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captain-catfish.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hetalia2009-04-21 10:08 pm
captain-catfish.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2009-04-21 10:08 pm
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A quick fic. I've been listening to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
taure's RussLiet FST for the past forever and loving it. I wanted to write something...
This also happens to be the first fic I've written in a LONG time.
Title: Untitled
Author/Artist:captain_catfish
Character(s) or Pairing(s): dark!Ivan/Toris
Rating: Nothing graphic; PG-13 for suggestiveness/violence
Warnings: Sex...ual? + some abuse
Summary: Why Toris couldn't go to someone more trustworthy with his problems was a mystery to him...
You’re evil.
He doesn’t shudder but he will never enjoy this sort of treatment. It is not full-fledged force, not the hot, wrathful advance that one would expect. It was a slow, cold, calculating takeover all too characteristic of the tall blonde creep helping himself to the back of his neck.
He should be used to the pain by now, but it still came as a shock every time. Ivan always managed to find a new spot to scar.
His back has been torn up so badly by now.
He knew it would be much easier to be with someone he trusted. No matter how irresponsible even Feliks may seem, it was always a better idea than turning to…this man.
It was as good as asking to be abused.
And not a single momentary comfort ever came of it. Of course it came with the promise of protection, but included the consequence of domination. He was offering himself up to be crushed and cut on. And of course this was what his protector enjoyed the most.
But it was better than nothing
He could never call it a love-hate relationship because there was no love involved. He was pinned to the wall, he was bruised, he was beaten, and there was no love in that haunting smile plastered on the Russian’s face.
Look what you’ve done to yourself, Toris.
Massage the wounds with liquored hands. Alcohol will numb the pain now, stay still and let it seep in.
It’s hard to suspend a strangled yell as the chilly fire is rubbed into the tears in his side, the scars on his back. Instead he pants, he breathes shakily, he keeps the pain bottled inside. It burns, tearing at the exposed tissue like some wild animal fire. But in reality it’s only spirits.
He could say Ivan is himself like vodka. He burns going down, but later will come a comforting numb sensation if you take enough of him.
It seems Toris will never have enough of him.
[ps to all of those folks who've requested art here - I haven't forgotten about you! ;A; My tablet's just been acting really out of whack sob sob]
taure's RussLiet FST for the past forever and loving it. I wanted to write something...This also happens to be the first fic I've written in a LONG time.
Title: Untitled
Author/Artist:
captain_catfishCharacter(s) or Pairing(s): dark!Ivan/Toris
Rating: Nothing graphic; PG-13 for suggestiveness/violence
Warnings: Sex...ual? + some abuse
Summary: Why Toris couldn't go to someone more trustworthy with his problems was a mystery to him...
You’re evil.
He doesn’t shudder but he will never enjoy this sort of treatment. It is not full-fledged force, not the hot, wrathful advance that one would expect. It was a slow, cold, calculating takeover all too characteristic of the tall blonde creep helping himself to the back of his neck.
He should be used to the pain by now, but it still came as a shock every time. Ivan always managed to find a new spot to scar.
His back has been torn up so badly by now.
He knew it would be much easier to be with someone he trusted. No matter how irresponsible even Feliks may seem, it was always a better idea than turning to…this man.
It was as good as asking to be abused.
And not a single momentary comfort ever came of it. Of course it came with the promise of protection, but included the consequence of domination. He was offering himself up to be crushed and cut on. And of course this was what his protector enjoyed the most.
But it was better than nothing
He could never call it a love-hate relationship because there was no love involved. He was pinned to the wall, he was bruised, he was beaten, and there was no love in that haunting smile plastered on the Russian’s face.
Look what you’ve done to yourself, Toris.
Massage the wounds with liquored hands. Alcohol will numb the pain now, stay still and let it seep in.
It’s hard to suspend a strangled yell as the chilly fire is rubbed into the tears in his side, the scars on his back. Instead he pants, he breathes shakily, he keeps the pain bottled inside. It burns, tearing at the exposed tissue like some wild animal fire. But in reality it’s only spirits.
He could say Ivan is himself like vodka. He burns going down, but later will come a comforting numb sensation if you take enough of him.
It seems Toris will never have enough of him.
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