[FanFic] Friggin' Kidding - Chp. 3
Title: Friggin' Kidding - Chapter 3
Author/Artist: nagirinara
Rating: M, for Prussia's filthy mouth and eventual... er... smut
Genre: Humor/Romance
Warnings:
- Chapter 3: Foul language, slurs, yaoi, shounen-ai, human names, crazy!Russia, cranky!Prussia, Russian language, straight!Prussia (at least initially), bondage sans-sex
Summary: Ivan liked Gilbert's fighting spirit at the end of the war... He decided he wanted it and the other Allies, in order to appease him, gave him what he wanted... Needless to say, Gilbert was upset.
Read this at FF.net!
No, Gilbert wasn't frightened, he was too awesome for that of course! Yeah right, Gilbert... keep telling yourself that. The kicking and screaming like a little girl as Ivan dragged him down the hall did not help his case any. "Let me go! Fucking Ruski!" he yelled, trying to squirm into a position where he could somehow hit the larger man. The German's attempts were in vain though... accomplishing nothing more than getting a few splinters on his forearms from hitting against the battered floor.
The Russian kicked open a door in the hallway and proceeded to toss his poor capti-... spouse inside before slamming the door shut behind them. Gilbert was in the air for a few brief moments before hitting the ground with a thud. "Ngh..." he groaned as he lay on the floor, right side now rather sore. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus, resting on his hands and knees. He heard cheerfully creepy laughter coming from somwhere behind him. "If you keep calling me that, Gilbert, I just might take to calling you a Kraut! Or, what is it those blasted Americans call you? A Jerry? Mmm, not the same impact as Kraut..."
Gilbert sputtered a bit, hearing the ethnic slur... That wasn't fair! If what Ludwig said was right, this stupid communist was supposed to be beneath him, not insulting him! Then again, Gilbert didn't agree with the ideology that his younger brother so lovingly embraced. Gilbert was, however, far too awesome (in his mind) to be insulted by any one anyway, especially not this man who took him captive and signed a marriage contract in his name.
Annoyed, Gilbert quickly scanned the ground he was kneeling on, trying to find something... anything within reach. Luckily for the German, he found an unattended shoe and grabbed it before turning quickly to let it fly. "Kesesesese," he snickered as he watched the heavy shoe land square in the Russian's face.
Ivan had been standing there, minding his own business and thinking about how exactly he should punish the defiant, ungrateful German when an old work shoe collided directly with his face. "Yebat!" he exclaimed, stumbling back against the wall of the room as the demon shoe clattered to the floor in front of him. He quickly brought a hand to his face to apply some sort of pressure... and learned that his nose was now bleeding... No, it wasn't broken, evident by the lack of crunching and cracking, but there was blood dripping out nonetheless. No, Ivan did not approve of this at all.
Worse, that blasted Pr- Kaliningrad was laughing... at him, at his pain! That was never a smart thing to do... "Krolik~" he called out affectionately, voice creepily sweet even though he was very, very upset with blood dripping down his face. The large man took a few sturdy steps towards the laughing German, who was suddenly not laughing any more. Gilbert's eyes were wide with fear as he smiled down at him. Grabbing the German by the collar and pulling him up, the Russian continued chuckling. Gilbert was now a bit off the ground and eye level with the larger man. "Why must you misbehave, Krolik? Don't be such a little cyka, da~" he practically cooed before tossing the German onto the old lumpy bed that came with the cabin, "Now I have to discipline you~"
Discipline? Oh that was not going to be pleasant at all... The moment he'd seen Ivan's twisted smile after the impact of the shoe, combined with the blood dripping down the unstable man's face, that was enough to scare Gilbert shit-less. He trembled on the ground as he could only watch the larger man come ever closer to him, eventually lifting him by the collar and verbally beating him. The next second, he'd been tossed onto the bed, hearing those dreaded words...
"Now I have to discipline you~"
Coming from Russia, those words did not bode well at all for the German, especially not with that tone... that tone of gentle, caring affection that the Russian so easily faked. As much as Gilbert would never admit it and still hate himself for it, he shivered, almost violently as Ivan stared down at him like a wolf would stare at an injured rabbit. It was too easy, wasn't it? For him to just do whatever he wanted when Gilbert was helpless and frightened like this?
That was why Gilbert was surprised when no blow or otherwise abuse rained down upon his already defeated body. For a second, his ego had a little dance party and he couldn't help but spurt out, "Ha! You can't discipline the awesomeness that is me! You stupid fucking Ruski!" SMACK
The German was suddenly on his side, palm pressed against the side of his jaw to try and rub the pain away. Ivan merely stood there, cracking his knuckles while grinning like always. "What did I tell you about calling me that, Krolik?" he said in a condescending tone, not really asking...
