in the doorway, taking him in. He was lying on his back, arms folded behind his head, nothing but a thin sheet across his hips. His hair was a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and that smile with the dimples—it unraveled her completely.
She handed him the glass of water and climbed back into bed. He sat up, downed it in one go, and then let out a loud burp.
“Excuse me,” he said with a laugh. “Guess I’m still drunk.” Another burp slipped out—and then his whole body jolted.
She pretended not to notice, but she definitely had. Desperate to seem normal, she kept talking.
“Yeah, I thought the same. And it’s only seven, so we could just go back to sleep.”
“HUCK! Excuse me. What?”
Her breath caught. The hiccup had been so loud it nearly knocked the words out of her mouth. She forced herself to keep calm.
“It’s only seven,” she repeated, a little louder.
“Really? So we b–barely slept.” Another hiccup shook him mid-sentence, and he tapped his chest with a sigh.
“Mhm. Do you want to try going back to sleep?”
“Maybe, but—huck!” He cleared his throat, grimacing. “Ugh. Hiccups…”
“Aww, my poor boy,” she teased, sliding closer until she was nestled against him.
Another silent jolt rippled through him, shaking the mattress. He smiled, a little flustered, and that only made her melt. He was hot and adorable at the same time, and she could barely stand it. She wrapped her arm around him. He turned onto his side, letting her press close, and she rested her hand on his stomach.
“Mm, this f–feels good,” he murmured, another hiccup rippling through both of them. She felt his tummy pop beneath her palm, the motion carrying through his back as well. To her, it was heaven.
He didn’t even seem to mind them—just let them come, steady and rhythmic, every few seconds. Maybe it was nothing to him, but to her, it was everything. Her pulse was racing, her sex throbbing. She was in her own world, and he had no idea how badly she wanted him.
Then his body lifted differently beneath her hand—he was yawning. She tensed, waiting to see if the hiccups would interrupt.
“HUP!”
The loudest one yet. She nearly shivered.
He chuckled, clearing his throat. “Excuse me. I usually never g-uck! get the hiccups.”
Her face burned with a flush of pleasure she prayed he couldn’t see. Hearing someone talk about hiccups while still hiccupping—it was heaven.
She traced circles on his stomach, trying to sound casual. Her voice came out softer than she intended. “Really? You don’t get them often?”
“Mm-mm,” he hummed, chest vibrating against her. Another sharp jolt cut him off. “HUP! God—” He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Not like this, anyway.”
Not like this? Her curiosity burned, but she bit her lip instead of pressing him. “Guess last night really did a number on you.”
He turned his head just enough for her to see his smile. “Or may-huck! maybe it’s the company.” Another jolt, another sigh. “Jeez.”
She laughed with him, though her heart was pounding for other reasons. “Oh, so you’re blaming me now? Am I making you nervous?” she teased, giving his side a light squeeze.
“Could be.” His tone was playful, but there was something softer underneath it, like he was testing the words. Another hiccup punched out of him, and he groaned. “Ah, man. Hup!—sorry. This is so… not sexy.”
She giggled, kissing the back of his neck and trailing down his spine. His breathing changed under her mouth, and she prayed he’d let her keep going. The hiccups kept coming, steady little jolts that made her smile against his skin.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she murmured, kissing the small of his back. “I think it’s pretty cute.”
He groaned, half embarrassed, half aroused. Another hiccup lifted his ribs under her hand. “Cute? God, that’s not what I—hup!—was going for.”
“Mhm.” She bit gently at his shoulder blade, making him gasp. “Lucky for you, I have a thing for cute.”
He laughed softly—then another hiccup burst out, muffled between his teeth. His whole back vibrated against her lips. He half-turned, eyes darker now, tangled with both need and self-consciousness.
“You’re really—hup!—gonna do this while I…” He trailed off as another hit, and she only smiled, dragging her nails down his stomach.
“What? While you what?” she teased, all innocence, as her hand brushed lower.
He exhaled, voice low and strained. “While I… hiccup like an idiot.”
She grinned, leaning to whisper in his ear: “Maybe I like the way you sound.”
That made him shiver—whether from her words or the hiccup that followed, she couldn’t tell. Probably both.
He turned toward her then, his eyes hungry. Another silent jolt shook his chest, and he cleared his throat, smiling sheepishly.
For a moment, he just looked at her, caught between laughter and desire. Then—“Hmk!”—another hiccup broke through, and he groaned, grinning despite himself. “God—these are relentless.”
She slid her hand up to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum beneath her palm. “I told you,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his collarbone. “I don’t mind.” She giggled softly, kissing higher until she reached his jaw.
He kissed her back, slow and unhurried, but every few seconds another hiccup jolted them apart, and she swallowed the little grunts that came with them. It made her dizzy with want.
And then suddenly he snapped. He grabbed her wrists, pinning her beneath him, hunger written all over his face.
“I need you—HUCK!”
The loud hiccup barely slowed him. He kissed her nipple, and the jolt of pleasure shot straight to her core. She moaned, trembling under him.
“God, I need you too. Don’t stop.”
His tongue circled her nipple, teasing it perfectly. With his mouth open, his next hiccup came out as a loud HOCK! He chuckled shyly against her skin, but seeing her flushed and panting told him she wasn’t about to let hiccups get in the way.
He kissed lower, brushing over her stomach, and she shivered.
“Please,” she moaned.
“Plea-hup! Please what?” he teased.
Her breath caught. “Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
He grinned and kissed further down. A surprised hiccup slipped out when he saw her—soft, glistening, and so wet it made his head spin.
“Wow. I love it,” he whispered before pressing his mouth to her clit.
A muffled hmk! jolted him back, and she nearly came from just that. A whimper broke from her lips, unstoppable.
He slipped two fingers inside her, slow and sure, while his tongue played at her clit.
“HOCK!” The hiccup shook his whole body through his open mouth, breaking his rhythm for a moment, and he laughed against her before carrying on.
The anticipation was maddening. Each hiccup came, then a pause—long enough to wonder if they were gone—before another sudden jolt made him bounce slightly against her. Relentless, just like he’d said. Perfect.
He sat up, still massaging her G-spot with those gentle fingers. Looking at her flushed face, he smiled.
“God, this is so p-huck! perfect.”
The words, the hiccup, the pressure of his fingers—it sent her over the edge harder than she’d ever felt before. Her body tightened around him again and again, and he stayed with her, working her through it.
Normally, that would have been enough. Not this time. She wanted more. Needed him.
He pulled her upright, and for a moment they just looked at each other, smiling, breathing. Another silent hiccup tugged at his throat, and he rolled his eyes. She laughed, pulling him down with her.
He was hard, ready, and he slid into her slowly. She whimpered, shivering, and he moved again, and again. His mouth was by her ear now, his hiccups muffled as he tried to hold them in. The little bursts of air through his nose made her shiver all the more.
But when his own excitement built, he opened his mouth, and the next one punched through. “HUP! Shit, excuse me,” he whispered, not stopping.
It pushed her over again, her whole body shaking as she screamed softly with pleasure. He thrust harder, riding the waves with her until he came too, collapsing against her.
“Wow. That was… something else. HUCK!”
“Still going?” she teased with a giggle.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, rolling onto his back.
“I told you—I don’t mind,” she said with a smile.
“I noticed,” he said, winking.
They were both exhausted, drunk on too little sleep and too much pleasure. She turned onto her side, and he curled against her, his stomach still popping against her back every few seconds. Within minutes, though, his breathing evened out, and she realized his hiccups were finally gone.
Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her too.
i haven't really been active for a bit cause ive been so incredibly busy (and still am, im moving countries guys) but i haven't been able to get smth off my mind and it made me remember something i came up with when rambling about hiccups with my partner!
i find it fascinating how different hiccups are person to person, its such an under appreciated thing to me because its so?? no one persons hiccups are identical to anothers and its beautiful so i made the chart above when me and my partner where talking about headcannons of different characters hiccups!
basically the idea of it is you go through and get letters, ending up with string of letters that is a hiccups type!
for example my own hiccups would be AMQUTJ
idk if this is anything but i think its fun!
soooo drop what your favorite type of hiccups to write or read or whatever would be classified as! mines FILPDE!
Oooh, very good thinking. Excellent chart generally. I do think a number of these are variable within a single case, and enjoying them and being embarrassed by them aren't necessarily mutually exclusive (at least, not in my fantasies). So I think my favorites would be FI()P()J/E, where the two empty parentheses are a smear across all three options for volume and pitch.
