HETALIA KINK MEME PART 5

Feb 26, 2011 13:29


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hetalia kink meme
part 5

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Re: Blood and Vodka [2/?] anonymous July 5 2009, 06:59:25 UTC
Ivan laughed low in his throat. “That is right, my little toy.” Alfred heard what he assumed to be the tipping and sloshing of liquid in a bottle. The tone in Ivan's voice relieved Alfred slightly; he wasn't very far into the bottle by the sounds of it. Perhaps he could talk some sense into the Russian. “D'you know why you're here?”

“No, but these chains hurt! Let me go!” Alfred struggled even more, but hissed and groaned in pain as the chains bit into his skin.

Ivan smirked. “I think not.” He tipped the bottle up once more and Alfred felt the bed shift, as if a weight had settled next to him. Ivan's voice was right on his ear, oppressively hot and angry. “This is no less than you deserve, you idiotic sonuvabitch.” The scent of the vodka floated to Alfred's nose and made his eyes water. “This is my revenge. You think you can control what I do? Where I put my missiles? You're nothing more than a piece of gum on my shoe.”

“Wha?” Alfred vaguely remembered something in the past about missiles. The Cuban Missile Crisis? Was that what he was talking about? Ivan was getting revenge on him now for the Cold War? “Ivan, please, let me go! How can you still be angry about that? I'm the Hero, you're supposed to love me!”

“Hero? Hero?! You're nothing but a child.” Ivan growled angrily and grabbed for Alfred's wrist. He twisted it within the metal confines and Alfred squeaked in pain. Alfred felt something, a piece of metal, sharp and cold against the flesh of his stomach. “You will know humiliation, like the humiliation I knew, being ordered around by such a pathetic excuse for a country.” He tipped the bottle and poured a generous amount over Alfred's bleeding wrist, pressing the knife into his stomach at precisely the same instant. The American screamed in pain. Ivan just smiled and traced lazy lines with the knife, blood pooling on the other country's stomach.

“P-please Ivan, stop, it burns so much...” Alfred just screamed again when the clear liquid spilled over his other wrist, then both of his ankles. He didn't understand what was happening. How could Ivan still be angry at him? It was after the Cold War now, so long in his eyes that he couldn't understand. He had helped people back then, he had been the hero! And still Ivan poured Vodka in his wounds. And on his stomach, into the knife wound. He screamed so loud he could feel the bile rising in his throat. So much pain...

The Russian laughed low in his throat, almost as if trying to be seductive. “You deserve to suffer... and suffer you will.” He swallowed the rest of the bottle and tossed the object aside. There was a delicious mix of blood and vodka on the bedsheets. Despite the alcohol rushing through his veins, he felt himself grow hard. If he allowed himself to use Alfred for his pleasure, he would make it as painful for the American as possible.

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Re: Blood and Vodka [3/?] anonymous July 5 2009, 07:01:33 UTC
Alfred was panting and cringing against the throbbing pain in his extremities. He couldn't remember ever having felt such pain, except perhaps during the Civil War. He remembered that time... No one could have helped him, as much as some of them had wanted to. He would never admit it to anyone, but he knew there was a point where he had gone insane, locking himself away in his dark cellar, writhing and screaming, clawing at his skin just to draw blood, to feel it flow down his arms, to fight the pain that boiled deep within him. And it had been all his fault. He had caused that, but this... This wasn't his fault. He hadn't done anything wrong.

Ivan climbed over Alfred's body and settled comfortably between his legs. As a lover would, he bit at Alfred's skin. Unlike a lover, he sunk his teeth into Alfred's flesh, drawing blood, making the nation under him scream deliciously in pain once again. The alcohol in his saliva stung and Alfred's tears were flowing freely, dampening the blindfold still over his eyes. “Ivan, please stop, it hurts so much-”

Another scream erupted from his throat as Ivan bit down particularly hard, obviously a warning to shut the hell up. “You want this Alfred... You really do, don't you?” He put his hands on Alfred's shoulders and dug his fingernails deeply into the other's skin. Alfred whimpered. The loss of blood wasn't getting to him yet, but he was afraid that if Ivan went too far...

Suddenly, Alfred felt Ivan's hands lift away, and travel down his body, followed by many painful bites and more drawing of blood. Ivan's nails dug at his flesh and pulled his old wounds open roughly, making the American screech and beg for mercy. He happily added to the scars that already dotted Alfred's torso.

“You will get nothing from me,” Ivan replied harshly, his voice thick with his Russian accent. He ran his hands over the American's thighs, scratching and clawing at the skin. He unceremoniously shoved a finger into Alfred's entrance and the other lifted his hips from the bed in a vain attempt to rid himself of the painful intrusion. “God, please no Ivan, please don't,” he begged. He felt the mix of blood and vodka on his stomach flow up his torso and there were burning sensations anew. Why was this happening to him?!