The Russian knelt down next to the bed, face level with Gilbert's. The German glared angrily, eyes narrowing even more when the larger man grabbed his hair and pulled tightly, keeping his prey in place. "Don't you want to be treated kindly, little Kaliningrad? There's no reason to fight~" was almost but sung in his face.
Gilbert gulped. He couldn't think of anything to say, no snappy comment... no clever comeback. For once the smug, egotistical German had absolutely nothing. One rogue synapse in his mind did fire though... Gilbert spat at his captor's face and hissed another round of "Fucking Ruski!"
Ivan scowled angrily as he wiped the saliva from his face. Sure, he was mad, but if what Gilbert just yelled at him didn't give him a wonderfully awful idea, than he would not be the deranged psychopath a large portion of the world feared. The angry glare quickly turned into a mischievous expression that made the German in his grasp cringe. "Oh really~?" he asked... well, not really asking... In a few seconds, Gilbert wasn't the only person on the bed. "For your own good, Gilbert, you should really stop calling me that~" If it was possible, the German became even paler at these words... in combination with the fact that now Ivan was pinning him in place.
Gilbert squeaked, but he'd never admit later, as the creep climbed on top of him and said very, very disturbing things. He squirmed and struggled underneath the added weight, unable to get any added freedom. God, why did the Russian have to weight so fucking much? "Nein! Get off of me, you fat bastard!" he practically whined.
It would take him a second though before Gilbert figured out what exactly that idiot meant by his words... What was worse was that according to the now legal documents, Ivan was perfectly within his rights to do so... At this horrifying realization, Gilbert would have flailed violently, but he could hardly move at all. Hell, breathing became difficult when the larger man decided it would be more comfortable to just lay down on top of the more fragile German. "What are you thinking? Stop, you fucking moron!" he screamed in the Russian's face.
"Always with the yelling and the name calling, Gilbert," Ivan said with a sigh, "You're so horribly behaved. It looks like you have a lot to learn, da~"
With that, the larger man shifted and had Gilbert face-down on the bed... Well, now the pale man had an idea where this was going and he was still not comfortable with the idea in the slightest. Honestly, at first Gilbert didn't think that Ivan would go throw with the "benefits" of the contract, considering he thought the larger man was rather... naive and slow. Besides, for Gilbird's sakes, the German liked woman and had for centuries (That one time he groped Hungary thinking she was a boy did not count.)... How was he supposed to deal with this? Gilbert didn't want to be some guy's bitch!
These thoughts only became known outwardly as little whimpers when his wrists were bound behind his back with... clearly something soft. What was that anyway? Oh... crap... It was the scarf, which the German figured out when its other end was brought up and wrapped around his lower face as a gag before being secured back at his wrists. This was very uncomfortable, especially for his shoulders and elbows. Gilbert squirmed and squeaked, only to get more soft chuckling in response.
"What a shame, da," the voice behind him muttered, "I was really hoping to make this easy on you, but you just had to misbehave like the little cyka you are..." Gilbert wanted to turn around and scream at the Russian that he wasn't a... er... whatever that word was, but being tied up in a weird position did not help at all.
Unfortunately for Gilbert, Ivan wasn't finished setting up. He sat back a bit, bringing his hand to his chin as he tried to think of what else he could do. This simple gag and restraint set-up wouldn't be enough... It didn't strip the German of enough freedom on its own to be effective. "Hmmm..." was heard, before he got an idea...
Ivan quickly ran out of the room and rummaged around in the supply closet near the kitchen.
For a moment there, Gilbert thought maybe he'd be left alone when Ivan left the room. No such luck, he heard the large man come back into the room. He couldn't turn his head to look. The scarf was too tightly tied for him to move that much. After feeling and hearing the springs in the mattress shift, a sudden cold sensation could be felt on his feet. Ah, shit, his boots and socks were gone. Gilbert hissed as an ever colder section seemed to form at his ankles. Soon, whatever that cold thing was had been secured in place by small lengths of rope. If Gilbert could hazard a guess... it was probably that stupid water pipe Ivan was so fond of and it was apparently being used as a spreader bar. Great... just great. Not only was he about to be raped, it was going to be bondage style.
Footnote:
*Yebat (yeh-baht) = fuck (literally, used as an expletive) In Cyrillic: ебат
*Krolik (kroh-leek) = rabbit, bunny (affectionate) In Cyrillic: кролик
*Cyka (soo-kah) = bitch (expletive, insult) In Cyrillic: сука
(Note: I opted to transliterate it to "cyka" instead of "suka" for aesthetic reasons and because that is how I've grown used to seeing it transliterated.)
