Alphabet Meme: Table
Don't ask. I've been absent for too long. I know. I won't make promises anymore.
I'm doing the Alphabet Meme with my friends from my cosplay group - this is for Dino.
Alphabet Meme: T for Table
Axis Powers Hetalia
Russia/America
Strong R for non-con
~400 words (Unbeta'ed)
He shouldn't have gone to that bar.
Out of everything that hurts, his facial muscles are by far the ones screaming the bloodiest vengeance at Alfred - a couple of his ribs are cracked and another pair is broken, one ankle got busted by the mix of a low kick and the presence of bar stools in the vicinity, his glasses are gone and his right eye doesn’t open beneath the purple bruise it has quickly become… and he is smiling. It’s a radiant, bright, enthusiastic, heroic, shit-eating smile - a smile that says America knows no defeat and takes no result as definite until it says he’s won, because that’s pretty much the only way to face Ivan pinning him to the tabletop and not break into tears.
“You’ve never learnt when to quit, dah?” Russia says sweetly, saccharine demeanor as incompatible as always to the strength he’s using to pin both of Alfred’s hands to the table. His voice is almost lost to the whispers of the bar around them - Vietnam and Korea went right back to serving the customers the moment Ivan subdued him, a crowd so used to Russia’s fluctuating mood just a select few keep watching Alfred’s current predicament unfold. He can tell it’s Cuba who’s taking bets by the bar on how long he’ll last. “’Think I’ll manage this time around?”
“You wish,” Alfred keeps grinning, even when Ivan punches his stomach - gasping for air as he is, trying to make a triumphant escape becomes too difficult to even think about, and he ends up being flipped to his back like a ragdoll. The worst part of it is Ivan’s pressing against his ass being the only thing holding him up, because his legs certainly aren’t up to the task.
“Isn’t it you who believes that wishing hard enough makes dreams come true?” Ivan whispers to his ear as he pulls one of his arms back, effectively threatening to dislocate his shoulder. As if he was going anywhere, anyhow. “I don’t mind trying.”
Alfred’s teeth rasp against the table, but he keeps on smiling. “Oh yes, Russia. Wish it hard and come true for me, pretty please,” he sneers, tilting his hips up to have his pants pulled down. If this is the game, he’s playing it and the audience had better enjoy it. “Try me all you can, but you’ll never have it all.”
“I love you too, Alfred,” Russia kisses mockery to his neck, pushes in, and Alfred is sore everywhere - inside and out and where it really matters - but his smile is always up.
I'm doing the Alphabet Meme with my friends from my cosplay group - this is for Dino.
Alphabet Meme: T for Table
Axis Powers Hetalia
Russia/America
Strong R for non-con
~400 words (Unbeta'ed)
He shouldn't have gone to that bar.
Out of everything that hurts, his facial muscles are by far the ones screaming the bloodiest vengeance at Alfred - a couple of his ribs are cracked and another pair is broken, one ankle got busted by the mix of a low kick and the presence of bar stools in the vicinity, his glasses are gone and his right eye doesn’t open beneath the purple bruise it has quickly become… and he is smiling. It’s a radiant, bright, enthusiastic, heroic, shit-eating smile - a smile that says America knows no defeat and takes no result as definite until it says he’s won, because that’s pretty much the only way to face Ivan pinning him to the tabletop and not break into tears.
“You’ve never learnt when to quit, dah?” Russia says sweetly, saccharine demeanor as incompatible as always to the strength he’s using to pin both of Alfred’s hands to the table. His voice is almost lost to the whispers of the bar around them - Vietnam and Korea went right back to serving the customers the moment Ivan subdued him, a crowd so used to Russia’s fluctuating mood just a select few keep watching Alfred’s current predicament unfold. He can tell it’s Cuba who’s taking bets by the bar on how long he’ll last. “’Think I’ll manage this time around?”
“You wish,” Alfred keeps grinning, even when Ivan punches his stomach - gasping for air as he is, trying to make a triumphant escape becomes too difficult to even think about, and he ends up being flipped to his back like a ragdoll. The worst part of it is Ivan’s pressing against his ass being the only thing holding him up, because his legs certainly aren’t up to the task.
“Isn’t it you who believes that wishing hard enough makes dreams come true?” Ivan whispers to his ear as he pulls one of his arms back, effectively threatening to dislocate his shoulder. As if he was going anywhere, anyhow. “I don’t mind trying.”
Alfred’s teeth rasp against the table, but he keeps on smiling. “Oh yes, Russia. Wish it hard and come true for me, pretty please,” he sneers, tilting his hips up to have his pants pulled down. If this is the game, he’s playing it and the audience had better enjoy it. “Try me all you can, but you’ll never have it all.”
“I love you too, Alfred,” Russia kisses mockery to his neck, pushes in, and Alfred is sore everywhere - inside and out and where it really matters - but his smile is always up.