The rhythms boomed in the dance club when France locked eyes with her. Beautiful green orbs shined out, even amidst the flashing lights, and France downed his drink in one gulp. He pushed through he dancing, pulsating crowd and found her and grabbed her hips. She started, blushed, and shouted over the music, "I'm--"
France put a finger to her lips. "Belgium. I know." With a seductive smile and a tug on her wrist, France pulled the beauty through the smoke-laced crowd, laser show dancing off the walls. When they finally escaped the throng of bodies, France pulled Belgium flush to her--she was like an angel, so delicate--and kissed the corner of her lips tenderly. "Can we go to your place?" he whispered, nibbling at her ear.
Belgium nodded, face hot and stained pink. "It's just next door," she breathed, grabbing France's hand and leading him through the back door of the club. They went into the tiny apartment building and up the stairs, only pausing outside Number 7 for Belgium to dig her keys from her purse. When she found them, she turned to France and pulled the man down for a long, sultry kiss. When they broke, she stood on her toes to whisper into his ears: "I want some more."
France groaned, shooting out a hand to brace himself on the door.
Belgium blinked, watching him quiver. "Um. Did you..."
"This really never happens," France panted, "you can take my word."
Belgium stared. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I won't apologize!" France snapped, crossing his arms across his chest and suddenly looking everywhere except Belgium.
"This is absurd. I can't believe you just--"
"Well, it's mainly your fault for the way you dance!" France pointed an accusatory finger at Belgium. "And don't tell your friends or, or... or else I'll say you're a slut!"
Belgium stared.
"Plus it's your fault; you were rubbing my butt!"
"When did I ever--"
"And I'm very sensitive!" France practically shrieked. "Some would say that's a plus!"
Belgium put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. "I think you should leave."
France went home to change.
Spain was at the grocery store. Picking out a few items here or there, not really paying attention; he had just been dumped--last year, actually--by Portugal, and was still having a rough time of it. He had since given up looking for love, so when he pulled his cart up to the express line, he wasn't prepared for the beauty he saw. Spain's heart stopped, as did time and space. And then his heart began to beat again, faster than ever before--he never thought he could feel this way again!
Romano glanced at Spain, and cracked his gum and he opened the cash register. "Cash or credit?"
And then Spain's face twisted, he gripped the grocery cart tight, and gave a gasp.
"Uh..." Romano frowned. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing wrong with me," Spain panted, laughed weakly. "But I think we're going to need a clean up in Aisle Three."
The cashier glanced down. "WHAT THE FUCK."
"Hey now, to be fair, you were flirting a lot," Spain frowned, holding up his hands in defense. "Plus the way you bag cans makes me bothered and hot."
Romano snarled. "GIMME A BREAK!"
"Oh, stop acting like you're not impressed," Spain grinned. "And just one more thing--I'm going to pay by check, that okay?"
Romano leaped over the counter and headbutted Spain.
Last week, Prussia saw a film. As best he can recall, it was a horror film. When it was over, he walked out into the rain and remembered to turn on his phone--he had a new message. Prussia opened it, saw it was from Hungary, and jizzed in his pants.
France was in his car, speeding down the road with the radio blaring. A song came on that reminded him of a, a friend--'Anarchy in the UK'--and luckily he was at a red light when he jizzed in his pants.
The next day, Spain was just lying in bed. Suddenly, his alarm went off and he jizzed in his pants.
Prussia opened a window, a breeze rolled in and he jizzed in his pants.
France stared at the screen, watching the credits roll. "So... what happened again?"
America glanced at him. "Bruce Willis was actually dead the whole time."