Author/Artist: nagirinara
Rating: M, for Prussia's filthy mouth and eventual... er... smut
Genre: Humor/Romance
Warnings:
- Chapter 3: Foul language, slurs, yaoi, shounen-ai, human names, crazy!Russia, cranky!Prussia, Russian language, straight!Prussia (at least initially), bondage sans-sex
Summary: Ivan liked Gilbert's fighting spirit at the end of the war... He decided he wanted it and the other Allies, in order to appease him, gave him what he wanted... Needless to say, Gilbert was upset.
Read this at FF.net!
No, Gilbert wasn't frightened, he was too awesome for that of course! Yeah right, Gilbert... keep telling yourself that. The kicking and screaming like a little girl as Ivan dragged him down the hall did not help his case any. "Let me go! Fucking Ruski!" he yelled, trying to squirm into a position where he could somehow hit the larger man. The German's attempts were in vain though... accomplishing nothing more than getting a few splinters on his forearms from hitting against the battered floor.
The Russian kicked open a door in the hallway and proceeded to toss his poor capti-... spouse inside before slamming the door shut behind them. Gilbert was in the air for a few brief moments before hitting the ground with a thud. "Ngh..." he groaned as he lay on the floor, right side now rather sore. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus, resting on his hands and knees. He heard cheerfully creepy laughter coming from somwhere behind him. "If you keep calling me that, Gilbert, I just might take to calling you a Kraut! Or, what is it those blasted Americans call you? A Jerry? Mmm, not the same impact as Kraut..."
Gilbert sputtered a bit, hearing the ethnic slur... That wasn't fair! If what Ludwig said was right, this stupid communist was supposed to be beneath him, not insulting him! Then again, Gilbert didn't agree with the ideology that his younger brother so lovingly embraced. Gilbert was, however, far too awesome (in his mind) to be insulted by any one anyway, especially not this man who took him captive and signed a marriage contract in his name.
Annoyed, Gilbert quickly scanned the ground he was kneeling on, trying to find something... anything within reach. Luckily for the German, he found an unattended shoe and grabbed it before turning quickly to let it fly. "Kesesesese," he snickered as he watched the heavy shoe land square in the Russian's face.
Ivan had been standing there, minding his own business and thinking about how exactly he should punish the defiant, ungrateful German when an old work shoe collided directly with his face. "Yebat!" he exclaimed, stumbling back against the wall of the room as the demon shoe clattered to the floor in front of him. He quickly brought a hand to his face to apply some sort of pressure... and learned that his nose was now bleeding... No, it wasn't broken, evident by the lack of crunching and cracking, but there was blood dripping out nonetheless. No, Ivan did not approve of this at all.
Worse, that blasted Pr- Kaliningrad was laughing... at him, at his pain! That was never a smart thing to do... "Krolik~" he called out affectionately, voice creepily sweet even though he was very, very upset with blood dripping down his face. The large man took a few sturdy steps towards the laughing German, who was suddenly not laughing any more. Gilbert's eyes were wide with fear as he smiled down at him. Grabbing the German by the collar and pulling him up, the Russian continued chuckling. Gilbert was now a bit off the ground and eye level with the larger man. "Why must you misbehave, Krolik? Don't be such a little cyka, da~" he practically cooed before tossing the German onto the old lumpy bed that came with the cabin, "Now I have to discipline you~"
Discipline? Oh that was not going to be pleasant at all... The moment he'd seen Ivan's twisted smile after the impact of the shoe, combined with the blood dripping down the unstable man's face, that was enough to scare Gilbert shit-less. He trembled on the ground as he could only watch the larger man come ever closer to him, eventually lifting him by the collar and verbally beating him. The next second, he'd been tossed onto the bed, hearing those dreaded words...
"Now I have to discipline you~"
Coming from Russia, those words did not bode well at all for the German, especially not with that tone... that tone of gentle, caring affection that the Russian so easily faked. As much as Gilbert would never admit it and still hate himself for it, he shivered, almost violently as Ivan stared down at him like a wolf would stare at an injured rabbit. It was too easy, wasn't it? For him to just do whatever he wanted when Gilbert was helpless and frightened like this?
That was why Gilbert was surprised when no blow or otherwise abuse rained down upon his already defeated body. For a second, his ego had a little dance party and he couldn't help but spurt out, "Ha! You can't discipline the awesomeness that is me! You stupid fucking Ruski!" SMACK
The German was suddenly on his side, palm pressed against the side of his jaw to try and rub the pain away. Ivan merely stood there, cracking his knuckles while grinning like always. "What did I tell you about calling me that, Krolik?" he said in a condescending tone, not really asking...