So, after a few months or twenty billion years or however long it's been, I finally managed to perform some kind of storyectomy on myself. This is one of the more out there ones, so do take the TWs and kink notices fairly seriously, but I did have fun writing it, and I'm hoping it'll help unclog the drains so I can do a bit more in the near future. We'll see. Anyway, have some pupplay between a girl and her werewolf.
(Honestly, more werewolfy than hiccupy, and they take a while to start, but I tried.)
TW: Dysphoria (mtf), Anxiety
Kinks: Hiccups, transformation, werewolves, puppy play, Actual sex (Focus on dick, getting off, handjob, boob-touching), breeding (fantasized about)
"Okay, we've just had dinner, I've been drinking water all day, I just went to pee, so hopefully I won't need to when...all the stuff happens..."
"I can deal with it if you do, Terri. I'm a nurse, I've cleaned worse."
"Yeah, so I shouldn't make you do more of it."
Terri heard Afsoon sigh, and she could feel her eyes following her as she paced rapidly back and forth in the shared space of their apartment. "You'd think after however many months we've been doing this, you'd be less anxious about it." Exactly seven months tonight, but who was counting?
...Terri. Terri was counting. And she knew for a fact her roommate was too, given that Afsoon had playfully bought her a six-month anniversary cake the last full moon and let her eat the whole thing in preparation.
Given how these nights went, it felt weirdly appropriate.
Terri stopped that thought in its tracks and wrenched her brain away from fantasies of what was going to happen later, away from her gorgeous, chubby roommate in her pretty fucking nightgown who was way too fucking calm for where she knew this was going, and away from wanting to kiss and/or lick her, given that the fucking sun was barely out of the sky. No. None of that. She forced her thoughts back to her checklist. Ropes? No. She didn't do that anymore. No muzzling either. Afsoon insisted after the second month. No tranquilizers. Those had been the first thing to go. When Afsoon found out what she was doing with them, Terri was half surprised she didn't turn into a horrifying monster out of sheer rage.
...that wasn't funny. But for some reason, those jokes kept finding their way from Afsoon's lips into Terri's head anyway.
Lock all the doors? Done. Put away any breakables? Done. Prepare, um...implements? That was, uh...that was Afsoon's job. She'd take care of that as necessary. Just thinking about it made Terri's face burn.
Finally tell the full truth?
...no.
The shame balled up in her gut as she knew she wasn't going to do that tonight. She wasn't going to do it any night. And it wasn't like she'd lied. She'd never intended to. It was just...
It was complicated.
"Hey." Afsoon's hand landed on her shoulder, and Terri whipped around, a bit of drool ending up on her cheek as she realized that her teeth and tongue were crowding the inside of her mouth. "It's okay." Afsoon's voice was soft and kind, and she stared at Terri with warm, brown eyes. "Deep breaths, Ter. Deep breaths." Despite the tension in her chest and her thoughts sinking heavier into her mind, Terri shut her eyes tight and forced herself to inhale, slowly and carefully, before it coughed and shuddered unsteadily out of her. "Good. Again." Afsoon breathed deeply and demonstratively, and even with her eyes shut, Terri could hear the way the air flowed through her, feel her body's position subtly change through their touch, just barely smell the mint of her toothpaste. Her face ached. Her body ached. She breathed. "Good girl. Just keep breathing."
"U'm—" Terri tried to speak, the pronoun swallowed by the changing shape of her mouth. "U'm showrr—"
"Shhh. Shh shh shh. It's okay." Afsoon pulled her into her arms, even though Terri knew she must have been drooling onto her shoulder, and she could feel herself growing against her, feel her bones shifting and creaking inside of her body. "You're clinging to yourself, Terri. I know it's hard. I know it's hard to let go. But it's okay. It's safe. I promise, I'll catch you."
Her brain was getting foggier and foggier, and even though Terri was pretty sure she'd said this before, she wasn't certain, and she needed to be sure Afsoon knew. "N-Noh wowried abough me—"
"I know, Terri, I know. But you don't have to worry about me either. Trust me. I've handled far more belligerent patients than you."
She knew what those words meant. She knew she did. But right now, she couldn't grasp them. They were somewhere far away inside of her brain. It always happened so much faster than she was ready for. But she could hear the smirk in Afsoon's voice. The confidence. And she could feel her grip on her tighten, not painfully, almost comfortingly, reminding Terri of Afsoon's strong, well padded muscles in contrast to her own atrophied ones. "Hhhh...hhhhhh...!" She tried to figure out how to say...something. Anything. Whatever it was that she was supposed to say.
"I know. I know. It's okay, Terri. It's okay. Come on, let's come down to the floor here. I know being up on the furniture makes you nervous while you're still changing." Long nails trailed and combed through her hair, briefly scratching behind one of Terri's slowly growing, moving ears. Terri huffed. She didn't mean to, but she did. And when Afsoon knelt down, she fell instinctively onto all fours and didn't even try to stay up. "Good girl. Yeah, that's my clever girl." Good girl. Those words sent a shiver down her spine. A wrong sort of shiver. She could feel herself growing in all the wrong ways. Something was clinging to her. Something was on her body. Something— "Ready to get those clothes off, huh?"
Clothes. Right. Clothes. Fuck, how had she forgotten so quickly? She couldn't let Afsoon see her like this. Naked, scared, halfway through her disgusting transformation. She couldn't— "Hey. I hear you thinking in there." A tap to her forehead made Terri open her eyes for the first time in a while. Afsoon looked into her, but it wasn't scary. It wasn't dominant. At least, not in a cruel way. It still made Terri feel like she was under control, though. "It's okay, Terri. We've done this before, we'll do it again. Now let me help you get your shirt off, okay?"
Terri nodded. It took her a moment to remember how to do that, but she did it. She nodded. Her head was heavier than before. Especially the front of it. Afsoon reached over her and grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling the neck up and over her head before carefully running it down her arms, helping Terri take out one hand, then the other. If you could still call them hands. The fingers thickening and shortening. The nails elongating into claws. "Okay, we can wait on the skirt and panties since I know you hate that part. Let me get your bra, though. You always get uncomfortable with it once the fur really starts growing in."
Bra...the thing still on her chest. She wore those now. Terri tried to lift her arms to hide her breasts, but her sense of balance was gone and she fell forward, only stopped from hitting the floor by Afsoon catching her. "Nope. Mostly a quadruped now, remember? Stay on the ground. Only one paw up at a time." Terri growled. She wasn't sure why, and she immediately lowered her head and whimpered apologetically, but Afsoon laughed, and Terri realized that it was a joke. A playful growl. A conversation they had again and again about calling her hands and feet "paws" before they were actually fully like that. Breath huffed out of her in a laugh too, as much as she could. Half-laugh, half-growl. "Yeah yeah, I know." Afsoon's voice was playful too, and she touched at Terri's back—at her bra, right—and unhitched it, letting it fall forward off of her arms so she could step out of it one paw—one hand at a time.
"*hrnk!*" Fuck, it was starting. It was starting. This always happened. She knew this always happened. But even so, something inside of Terri started to panic while something outside of her started to grow. "*HRNK-rrlk!* Nnnnhhh!" She whined as her stomach jolted outward, still just a bit overstuffed with food, which somewhere far away she knew was being rapidly digested to feed the transformation into the beast. But much more important, she lowered her head down and curled in on herself, trying to hide that...thing between her legs. Arms in. Head down. Tail in. Tail...what there was of her tail. She didn't know how much of it there was yet. "*HRNK-llk!* RRrrrrrhhhhh...!" she whined, writhing with shame and fear and confusion and frustration and—
"Breathe, Terri. Breathe." There was a hand on her back. Warm. The pressure slightly muted. Not skin to skin right now. Still good though. "As best you can, anyway. I know you've got the hiccups." That word! Every bit of Terri stood on end as her whole body pulsed and she whined. "I know, Terri. I know. And that's okay. There's nothing to be worried or ashamed about. It might make breathing a bit harder, but I still need you to try and do it for me, alright?"