Re: J.I.M.P.
anonymous
November 9 2009, 09:11:23 UTC
At first I was dissapointed - I dont normally read Het. But once I started catching on, I caught myself hearing the normal singing voice instead of the voices I improvise for characters XD; this was genius.
author anon here
anonymous
November 10 2009, 00:50:26 UTC
Oh my God, I go away for the weekend and this thing explodes in its pants. Thank you everyone who enjoyed this hideous beast, I'm glad I could make a few people giggle. As soon as I posted this, I said "I will never fucking de-anon for this thing since I'll be a pariah of the APH fandom." so thanks for soothing my creative ego, anons ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
France put a finger to her lips. "Belgium. I know." With a seductive smile and a tug on her wrist, France pulled the beauty through the smoke-laced crowd, laser show dancing off the walls. When they finally escaped the throng of bodies, France pulled Belgium flush to her--she was like an angel, so delicate--and kissed the corner of her lips tenderly. "Can we go to your place?" he whispered, nibbling at her ear.
Belgium nodded, face hot and stained pink. "It's just next door," she breathed, grabbing France's hand and leading him through the back door of the club. They went into the tiny apartment building and up the stairs, only pausing outside Number 7 for Belgium to dig her keys from her purse. When she found them, she turned to France and pulled the man down for a long, sultry kiss. When they broke, she stood on her toes to whisper into his ears: "I want some more."
France groaned, shooting out a hand to brace himself on the door.
Belgium blinked, watching him quiver. "Um. Did you..."
"This really never happens," France panted, "you can take my word."
Belgium stared. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I won't apologize!" France snapped, crossing his arms across his chest and suddenly looking everywhere except Belgium.
"This is absurd. I can't believe you just--"
"Well, it's mainly your fault for the way you dance!" France pointed an accusatory finger at Belgium. "And don't tell your friends or, or... or else I'll say you're a slut!"
Belgium stared.
"Plus it's your fault; you were rubbing my butt!"
"When did I ever--"
"And I'm very sensitive!" France practically shrieked. "Some would say that's a plus!"
Belgium put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. "I think you should leave."
France went home to change.
Spain was at the grocery store. Picking out a few items here or there, not really paying attention; he had just been dumped--last year, actually--by Portugal, and was still having a rough time of it. He had since given up looking for love, so when he pulled his cart up to the express line, he wasn't prepared for the beauty he saw. Spain's heart stopped, as did time and space. And then his heart began to beat again, faster than ever before--he never thought he could feel this way again!
Romano glanced at Spain, and cracked his gum and he opened the cash register. "Cash or credit?"
And then Spain's face twisted, he gripped the grocery cart tight, and gave a gasp.
"Uh..." Romano frowned. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing wrong with me," Spain panted, laughed weakly. "But I think we're going to need a clean up in Aisle Three."
The cashier glanced down. "WHAT THE FUCK."
"Hey now, to be fair, you were flirting a lot," Spain frowned, holding up his hands in defense. "Plus the way you bag cans makes me bothered and hot."
Romano snarled. "GIMME A BREAK!"
"Oh, stop acting like you're not impressed," Spain grinned. "And just one more thing--I'm going to pay by check, that okay?"
Romano leaped over the counter and headbutted Spain.
Last week, Prussia saw a film. As best he can recall, it was a horror film. When it was over, he walked out into the rain and remembered to turn on his phone--he had a new message. Prussia opened it, saw it was from Hungary, and jizzed in his pants.
France was in his car, speeding down the road with the radio blaring. A song came on that reminded him of a, a friend--'Anarchy in the UK'--and luckily he was at a red light when he jizzed in his pants.
The next day, Spain was just lying in bed. Suddenly, his alarm went off and he jizzed in his pants.
Prussia opened a window, a breeze rolled in and he jizzed in his pants.
France stared at the screen, watching the credits roll. "So... what happened again?"
America glanced at him. "Bruce Willis was actually dead the whole time."
France jizzed in his pants.
Spain ate a grape and, well, you know the rest.
--
sorry to everyone and everything.
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Hey now, to be fair, you were flirting a lot.
Sure, Spain, sure.
xD
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Oh goodness thats some delectable crack! The first France story was perfect. Poor Belgium, hopefully he didn't leave a mess at her front door.
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You've turned an awesome request into something unbelievably, perfectly, hilarious. XD
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Fucking.
Funny.
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This is just... *cracks up*
This is so amazing.
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JUST HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE YOU. <333
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