The Russian knelt down next to the bed, face level with Gilbert's. The German glared angrily, eyes narrowing even more when the larger man grabbed his hair and pulled tightly, keeping his prey in place. "Don't you want to be treated kindly, little Kaliningrad? There's no reason to fight~" was almost but sung in his face.
Gilbert gulped. He couldn't think of anything to say, no snappy comment... no clever comeback. For once the smug, egotistical German had absolutely nothing. One rogue synapse in his mind did fire though... Gilbert spat at his captor's face and hissed another round of "Fucking Ruski!"
Ivan scowled angrily as he wiped the saliva from his face. Sure, he was mad, but if what Gilbert just yelled at him didn't give him a wonderfully awful idea, than he would not be the deranged psychopath a large portion of the world feared. The angry glare quickly turned into a mischievous expression that made the German in his grasp cringe. "Oh really~?" he asked... well, not really asking... In a few seconds, Gilbert wasn't the only person on the bed. "For your own good, Gilbert, you should really stop calling me that~" If it was possible, the German became even paler at these words... in combination with the fact that now Ivan was pinning him in place.
Gilbert squeaked, but he'd never admit later, as the creep climbed on top of him and said very, very disturbing things. He squirmed and struggled underneath the added weight, unable to get any added freedom. God, why did the Russian have to weight so fucking much? "Nein! Get off of me, you fat bastard!" he practically whined.
It would take him a second though before Gilbert figured out what exactly that idiot meant by his words... What was worse was that according to the now legal documents, Ivan was perfectly within his rights to do so... At this horrifying realization, Gilbert would have flailed violently, but he could hardly move at all. Hell, breathing became difficult when the larger man decided it would be more comfortable to just lay down on top of the more fragile German. "What are you thinking? Stop, you fucking moron!" he screamed in the Russian's face.
"Always with the yelling and the name calling, Gilbert," Ivan said with a sigh, "You're so horribly behaved. It looks like you have a lot to learn, da~"
With that, the larger man shifted and had Gilbert face-down on the bed... Well, now the pale man had an idea where this was going and he was still not comfortable with the idea in the slightest. Honestly, at first Gilbert didn't think that Ivan would go throw with the "benefits" of the contract, considering he thought the larger man was rather... naive and slow. Besides, for Gilbird's sakes, the German liked woman and had for centuries (That one time he groped Hungary thinking she was a boy did not count.)... How was he supposed to deal with this? Gilbert didn't want to be some guy's bitch!
These thoughts only became known outwardly as little whimpers when his wrists were bound behind his back with... clearly something soft. What was that anyway? Oh... crap... It was the scarf, which the German figured out when its other end was brought up and wrapped around his lower face as a gag before being secured back at his wrists. This was very uncomfortable, especially for his shoulders and elbows. Gilbert squirmed and squeaked, only to get more soft chuckling in response.
"What a shame, da," the voice behind him muttered, "I was really hoping to make this easy on you, but you just had to misbehave like the little cyka you are..." Gilbert wanted to turn around and scream at the Russian that he wasn't a... er... whatever that word was, but being tied up in a weird position did not help at all.
Unfortunately for Gilbert, Ivan wasn't finished setting up. He sat back a bit, bringing his hand to his chin as he tried to think of what else he could do. This simple gag and restraint set-up wouldn't be enough... It didn't strip the German of enough freedom on its own to be effective. "Hmmm..." was heard, before he got an idea...
Ivan quickly ran out of the room and rummaged around in the supply closet near the kitchen.
For a moment there, Gilbert thought maybe he'd be left alone when Ivan left the room. No such luck, he heard the large man come back into the room. He couldn't turn his head to look. The scarf was too tightly tied for him to move that much. After feeling and hearing the springs in the mattress shift, a sudden cold sensation could be felt on his feet. Ah, shit, his boots and socks were gone. Gilbert hissed as an ever colder section seemed to form at his ankles. Soon, whatever that cold thing was had been secured in place by small lengths of rope. If Gilbert could hazard a guess... it was probably that stupid water pipe Ivan was so fond of and it was apparently being used as a spreader bar. Great... just great. Not only was he about to be raped, it was going to be bondage style.
Footnote:
*Yebat (yeh-baht) = fuck (literally, used as an expletive) In Cyrillic: ебат
*Krolik (kroh-leek) = rabbit, bunny (affectionate) In Cyrillic: кролик
*Cyka (soo-kah) = bitch (expletive, insult) In Cyrillic: сука
(Note: I opted to transliterate it to "cyka" instead of "suka" for aesthetic reasons and because that is how I've grown used to seeing it transliterated.)