A nod. She forced herself to nod again. Her chin was to the ground, so it barely worked. Terri would show her instead. She forced air in a stuttering, staccato pace into her lungs, interrupted by another hiccup that made her muscles twitch, then exhaled it out in much the same way. "Again." Afsoon's voice was commanding, but kind, and Terri breathed again. In, hiccup, out, hiccup. Afsoon kept rubbing her back, the gentle pressure so comforting, not flinching even as she bounced back against it. "Keep going, Terri. You're doing such a good job tonight." Good. She was doing good. Her tail wagged. "Yeah. Exactly like that. Good girl."
Good girl.
Terri's body melted against Afsoon, still whimpering and hiccuping as she continued to change, but the panic easing out of her. The anxiety wasn't gone, but it was getting further away. Especially with the kind hums above her as she laid her head in Afsoon's lap and the feeling of her nails as they kept combing through her growing fur. Something in her said she should feel guilty about enjoying this so much. But that something got harder and harder to reach as she changed. And soon, Terri's focus was pulled out of her thoughts and into her body, moving from breath to breath, and waiting from hiccup to hiccup.
Terri half barked at her hiccups, and she heard giggling above her. Afsoon's nails were still combing over her. "Aww, poor thing. You're calming down now though. That's so good." Of course she was calm. Why wouldn't she be? Everything was the way it was supposed to be. Her belly wasn't hungry. She would like more food, she always would, but there was no yawning chasm inside like there used to be. The person she liked most was touching her. She had the hiccups, and that made her feel really good. Though, now that she thought about it, something was keeping her dick trapped close to her body, and she squirmed against it and tried to kick at whatever that was. "Finally ready to get the skirt and panties off, huh?" The voice above her was warm, amused, and so familiar. So familiar and so so so beloved. Terri leaned up and lapped her tongue across Afsoon's face to make sure that she knew. Afsoon laughed more. "Hahaha, okay, okay. Let me help you out, big girl."
Girl. Terri felt her tail wagging. Somewhere far away, she sort of understood the words. She knew generally what Afsoon was going to do and knew how to move as she pulled those cloth things off of her waist and out from her legs, leaving her free and naked to wriggle against the soft, carpeted ground. But for reasons she didn't fully understand, "girl" was one of her favorite words. Right next to "good" and "food" and—"*HRK-rrk!* Hhrrrrrr..."
She heard more of Afsoon's beautiful laugh and felt her warm hands on her belly, rubbing roughly through her fur and making Terri writhe happily underneath her. "Hiccup hiccup, huh, Terri?" Hearing the words, Terri writhed more, whining and yipping between the noises that kept coming out of her. "Yeeaaaah. Poor girl. You got the hiccups pretty bad, don'tcha? I can feel how bouncy they are inside of your tummy." She patted her hands firmly against Terri's stomach, tapping out a beat, a concept that she wasn't sure why she knew, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that she kept hiccuping and Afsoon kept rubbing her tummy, her hands pressing firmly against it whenever it bounced, and that pressure pulsing downward from her belly and into her cock, which was dribbling already into her fur. "All that changing does some weird things to your diaphragm, huh? I guess we're pretty lucky that's not a problem for you."
"*HRK-glk* Hhrrrrrrr–*RRK!*" Terri whined and tried to curl up, trying to use her frontmost paws like she knew she did sometimes, like she knew she could do just like Afsoon did, but her body didn't bend the way that she meant it to, her dick far out of reach. Even so, the motions of her belly made her dick twitch, and looking up at Afsoon didn't help. Terri's tongue hungrily lolled out of her mouth, and she huffed desperately at her.
"Awww. Terri's got the hiiiic-cups~" Afsoon would sing sometimes. Mostly longer, softer songs. But that little, tiny one was always Terri's favorite and least favorite. Her whole body curled in and she whined, trying to hide her face in her paws as her hips helplessly thrust against nothing. "You do! You've got the hiccups, Terri!" Afsoon gave her tummy a few rough scratches through the fur, her hand bouncing right along with it as she hiccuped. Her other hand moved higher up, starting to rub and press into Terri's chest, finding the strange, soft parts she'd been growing. Teats? For some reason, Terri had teats now?
Whyever that was, they were incredibly sensitive, and she whimpered, her tail wagging so hard that it was slapping Afsoon's legs as she knelt to her side to keep petting her torso. "You're such a silly, hiccupy girl." Terri's tail wagged even faster, and Afsoon moved up so she could take Terri's face and gently squish it between her hands, roughly playing with it. "Yes you are," her voice took on a slight growl as she played more, grinning down at her. "You're my silly, hiccupy little puppy." Terri whined and barked up at her, though her bark was cut off by a hiccup that made her whine more, and Afsoon laughed. Her smile then softened, and the way she gazed down at Terri made her almost forget that her hiccups or anything else in the world existed, just staring up at her. "I can't believe that you thought I should be afraid of you. Of course you're just as sweet like this, Terri. Of course you are."
After a moment, Afsoon leaned over, wrapping her arms around Terri's shoulders (to the extent that was what she had), and moving her full body over her bouncing chest and belly, letting a bit of her weight rest on her as she nuzzled in. Terri huffed softly and wrapped her legs around her as best she could, a small frustrated growl catching between her hiccups. She knew that this was supposed to be easier, and that it was easier sometimes, but when she was like that she never actually tried to hug her. She let out a few small barks and snarls that her hiccups mostly let her get away with, tail thumping with annoyance at the version of her that could never tell Afsoon a single thing, even though she was the one with the voice.
"Hey, you okay?" Afsoon lifted her head off of Terri's chest and looked down at her, running a hand over her furry cheek. For lack of a better way to say that she was, Terri tilted her head up and lapped at Afsoon's face again, making her laugh. "O-hokay, okay. I'm glad to hear it, you goober." She wrapped her hands around her face and gave her ears a few scritches before pushing herself up to kneel by her side again. "Still pretty hiccupy though, huh?" Terri hiccuped to answer, it coming out louder than most of them, and she wriggled and tried to hide her face again. "Yeah," Afsoon giggled, rubbing her tummy again. "I bet you're thinking about getting rid of 'em, huh?" Terri's tail started wagging faster, and she felt her cock twitch as Afsoon said that, her hands moving up to rub over her sensitive chest again. "Well then," Afsoon's face curled into a smirk. "How about I go and get you a nice, cool bowl of water so you can—"
"GROUF! *HRK!*" Terri barked at Afsoon, who burst out laughing. Seeing her laugh, Terri just barked more, rolling onto her feet for the first time and shaking herself off so she could get right in her face. That wasn't how Terri wanted to cure her hiccups and she knew it! "rr–*hrk*–rrrraugh raof! *HK-rrk!*" She dipped her head to try and shove it under Afsoon's bowed chin and force herself into her line of sight.
After some more laughter, Afsoon playfully shoved her away. Terri was always caught off guard by how much stronger Afsoon was than her, even though she was so much bigger. "Okay, okay, I know what you mean." Afsoon sighed, then knelt up and shoved Terri again, pushing her more gently onto her side, then rolling her onto her back again, her legs falling open along with her mouth, breath coming out in huffs between her hiccups, and leaving her chest and belly completely open and bouncing for anyone to see. Terri's tail started wagging harder at that possibility, her face warming under her fur. "I know what you mean, Terri." Afsoon moved from looming over her to laying by Terri's side, and Terri looked over to see her, watching her lean on one hand while rubbing the other up and down her chest and belly. "Never realized this was going to be part of the job description when you told me you turned into an 'evil beast' once a month." Terri growled and huffed, rolling her eyes at the memory and the knowledge of saying and thinking those things. Afsoon's smile got a little...warmer, but somehow also meaner, and her hand went lower. "Not that I'm complaining." She wrapped around Terri's shaft, and Terri whimpered between her hiccups. "At least I get to do this with some part of you."