Ivan chuckled. Pleas of mercy were music to his ears, and they make him so fucking hard. He scrambled with the shackles on Alfred's ankles. They tied his lower half far too closely to the bed. He propped the bleeding appendages over his shoulders, unbuttoning and pulling down his pants hastily. His erection sprung free and he silently praised the absence of the constricting clothing. He positioned himself at Alfred's entrance and easily ignored the frantic pleas coming from the American. He shoved his full length inside roughly and groaned in pleasure. Alfred screamed. That scream was a completely different kind of scream, Ivan knew. That wasn't a scream of something attacking you from the outside, but of being viciously torn apart from within. And there was nothing Alfred could do about it... If it was possible for Ivan to get any harder, he just did.

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Re: Blood and Vodka [4/4] anonymous July 5 2009, 07:03:35 UTC
The Russian started to move, shoving his large length into Alfred again and again, faster and harder, all the while listening to the other beg and plead for him to stop because it hurt so much and he couldn't take it anymore. Ivan held himself back, even though the pleading was turning him on so fucking much. He wouldn't let himself finish until he was sure this imbecile knew the true meaning of the word pain. Alfred was crying freely, shaking and sobbing, every pore in his body screaming for this to stop, screaming for him to wake up in his own bed and forget all about this nightmare. But the nightmare didn't end. Not for Alfred.

“You see,” Ivan panted, trying not to moan between words, “I'm so much better than you could ever hope to be. You're a toy Alfred, a stupid toy. You aren't worthy of being a country, much less being in this world.” He couldn't hold back a moan then and his thrusts became more frantic, hurting Alfred all the more. The American could see the edges of his eyes begin to fade into black, but it was at that precise moment Ivan came, with a resounding, “F-fuck...!”

He paused for a few moments, then grunted and pulled out of Alfred to find his now flaccid member slick with Alfred's blood. He casually wiped it away by smearing it on the bedsheets. Alfred's vision was restored, but barely. He could feel the blood loss creeping over him and hoped and preyed that he would just pass out before Ivan could do anything else to him. Unfortunately, he wasn't granted such a wish.

Ivan smirked at the masterpiece he had created. It was almost finished, but there was one finishing touch that he had yet to apply. He left Alfred's legs unbound; the American had no energy left in him anymore. He didn't bother fixing his pants, there was no need. He would just go back to his room and fantasize about this night, getting himself off several times over, just remembering. He made his way over to the fireplace, pleased that it was still burning brightly. He picked the large metal brand out and stared at the glowing red letters. They were in Alfred's own language but he knew what they meant. He had requested this object made just for this night.

Ivan lifted the metal and sauntered over to the bed and to Alfred, silently wishing for another bottle of vodka to pour into his wounds. He would writhe so deliciously once again...

Alfred was tired. So very tired. He wanted to sleep. Sleep forever and never wake up. Ivan abruptly interrupted this line of thought by digging the fingernails of one hand into his forearm. “This is my gift to you, Alfred. Accept it and thank me when you can.” He pressed the red hot end into Alfred's chest and took great pleasure in the sound of the searing flesh.

Alfred was gone then. He felt himself slip into blessed unconsciousness and sleep.

Ivan tossed the brand away, inspecting his work. The words were clear and he hoped they would scar Alfred for life.

“Property of Russia”

Finally satisfied with his job, Ivan sauntered to the video camera next to the bed. He grabbed it and took it with him when he left. In the morning, Arthur would find such an interesting movie in his mailbox.

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Re: Blood and Vodka [4/4] anonymous July 5 2009, 22:41:33 UTC
Passing anon admits she hasn't got a fondness for insane!Ivan (but that's her problem), but the lovely way he torments Alfred is very clever. "Property of Russia" indeed. That and using vodka as a "disinfectant".

But what I really like is how Alfred just doesn't get why this is happening. In his eyes he's a hero and old wounds are just another thing of the past.

Anon also hopes for an aftermath fic. Great justice must be distributed! Preferably by twin brothers and British guys. "turer hexing" says captcha.

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Re: Blood and Vodka [4/4] anonymous July 6 2009, 00:35:39 UTC
Writer!Anon here.~

I have a thing for insane!Ivan, but I like writing him more than reading him. Maybe I'm just a freak.

Epilogue is very, very possible.

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OP IS OMFGing ATM, LEAVE A MESSAGE anonymous July 6 2009, 03:55:02 UTC
... oh my god this was perfect. i think i love you. when`s the wedding.
don`t hate yourself for writing it, it was just everything i hoped it would be && more --
the one line, where russia is telling him he`s just a toy, and the branding, and the vodka in the cuts oh my god how did you know that was one of my secret kinks --

ok i`m totally incoherent right now but just GUHHHHHHHHH brb rereading over & over and WOW.