Afsoon spoke so softly. Terri wasn't sure she realized that she could still hear her. She'd heard it before, and it always made her sad and frustrated and so so so determined to do something about it once she could talk again, and even though she was the other her, she could still never fucking understand why she didn't actually do the thing she wanted to do! All those worries, all those thoughts, all those words and words and words all the goddamn time, so many that they even infected her when she was like this! Like now! She didn't want words, she wanted—
At the first stroke, Terri let out a high-pitched combination of whines and hiccups, and all those stupid thoughts started floating away as she pulled back into her body again. Her hiccupy body with a bouncy belly and sensitive teats along with her cock, so hard it was starting to ache. She wriggled, and Afsoon's laughter just made her wriggle more, bouncing again and again with every hiccup. "Yeah, you really like it, huh, cutie?" Afsoon moved to sit up again, using the hand that wasn't stroking Terri off to scratch her behind the ears before drifting around the side of her head, along her neck, then down to her soft, swollen chest. Terri writhed, then yelped when Afsoon's fingers tripped over one of her nipples. "Oh shoot, you oka—" Terri thrust her hips harder into Afsoon's hand, trying to somehow push her chest and her cock up towards her at once, even though her hiccuping belly kept straightening her out again. She heard more of Afsoon's wonderful laugh. "Okay, glad to hear it, Ter. But let me know if you need me to stop, okay?" Just the opposite. Terri never wanted this to stop. She wanted Afsoon to keep touching and rubbing her and for her body to stay warm and big and hungry and hiccupy forever, to just stay like this.
...well, maybe not just like this. Maybe her teats would keep growing. Maybe her belly would get bigger too. Maybe the reason this had happened was Afsoon had somehow put a litter of pups into her. She had no idea how that'd be possible, but if anyone could figure out how, it would be her. Or maybe she could turn Afsoon over and fill her up with puppies instead. She dreamed about that all the time, breeding with her, being on top of her, her body not able to stop hiccuping with excitement as she filled her to the brim, and maybe Afsoon hiccuping under her too, under her spell, feeling good like she did some nights. Afsoon hadn't let her yet, but Terri wanted so bad to make her feel good too, to lick up the juices between her thick thighs, to drink in the smell of her, to learn every part of her soft chubby body and just—
"*HRK!*–HHHhhrrrr!" Fuck, she was so close. Fuck, Terri had gotten so close so fast. She hadn't even realized it, and she writhed against the ground, growling and snapping and kicking her legs as she tried to thrust further into the warmth of Afsoon's hand. "*HN-nrrk!* hrrrRRUFF! Gurrugh! *HUK!*" Her barking let a hiccup come out completely unmuffled, sounding halfway like another yelp between her snarls, and her quick breath made her hiccups start to come faster and faster.
"Good girl, Terri." Afsoon's soft voice made her whimper and whine, and when Terri looked up at her, the way she was smiling at her made her whine even more.
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you
If only her stupid stupid stupid other self would actually tell her that!
Terri tried to make her know the only way she knew how, flipping over and climbing over Afsoon. Afsoon yelped, clearly surprised by that, and for once Terri managed to overpower her, getting on top and licking her face all over, her hips continuing to thrust against nothing. She didn't care. Even as she was hiccuping and humping, it didn't matter one one-billionth as much as trying to let Afsoon know how much she loved her.
Or, at least, that's how she meant it to be. But when Afsoon lifted a leg underneath her, Terri's out of control hips brushed her cock against Afsoon's clothed knee, and that was enough and too much, leaving her hiccuping tightly as her whole body tensed, and her hips couldn't stop rocking as she finally came, spurting lines of white all over Afsoon's beautiful body.
All the thoughts were trying to come back into Terri's head, even though she couldn't even start to understand them. She whimpered and whined, back curling, hackles raising, good feelings overwhelming, but bad feelings forcing themselves into her through the cracks. But then there was a hand against her face again. "Hey. Hey, Terri, hey." Terri opened her eyes and saw Afsoon smiling softly up at her, and a small whimper coughed and hiccuped out of her. "Hey. It's okay, Terri. It's okay. You were a very good girl."
Good girl.
Terri just melted over Afsoon at those words, flopping down on top of her. She heard the "Oof!" underneath her, but didn't want to get up. "O-okay, okay, hang on, Terri. Let me clean us both up first at least." Afsoon gently rolled her over, walking away, then coming back with a warm, wet washcloth, which she started running over Terri's sticky belly. Terri growled and grumbled, feeling the water seep down to her skin. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'll try and dry you off too. Just let me get changed."
God, Terri was so tired.
Why wouldn't she just sleep during the day? This was the only time that she could be like this, why wouldn't she just fucking—
Afsoon came back before she could get too deep into her frustration. "Tuckered out already?" Terri weakly "rrrRuff"-ed up at her. "Yeah, that makes sense. Well, I'm not just letting you go to sleep on the floor. hhhhHup!" She made a sound almost like a hiccup that made Terri do something like groaning as Afsoon picked her up from the ground. "Hwoof. You're getting heavier, big girl." Terri whined. "Don't worry, that's a good thing. You were too thin, and you're building your muscle mass back up. Might mean that you'll have to get better at walking yourself pretty soon, though."
Even though she said that, Afsoon managed to haul Terri over to her bed. It smelled like Afsoon. Terri was so glad that she let her stay here these nights. She watched Afsoon get changed, and she hiccuped a few times at seeing her naked. She wished that she'd stay that way. Wished she'd let her see her like that for longer. But she didn't complain when she didn't. Because once Afsoon was redressed, she would join her in bed, cuddling up to her and burying her face in her fur. "You're such a good girl, Terri," she said, her voice heavy and soft. Terri nosed down at her to sneak a small lick to her face, and Afsoon giggled. "You're such a good girl." She paused with a yawn. It was never long after she laid down that Afsoon went to sleep. "I love you so much, Terri." Terri whined and nosed more, and Afsoon laughed softly and looked up at her. "I know. I know, Terri." Her warm, brown eyes made Terri's heart thump in her chest. "I know you love me too." The smile on her face got sadder, though, and she hid her face more completely in Terri's fur. "I just wish that you'd remember it whenever I say that."
She did though.
Terri did remember.
The first time that she woke up after Afsoon took care of her, Afsoon had told her (with more than a little embarrassment for both of them) how the night had gone, and Terri had been horrified to realize that, without the drugs in her system, she remembered every moment of it.
And she loved every moment of it.
She loved feeling simple and cared for and free. She loved wanting her fully, without any reservation. She loved being in her body, being nothing but instinct and pleasure, with nothing but warmth and safety to spend herself on.
Terri hated words when she was like this. Words were what made her hate herself every other night of the month. Words were what made everything so complicated and bad. But she knew she loved some words. And she knew that she needed them. So as her body fell towards sleep along with Afsoon, she made her mind say them again and again, so that maybe tomorrow she'd listen.
Tell her. Tell her tell her tell her tell her tell her.
And even though she hated words so much, the possibility that she might actually listen was enough to make her sleep happy and last through the night.
Finally! FINALLY it's complete! Honestly had a blast writing these guys again! Turns out listening to EPlC did get the inspiration flowing again!
Our characters for today are TeIemachus and Dorian and a little cameo from Copper too!
Just a quick note; this story occurs further down the current timeline. Let's say...they're about to graduate with their bachelor's degrees in this one.
Ingredients: hiccups, hiccups kink, hiccups in public, multiple people hiccuping, arousal, playful teasing, fluff
And without further ado, I give you the story! Enjoy!
TeIemachus slowly fluttered his eyes open, his senses quickly getting overwhelmed by the scent of breakfast being cooked. He groaned as he slowly sat up with a yawn and a stretch. Rubbing his eyes with his fist, he removed the covers from his body, instantly shivering from the cold February air.
Quickly, he grabbed his fuzzy purple house coat, wrapping it around himself. He headed to the bathroom, taking care of his business, before going to investigate what was going on in the kitchen.
“Dori?” His voice rasped as it normally did in the mornings.
The person in question startled and turned around, trying to hide the stove from view.
“Telly! My love! What…what are you doing up? So early?” Dorian squeaked, visibly holding up a spatula, but hid it behind their back once they realized.
TeIemachus couldn't help but giggle slightly at the sight, petting Copper's head when she'd trotted over to him.
“I just woke up,” TeIemachus shrugged, brushing his hair back, “what're you up to?”
“I was gonna surprise you,” Dorian slumped and pouted.
“Oh, sorry,” TeIemachus smiled sheepishly. He walked over, hugging them, “you're cooking? Without burning the apartment down?”
“Shut up,” Dorian gently nudged him teasingly, kissing his cheek, “good morning, sunshine.”
“Morning, blue,” TeIemachus smiled and softly kissed their lips. “Sorry for kinda ruining your surprise.”
“Hey, don't worry about it,” Dorian smirked and pecked his lips, “breakfast isn't the only surprise I have in store for you.”
“Oh?” TeIemachus raised an eyebrow, stroking their arm, “well, what else do you have in store for me?”
“Well, that would really ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?” Dorian booped TeIemachus’ nose.
“Mmm, I guess you're right,” TeI shrugged, then sniffed softly, “oh, might wanna check on that breakfast-”
Dorian's face fell, “shit!” They turned to flip over the pancake just in time.
TeIemachus sat down at the breakfast bar, using his phone as a means for distraction so he didn't distract his partner again. Dorian placed the plate of red velvet pancakes that were somewhat heart shaped. They were decorated with whipped cream and sliced strawberries. Only then did it seem to register in TeIemachus’ mind.
“Happy Valentine's Day!” He shouted.
Dorian chuckled, “there you go, sweetie.” They wrapped their arms around him, “Happy Valentine's Day to you too.”
Tel leaned into their hug with a smile. How could he not realize it was one of his favorite holidays ever since he started dating Dorian.
Every year, they would alternate planning dates for each other, and this year was Dorian's turn. TeIemachus loved spoiling Dorian, but also enjoyed being spoiled by Dorian. And judging by the smug grin on Dorian's face while they were eating off their own plate, TeIemachus could tell this year was bound to be a great celebration.
Usually, Dorian didn't bother with Valentine's Day. They'd always thought it was another way to get people separated from their money. It was too commercialized and there was always too much pressure to perform. They always felt bad for the people who were grieving lost loved ones or the single people out there. To an extent, he still did feel bad for them. But since dating TeIemachus, he'd seen Valentine's Day in a new light. There wasn't much pressure to please because whatever they planned, TeIemachus enjoyed it. It didn't have to be a big extravagant thing.
However, this year was different.
Once breakfast was done, Dorian and TeIemachus went up to get dressed for the day. Dorian picked out a cute pink outfit. Black top with a black cardigan over it, long pink pleated skirt, a pink choker, and a pink beret. (Ever since that trip to the mall for Riddy's birthday years ago, they'd made sure to buy plenty of skirts and dresses since they were comfortable in them.) TeIemachus wore a red outfit. He was layered with a white tee shirt, gray zipped-up jacket, and a red zip-up hoodie that remained unzipped. He threw on some black jeans and styled his hair in the mirror, putting the top half in a ponytail. He put on his piercings and sat on the bed, waiting for Dorian to finish.
“You go ahead, Telly, I'll be right there,” Dorian assured him as they went through their jewelry box to search for the perfect gauge earrings to pick.
“Oh, I don't mind waiting,” TeIemachus shrugged and swung his legs back and forth innocently.
“Copper needs to be fed,” Dorian said, turning to his boyfriend, “you mind going down and feeding her?”
TeIemachus gasped dramatically, instantly standing up, “are you trying to starve our baby?”
“No, that's why I told you,” Dorian smirked.
TeIemachus shook his head and hurried out the door. Dorian sighed in relief before pulling out the black ring box that was hidden in their underwear drawer. They opened it up and smiled at the beautiful silver ring with a diamond in the middle. On the inside, it said ‘♡ for forever -D’ in fancy lettering. It was engraved by none other than their guncle Otto, who had freaked out about the news. They both kind of squealed over the idea of a proposal. Smiling at the memory, they quickly hid the box in the inner pocket of their cardigan.
Looking into the mirror, they took a breath, “you've got this, Dorian.”
They nodded to themself before heading to the kitchen. They smiled at witnessing TeIemachus giving Copper some much deserved tummy rubs after she'd eaten her second breakfast.
“Hey,” Dorian greeted with a wave.
“Oh, hey!” TeIemachus beamed, “you look amazing.”
Dorian blushed and smirked, “only second to you, Tel.”
TeIemachus stood up and walked over to Dorian, “careful, I might just ruin your makeup with words like that.”
“What? Mess up this lipstick? It's smear-proof,” Dorian smirked and kissed TeIemachus's lips to prove it, “see?”
“I do,” Tel grabbed them by the collar of their cardigan, “but just to make sure.”
He kissed Dorian again, gently guiding them to the counter, wrapping his arms around their waist.
Before the two of them could get too distracted, Dorian's alarm rang, meaning it was time to go so they wouldn't be late.
Their first stop was a spa treatment. Mani-pedis and a deep tissue massage kept them both relaxed and refreshed. While TeIemachus had chosen a clear nail polish for his nails, Dorian went for a pink and red alternating pattern.
Next was lunch at TeIemachus’ favorite restaurant: Gyros n’ More. Tel enjoyed himself a delicious gyro while Dorian just ordered a salad, saving their appetite for the dinner they had planned.
After a lovely lunch, Dorian and TeIemachus went back to the apartment, leashed up Copper, and together, they all took a walk around the park near the apartment. TeIemachus had his arm looped into Dorian's as he rested his head on their shoulder. Dorian held onto the leash as Copper happily trotted along, smelling new smells as she styled her cute little sweater.
And then it was time for dinner. Dorian had taken TeIemachus to a fancy Chinese restaurant that had some famous chef's name written all over it. They got to their table and sat across from each other in a smaller booth. Everything was going according to plan and Tel didn't suspect a thing.
They ordered their food, Dorian getting a Sichuan Boiled Fish and TeIemachus getting classic chicken tenders. Dorian playfully teased him for it, making them both laugh.
Their food arrived rather quickly despite it being crazy busy due to the holiday.
TeIemachus and Dorian traded food to taste, however TeIemachus was unprepared for how spicy Dorian's meal was.
“Oh, Telly, I'm so sorry,” Dorian frowned and handed him some of their water.
TeIemachus coughed and took the water, gulping it down with tearful eyes. The water didn't stop the burning in his throat.
“It's so huck! hot!” TeIemachus cried as he fanned himself, holding his tongue out. “How can you hulp! eat that?”
Dorian took a little more than a second to respond to the question, “uh, I dunno, guess I'm just used to the heat. You, um…you okay?”
TeIemachus whimpered as he wiped his tear-filled eyes, “yeah, yeah, total-hlk!-ly…huck!-uh, feels like I'm dy-hingk! dying from fire hup!-augh!”
Dorian felt blood flowing to their cheeks as well as other places when they'd noticed TeIemachus’ continued hiccups. It had been months since his last hiccup. It had been a single, so not a full blown case. Still, they were shocked at this revelation.
As TeIemachus started to choke, hiccups firing off after every cough, Dorian shook his head free of distractions and called the waiter over. They requested some milk or ice cream to help alleviate the heat.
“Telly?” Dorian's voice cracked, so they cleared it, “you doing okay? The, um, the waiter's going to get you some ice cream or milk or something to help.”
TeIemachus nodded, his head jolting back with another hiccup. “Goo-ulk!-good. That was s-hip!-so ho-ock!-uh, hot hup'k! It ga--gave me the hic-HICK!-uh, hiccups.”
Dorian's eyes widened at their boyfriend's smirk. TeIemachus knew exactly what he was doing. The waiter returned with a dish of vanilla ice cream. TeIemachus thanked him before quickly scooping the cold treat into his mouth and letting it sit on his tongue.
Dorian observed the now muffled hiccups that were making Tel jump in his seat. They bit the bottom of their lip as their leg bounced.
He squeaked though when they felt TeIemachus grab their leg, take his sandal off, and put his foot right against his stomach. The next couple of jolts sent pulses of pleasure through them and Dorian had to hold back their vocal chords.
TeIemachus smiled, despite still feeling the heat, “m-mk!-might as well-hickulk! take advantage w--while we can hngkolp!”
TeIemachus scooped up some more ice cream and placed it into his mouth, relishing the coldness hitting his tongue.
Dorian was quite speechless as every word he tried to say caught in his throat in helpless whimpers.
TeIemachus’ hiccups remained, even after the dinner was over and the two of them were enjoying one last walk around the park. Dorian held onto Tel's hand as they walked, observing the way he'd started muffling his hiccups and looking around if one accidentally slipped out.
“Gosh, you're adorable like this,” Dorian whispered and kissed his cheek.
TeIemachus blushed, “shut hmk'mm! up.”
“Hehe, what? No more teasing?” Dorian smirked, but seeing TeIemachus’ tired expression gave them all the answer they needed. “Ah, they've overstayed their welcome.”
TeIemachus nodded, the action interrupted by a hard “holk!” that made him wince and rub at his chest. Dorian gently moved to rub his stomach, trying to ease the pain. TeIemachus smiled slightly in appreciation, “tha–anks, hun.”