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Notto Dissu OP Agen anonymous July 6 2009, 04:11:03 UTC
o-one minute did you say epilogue is very, very possible ok incoherent all over again ♥ ♥ ♥

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Re: OP IS OMFGing ATM, LEAVE A MESSAGE anonymous July 7 2009, 03:50:07 UTC
Writer!Anon here

Yay~ I'm very glad you liked it. :D

I HAVE A THING FOR TORTURING ARTHUR NOW. *failsatlife*

I'll go write the epilogue now. *runs off*

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Re: OP IS OMFGing ATM, LEAVE A MESSAGE anonymous July 7 2009, 04:36:57 UTC
Alfred, Arthur, whatever, I'm so tireeeeeeeed.

-sleep-

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Re: Blood and Vodka [5/4; Epilogue] anonymous July 7 2009, 04:31:39 UTC
To say that Arthur was mortified would be an understatement.

He had found the unmarked video tape in his mailbox. He almost threw it away, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. There was an address scribbled in pen, stuck to the tape with a post-it. He popped the object into the player; it was already at the beginning, so he simply pressed play.

It took him a few moments to realize that it was indeed Alfred chained to the bed, bleeding and naked. Was this some sort of joke? He found his face darkening in color. This was embarrassing. Was Alfred trying to get some sort of rise out of him?!

And then Ivan came into view. And slowly, Arthur realized that this was not, in fact, a joke. This tape was the very definition of a train wreck; he couldn't look away. On and on the minutes ticked and he felt his gut tightening more with every second. This wasn't right, this wasn't fair, this wasn't-

And as much as he wanted to look away, he watched with inexplicable horror as Alfred - his Alfred, his annoyance, his compatriot, his friend, his son - was... was...

He abruptly turned and vomited into the nearest trash can.

The tape finally ended and Arthur suddenly realized that Alfred must still be there, chained to that bed. He frantically scooped up the post-it and was both surprised and relieved to know that the location was right here in his own country.

He couldn't remember the last time he had run so fast.

-------------------------

Alfred's heart was beating, but it was so very faint. Arthur was terrified that it would stop at any moment.

“Alfred?!” he spoke shrilly, looking around frantically for the key to his shackles. That bastard had left it on the side table. He dove and grabbed it, ignoring the fact that his eyes were damp and impairing his vision. “Alfred? Alfred, please wake up. You don't have to wake up for more than two seconds, just please, please wake up.” He removed the shackles on Alfred's hands and cringed when they literally peeled away, stuck to his skin with the dried blood, opening the wounds and making them leak the dark red fluid once more. He used the sheets to wipe the blood up as best he could and felt his stomach turn as the cuts and the brand on the other's chest caught his eye.

Suddenly, Alfred let out a very small groan. Arthur could have wept for joy. “Alfred? Alfred, can you hear what I'm saying?”

“...Arthur?” His throat felt so tight, so raw from the screaming. His voice was not his own.

“I'm going to get you to a hospital, Alfred. Don't move, you'll injure yourself further.” The Englishman found the phone rather quickly and all but commanded the operator on the other line to fetch the finest doctors that the world had to offer and send an ambulance to the address. He set the phone down and rushed back to Alfred.

“Arthur,” the voice-that-was-not-Alfred whimpered.

Arthur had never seen the American so completely and utterly... shattered. He had never truly wanted to and his felt his heart wrench in his chest. This was his boy. He had raised Alfred, taught him to speak, fed him, given him gifts, fought with him, separated from him, hated him, despised him... Loved him.

They waited for the ambulance, the Englishman feeling his heart break little by little as he watched his son weep.

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OPPPPPPPPPPPPP anonymous July 7 2009, 05:30:16 UTC
"and his felt he heart wrench in his chest."

i - i literally felt that while reading this --
just - dfasdfjkl this was so HEARTWRENCHING for lack of a better word && aaahhhh those last few lines stomped my heart into tiny, tiny pieces homfg.

thank you so, so much for this, writer-anon ♥

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Writer!Anon here again~ anonymous July 7 2009, 05:58:28 UTC
Squee. x]

I didn't think this was very good, I'm SO so so relieved that OP likes it so much. <3

And the wedding is next week, dear. ;D

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Re: Blood and Vodka [5/4; Epilogue] anonymous July 7 2009, 05:55:43 UTC
That...that was horribly wonderful writer anon. Poor Alfred...I feel selfish for wanting a sequel from you now. *gets shot*

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Re: Blood and Vodka [5/4; Epilogue] anonymous July 10 2009, 08:08:56 UTC
Thank you thank you thank you... I love gentle!Ivan too, but sometimes I just NEED to have a dose of non-con... and this is SOOOO wonderfully written! The whole time I was reading I was thinking "Ow ow ow that MUST hurt, oh this is wrong but why am I turned on?"
The epilogue is beautiful too... at least I am glad Arthur found Alfred ;_;

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