“Of course,” Dorian kissed his forehead.
“M'sorry hulmpk! these aren't fu-uck!-fun anym-hup!-uh, anymore heekolp!” TeIemachus frowned, now covering his mouth.
“Don't you worry your pretty little head about that,” Dorian shook his head.
As they continued walking, Dorian noted they were getting closer to The Spot. TeIemachus' hiccups still hadn't let up. Dorian was getting anxious about what they'd set out to do. What if TeIemachus thought it was too soon? What if he said no? What if he broke up with them because of this? What if-
“HUP!HUCK!HICKUH!”
TeIemachus's eyes widened in shock as he turned to Dorian. “Dori-hick!?”
“So-HAUK!-gmmp!-ugh, scu-ickup!-scuse m-hm'mp!hmp!HIMPK!-gee--eez,” Dorian patted their own chest at the quicker than usual onslaught.
It was the nerves, of course it was. They were surprised the hiccups hadn't started earlier.
“Did you just hup! give yourse--elf h-hiccups through shee-heegulk!-sheer wil-hlk!-uh, willpower?” TeIemachus raised an eyebrow.
“Di-hick!HIUP!-didn't wan-HICK'ul!-want you hup!KUP! feeling a-HAULP!-gah, alone. hick!-ah-HIP!HU'UCK!HICK!-fu--ck!” Dorian couldn't even joke around with these. Usually, they found the spontaneity of their hiccups to be fun. But now that they'd arrived at The Spot, he needed to get rid of them so he could say words.
The Spot was at a gazebo lit up with fairy lights with a pond nearby. The crickets could be heard harmonizing their chirps. Fireflies lit up the pond as well.
At his next “HIGGOLP!-HUCK'L!HIMPK!-ugh,” Dorian requested a break to sit for a while. TeIemachus of course accepted and they both took a seat, hiccups popping out of both of them, Dorian's faster than TeIemachus’, but neither of them were racing.
Dorian offered TeIemachus to feel their hiccups. They were in a private enough area and if any stragglers walked over, a chest or tummy rub to “ease discomfort” was normal enough.
They were stronger than usual, TeIemachus noticed. Every rise of their chest was sharp and sounded like it knocked the wind out of them. He started rubbing their chest.
“You n-ngk!-need to cur-huerk!-cure these,” TeIemachus said.
“No HOUP!HUG'K!ulk!-mm que-HIUP!-mph-hm'MULK!-uh,” Dorian abandoned whatever they were going to say and held their breath.
TeIemachus watched curiously, muffling his own hiccups in the process. His foot was steadily tapping on the wooden floor of the gazebo. He watched as the hiccups continued, muffled, but still loud and strong. TeIemachus furrowed his brows in confusion. Holding their breath always cured Dorian.
Dorian looked just as concerned when they exhaled with a huff when he couldn't hold it anymore. Not even a second later, another cluster hit them and Dorian dragged a hand down his face.
“This is hup'k! not how I hickup!hickULP!-uh want--ted this to--o go HULP!UP!HU'UP!…HEEK!-ugh!” Dorian slumped, immediately jolting straight up with another strong hiccup.
“Aw, hon-nk!,” TeIemachus frowned and pulled them in closer to comfort them, “I'm still-ilk! having a goo-hoolk!-good time with y--ou, hic-kulp!-s or not.”
Dorian huffed, then hiccupped, then groaned in frustration, “I don't hup!HUP!-grmp!-ugh, want t--nglk!ULP!-uff, to have hauk!hulp'k!IP!HICKOLP!-ughhhh-holp!-hh the hiccups right n--gmp!-now.”
“Well that's a fir-hulgk!-first,” TeIemachus stroked their hair, “I wonder why hold--ing your breath didn't work-uck!”
“Nerves,” Dorian bit their lip and looked away from TeIemachus's eyes.
“You're nerv-uck!-nervous?” TeIemachus caressed his cheek and guided their face to look at his. “Dori, it's ok--kay, it's ju-ulk!-just you and hickulk! me.”
“I-huck!hup!HIUP!-I kn-hngk!-know, jus-s'hippup!-just HOLP!-” they sighed, their dual-colored eyes looking into TeIemachus's worried brown ones.
It was now or never, Dorian decided and pulled out the ring box from the hidden pocket in their cardigan. TeIemachus spotted the ring box and his eyes widened. He covered his mouth with both hands and started trembling as his eyes watered.
“Dorian…”
“I, um hickup! had this hip!HU'UH!-uh, all-hu'gulk! planned out HULP! You see-heek!ULP!, we're b--by the wa-hauk!UP!hi'auk!-uh-hip!-the water,” Dorian took an interrupted breath before continuing, “I was hickup!ULP! go-hing to use my hmmk! powers to spe--spell hickulk!HOLP! out ‘will h'kcup!hilp!HOLP!-ugh, will you hoolk! marry me?’ us-ing! the wa--aulk!-” they swallowed as that particular one almost choked them, “water, but I can't hic'KUP!HUUUP!-uhhh, use my pow-w'hip!hick!houp!-powers while I'm hiccup-ULP!-ing like this, so-hock!holp!…I guess hip'KUH!huck!HU’UH!-”
TeIemachus interrupted them with a sniffling nod and a kiss on their lips. Dorian's eyes widened with so much joy before they closed. He kissed him back, placing a hand in his hair. They pulled him in closer, their breaths synchronizing. Dorian smiled into the kiss, gently pulling away, “is that a yes?”
TeIemachus sniffled and nodded his head, giggling, “yes, obviously yes! I would love to marry you! I love you so much!”
“I love you so much too,” Dorian smiled widely and hugged TeIemachus close.
TeIemachus hugged them back, happy tears still flowing down his face. Dorian's eyes were quick to follow.
After they released their hug, Dorian opened the ring box, showing TeIemachus the ring and the engraving on the inside. TeIemachus couldn't stop smiling as Dorian put it on his finger.
He squealed, “it's the perfect fit. And it's beautiful, Dori, I love it, I love you.”
TeIemachus cupped their face and pulled them in for another soft kiss. Dorian kissed back, smiling happily.
They were getting married! This was becoming real!
“I promised guncle Otto a pic,” Dorian sniffled and wiped a tear–but not his eyeliner, that was waterproof.
TeIemachus chuckled wetly, “gosh, I know I look a mess. How are you still so perfect?”
Dorian giggled and pulled out his phone, “you still look perfect to…me, wait…”
Their eyebrows furrowed a bit and TeIemachus caught on, “oh my gosh…our hiccups…they're gone!”
“Which means I can do…this!”
With a little effort and concentration, he used the water from the nearby pond and spelled out the words ‘Will you marry me?’ Dorian smiled at TeIemachus, who smiled back.
“That's incredible, Dorian,” TeIemachus rested his head on their shoulder, arms wrapped around their arm. “The answer's still yes, by the way.”
“I know,” Dorian chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Now, I know the perfect backdrop for our- oh, wait…meh, it's guncles Otto and Atticus, they can handle it. I trust them.”
“And if they can't, we could always say we edited the pic to had water-like words,” TeIemachus suggested.
Dorian chuckled and nodded, kissing his cheek. The two of them posed, TeIemachus making sure the ring was in the frame. They took two selfies, first without the water and the other with the water spelling out ‘HE SAID YES!’
After sending the latter selfie to their extended found family, Dorian and TeIemachus started to head home.
“Y'know,” TeIemachus spoke up and Dorian hummed in acknowledgement, “both of us h-hiccupping at the same time like that was kinda fun. I didn't even mind mine staying that long after you started, to be honest because you were hiccupping with me.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Dorian nodded, “maybe we could try it again sometime, maybe without the hiccups caused by nervousness. Those…kinda sucked.” They cringed.
“Aw, I understand,” TeIemachus squeezed their hand, “when you couldn't cure them, that right there worried me.”
“Ah, no need to worry about that. I'm sure if they were caused by any other thing, I'm sure I could've cured them.” Dorian reassured him.
“Nonetheless, you're definitely getting some chest and tummy massages when we get home,” TeIemachus smiled.
“Ah, a man after my own heart,” Dorian dramatically placed a hand on their chest, “true love is real!”
TeIemachus chuckled and stopped walking, taking Dorian's other hand so he was holding both hands. He leaned down and kissed Dorian's lips again, meaningful and passionate. Dorian kissed him right back, their thumb feeling the ring on TeIemachus's finger.
They knew from this day forward, they would be by each other's sides.
It's time for another unhinged fanfic choice based on the actor I'm currently obsessed with! Description of the story/characters under the cut.
Content: Embarrassment about hiccups
Whether they've read/watched them or not, a lot of people are probably familiar with Agätha Chrístie's Hércule Poírot mysteries. This is still an unhinged fanfic choice, though, because Poírot himself isn't the main character of this fic. Instead, I'm writing about Inspector Crome, a one-off character that my actor played in an audio drama adaptation of a Poírot mystery called The ABC Mürders. In that story, Crome has the classic "Officer Who's Annoyed about Having to Work with the Famous Detective" role, but while he has a definite chip on his shoulder and argues a lot with Poírot about how to conduct the case, he comes around to a grudging respect for Poírot by the end and says he wants to work together again. So my fic imagines that they've been investigating cases together for several months now. Crome has mellowed further toward Poírot but can still be cranky/defensive about things.
Here are the characters (only Poírot has an image since, again, this was for an audio drama):
Inspector Crome - The youngest inspector at Scotland Yard. Intelligent and hardworking, but he can be set in his ways and has to be coaxed to think outside the box. He has a more working-class background than most men at the Yard, and he regularly deals with classist insinuations that maybe he didn't deserve his promotion. So while his pride can be in the way of his work, it's largely because he always feels like he has to prove himself.
Hércule Poírot - Famous Belgian detective. He's ostensibly retired now, but he can't give up investigating entirely, and he sometimes consults with the Yard on their cases. In my fic, Crome is now his preferred inspector to work with--even though there can still be friction between them, Crome knows Poírot better than most inspectors at the Yard, so Poírot feels comfortable with him.
Superintendent Stone - The head of Scotland Yard. Contributes a lot to Crome's need to prove himself, especially when he unfavorably compares Crome to Poírot.
And with that, here's the fic!
Eight days into the investigation, they had yet to catch Mary Ryland’s killer. Inspector Crome had favored the boyfriend at first, but that hadn’t panned out. Now, he and Poírot both suspected Arthur Bridges, the poor girl’s piano instructor. However, they’d not yet found the proof they needed to bring him in for good. Either the music teacher was more cunning than Crome had anticipated, or this was leading to another dead end and they’d have to start again.
Given what an important family the Rylands were, Superintendent Stone was getting impatient. He’d called Crome and Poírot into Scotland Yard to bring him up to speed on the facts of the case. “In other words,” Poírot had remarked drolly, “to poke at our progress and ask why we’ve not solved it yet.”
“Yeah, just about,” Crome had replied, forcing a smile as his stomach had clenched with a brief fit of nerves. Stone was a good man and a fine superintendent, but he had a way of making Crome constantly feel like he was back in school doing exams—like he was always on the verge of washing out and one misstep would send him tumbling down.
And if that happened? Crome could just imagine the chatter, all the snatches of conversations that would fade out as he walked by.
Good of the superintendent to give him a go—not his fault some people just aren’t cut out for it.
I always knew the Mabel Homer case was a fluke.
Glad to see him back in his proper place. Oh, he’s capable, maybe, but he’s just not “our sort.”
Of course, these days, it was comments about how Crome was riding Poírot’s coattails, scraping by on the famous detective’s talent and not his own. Let them talk—Crome didn’t care. (Well, he tried not to care.) Anyone at the Yard would be wise to listen to Poírot’s insights, and working with him was making Crome a better inspector: sharpening his reasoning, honing the sort of questions that yielded results, cooling his urge to hold tight to his first suspect when the evidence wasn’t bearing out.
He reminded himself that all those things mattered more than the comments, and some days, he even got to the point where they didn’t bother him.
But this morning, it was all about Mary Ryland. “What about that Palmer chap?” Superintendent Stone was asking. “I thought they’d been seen quarreling the day before the murder.”
“They had,” Crome explained, “but—”
“And he has no alibi,” the super added.
“Right—” Crome conceded.
“Nathaniel Palmer could not have killed Mary Ryland,” Poírot broke in smoothly, “not in this way. The medical examiner’s report shows that Miss Ryland was struck by someone much taller than Mr. Palmer.”
“He’s got asthma as well,” Crome put in. “It’s not likely he could’ve worked up the exertion you’d need for an attack like that.”
“Hmmm,” Stone murmured. “I don’t have to tell you about the tongue-lashing we’re getting in the press over all this.”
“No, sir,” Crome said, holding back a slight grimace.
“Mary Ryland was 19,” the superintendent went on. “Well-connected family, bright girl. She had her whole future ahead of her.”
“We know,” Crome admitted. As he shifted in his chair, he hiccupped, a quiet “*hllp!*” in the back of his throat. He cleared his throat self-consciously, but neither the super nor Poírot seemed to take any notice.
“I know Walter Ryland,” Stone said. “We’ve gone to the same club for years.”
With a quiet nod, Crome hiccupped again. He felt his head and shoulders give a small jerk, but it was completely silent this time.
“I didn’t know Mary well, of course, but it’s a terrible blow to the family…”
“*hmmph!*” Oh, hell—not now. This was the last thing Crome needed. Trying to be discreet, he crossed his arms and rubbed his mouth like he was in thought. Hopefully, it would keep Superintendent Stone from noticing that he was holding his breath.
The super was still speaking. “What I’m saying is that this is personal,” Stone told Crome and Poírot. “As both of you well know, the full resources of Scotland Yard are behind this case. I expect results on this.”
“Of course, superintendent,” Poírot replied. “I promise, we will not fail you.”
“Is that right?” Stone asked, giving Crome a stern look.
Nothing for it—Crome let his breath out. “Yes, sir-*rrk!*”
Dammit! He muffled the hiccup as well as he could behind his hand.
Crome’s only small spot of luck was that Stone seemed too preoccupied to notice. “Right then, this music teacher,” the superintendent urged. “Tell me everything you’ve got so far.”
Oh, god. Crome swallowed another silent hiccup. “Er, right,” he mumbled.
On the one hand, he knew it was an accomplishment to be the youngest inspector at Scotland Yard, and Crome was rightly proud of that. But in situations like this when he was summoned by the superintendent, the other inspectors ribbed him like he’d been called to the head teacher’s office. If word got out that he’d laid out the case while hiccupping like a bloody schoolboy, he’d never live it down.
And the super? What would he make of it? Probably read it as proof that Crome wasn’t taking the case seriously—maybe even that he was making light of it—even though the hiccups were something Crome very clearly couldn’t control.
But as Crome prepared to embarrass himself, letting out a slow exhale through his nose and muffling a “*hmmph!*” behind his tightly-closed mouth, Poírot said, “Yes, superintendent. Let us begin with what we know so far of Arthur Bridges’s movements on the day of the murder.”
With a flood of relief, Crome sank back into his chair. Finally, Poírot’s love for the sound of his own voice was working in his favor. While the detective described the timeline they’d been piecing together, Crome crossed his arms, as if he could keep the hiccups inside by holding on tight to them. He pressed his knuckles against his mouth.
All told, he made a decent job of it. Crome managed to keep most of the hiccups silent, and any audible ones that escaped were limited to a muffled “*hllk!*” or “*mmph!*”, as well as the occasional hitch that sounded more than anything like an odd inhalation through his nose.
Try as he might, he couldn’t hide the way they were making his body jerk, but fortunately, Stone was listening closely enough to Poírot that he didn’t seem to be paying any mind to Crome’s predicament. It helped that the detective had gotten out of his chair and was pacing round the room as he talked, occasionally stopping to pick up an object on the superintendent’s desk or examine one of the photographs on the wall.
All the while, he kept talking. As much as Crome had come to respect the aging sleuth, he did think Poírot could be quite the old showboat, but today, it was music to his ears. “*llp!*” he hiccupped, the quiet noise easily hidden beneath Poírot’s detailed observations.
The detective paused, turning to Stone’s secretary sitting in the corner of the room. As Poírot murmured something to her, Edith nodded briskly. She rose to her feet and slipped out of the room.
Edith was equal parts efficient and inconspicuous—she always was—and in the quiet of this brief interlude, a “*hmmph!*” worked its way out of Crome. He bit back a cringe as the superintendent looked his way. “Something to add, inspector?”
“No, sir,” Crome replied quickly, then clamped his mouth shut again. Once he’d quieted the next hiccup that made his head snap back, he hastily added, “I know not to interrupt Poiro-- when he’s on a roll.”
Crome could feel a flush spreading up his neck, and he forced himself not to grimace. Although that last hiccup was entirely silent, it had put a slight hitch in his speech.
“I’m afraid the inspector is quite correct,” Poírot remarked with easy good humor. “I do love a good…eh, what is the word for it in English? When an actor is onstage, making a speech to the audience?”
“Soliloquy?” the super offered.
“Ah, precisely,” Poírot said. “Inspector Crome is kind enough to let me go on. So with that, I shall resume my soliloquy. Now that we have examined Mr. Bridges’s whereabouts on the fourth of September, let us turn to motive. What could have driven him to kill a promising pupil like Mary Ryland…?”
As Poírot continued, Crome let himself relax the tiniest bit. He still felt self-conscious and tense, but at least he could take solace in the detective drawing all the attention in the room. Crome muffled an “*rrk!*” behind his knuckles, wishing he could just get the damn hiccups to stop already. Not even Poírot could talk forever, and anyway, it wouldn’t look good if he sat there twiddling his thumbs while Poírot explained everything—it really would look like Crome was just riding his coattails then.
Edith ducked quietly back into the room, and Crome felt a pang of envy as she handed Poírot a tall glass of water.” “Merci, mademoiselle,” Poírot said with a polite nod of his head. “I understand this theory may seem implausible to you, Superintendent Stone. After all, Mr. Bridges is quite respected for his skill as a teacher! How could he have been showing an inappropriate level of attention to one of his students? However, what we have found may surprise you…”
Crome winced as a hard silent hiccup stuck in his throat. Water—that’s what he really needed. Poírot wasn’t even drinking his, just idly holding the glass while he talked. Crome glanced at Edith, who’d settled back into her chair by the corner. He wouldn’t want to risk asking aloud for her to fetch another glass. Maybe he could slip her a note? But Crome was on the wrong side of the room for that. He’d have to get up and step round Poírot to get over to her, and he didn’t want to do anything that would draw Stone’s eye back to him. Miserably, he held in another “*mmph!*”
“Furthermore, I am most intrigued by the small gift box that was swept away with the rubbish from the drawing room after the party that evening,” Poírot continued. As he spoke, he wandered in Crome’s direction. “No one in the household knew of any such gift, or what the box had contained. This was the same room where Miss Ryland had her music lesson with Mr. Bridges, only a few hours before the party. Could it have been a gift to her from him?”
Poírot was standing in front of Crome now, between him and Superintendent Stone. Without so much as a glance at Crome, the detective suddenly pressed the glass of water into his hand. Startled, Crome looked at Poírot in surprise, and he only just remembered to clench his mouth shut against the strong “*hpp!*” that slipped out of him.
“I confess, I find it most curious,” Poírot admitted. “What was the gift, and why does there seem to be no trace of it? What became of it? I believe these discoveries could prove an enormous help in our investigation.”
Crome looked down at the water. Poírot knew. Of course he did—he’d probably spotted straightaway that Crome had gotten the hiccups and was in a fix. Crome felt a rush of embarrassment at having been caught out, but it was outweighed by his gratefulness for the water.
So as Poírot meandered to the opposite end of the room, drawing the super’s attention along with him, Crome got straight to work. He waited for his next muffled “*hllk!*” to pass, then began to take small sips of water without stopping. By the time he reached the bottom of the glass, he was bursting for breath, but Crome made himself exhale slowly, warily keeping his lips pressed together while he waited.
So far, so good. Crome drew a slow breath in and out through his nose, then another—no hiccups. It looked like the bloody things were finally gone.
“This is everything we know,” Poírot explained to Stone. “As you can see, superintendent, there is much we’ve already determined, but there are crucial pieces of the puzzle still missing.” He raised his eyebrows to Crome in a silent question, his gaze flitting for a moment to the empty glass. Crome gave a sheepish nod.
“Inspector, would you care to go over our unanswered questions?” Poírot suggested casually. “I know you’ve been keeping an account of them.”
So that was it. Poírot’s showboating hadn’t merely worked out in Crome’s favor this time. It had been on his behalf, the old detective taking the reins to hold Stone’s attention and save Crome from having to speak until he’d had a chance to deal with the hiccups.
Crome stifled a sigh—every time he thought he’d given the sleuth sufficient credit, Poírot had to go and up the stakes once more. It could be infuriating at times, but it was damn impressive too, and in this instance, Crome was hardly in a position to complain.
“Right, yeah,” he said, nodding again. A bit awkwardly, he set down the glass, then flipped his notepad open to his running list of questions. “Erm, Poírot already mentioned the empty gift box in the drawing room. That’s top of our list. It was just the right size for jewelry, and if we’re right that it came from Arthur Bridges, that would be, er, quite an intimate gift for a young woman from her piano teacher…”
The hiccups had really rattled Crome, but now that they were gone, his earlier worries about being called before the super felt much more manageable. Consulting his case notes, he found it was easy enough to take Stone through the gaps that he and Poírot still needed to fill in the investigation: the gift box, that span of nearly an hour where Bridges’s whereabouts were unaccounted for, the figure one of the servants had heard going out the back door a little after 9:00 pm, and so on.
Before he knew it, the superintendent was shaking both of their hands, saying, “Keep up the good work. I want the devil brought to justice.”
Feeling more confident now, Crome looked Stone in the eye as he nodded. “We’ll see it done, sir.”
“Now if you’ll excuse us, superintendent, we have a busy day ahead of us,” Poírot added. “We’ll be sure to keep you informed of any breaks in the case.”
“Call anytime, day or night,” the super replied, walking with them to the door. “I want to know the moment you get our man.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Crome promised.
When he and Poírot stepped into the hall, Crome let out a deep breath, as if he was exhaling the last of his nerves from his body. “Thanks for the hand, Poírot,” he conceded in a low voice. “With, er, with the water—and everything.”
“Ah, think nothing of it,” Poírot said with an indifferent wave of his hand. “They are an odd little affliction: more inconvenient than harmful, but if they appear at the wrong time? They can be most troublesome.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Crome mumbled. He slipped his notepad back into his trouser pocket and smoothed down his suit, ready to put the awkward business behind him. “I was thinking. You know how we were wanting to meet some of Bridges’s other students, feel out if he’d tried anything funny with someone else? Well, didn’t Mrs. Ryland say they were gonna be doing a recital in Mary’s honor?”
“Yes, tomorrow evening,” Poírot noted. “A fine idea, inspector. We’ll have an opportunity to observe how the other young ladies behave in his presence, identify those who might have useful information for us.”
Right,” Crome replied. He frowned in thought. “Would they talk to us, though? About something, you know, delicate?” Even under normal circumstances, interviews weren’t his strongest suit, and while Poírot had a way of charming information out of people, Crome wasn’t so sure of the sleuth’s ability to handle this one.
And Poírot, it seemed, agreed. “Mmm, a fair point,” he murmured. “Perhaps we could invite your friend Constable Lewis to accompany us? After all, she is a young lady herself, and if any of the students have something discreet to reveal about Arthur Bridges, they may feel more comfortable opening up to her.”
As usual, Crome had come up with an idea and Poírot had topped it. Sometimes that could needle at him, but he couldn’t argue about it today. Not when Poírot had saved Crome’s backside with the super and then did him the courtesy of not harping on it. Not when they needed to solve this case and any good idea was a welcome one.
“But come,” Poírot urged. “That is tomorrow evening, and there is much to do before then. We have work to do, inspector. On y va!”
Nodding, Crome fell in line beside the detective. “That we do,” he said as they strode down the hall together.
-thinks about how cute hiccups are especially when someone realizes they aren’t stopping
-thinks about my ocs where one has the kink, but they get the hiccups and the other knows the kink so is being playful/saying all the right things because they are both stuck out in the public somewhere
You get it yes. A few hiccups being normal sometimes, maybe they tend to be prone to singles but a few in a row isn’t unheard of, but these are going on longer than normal…. places a hand on chest waiting to see if they actually have a case, before hiccuping again proving they do. When their normal hiccups aren’t as aggressive, but the one proving they have the hiccups is deeper, pulling the neck in, making them bounce more than the regular ones
