and yet another thing thats added to the list “Why Am I Looking This Up”

the things i do for writing

posted 9 hours ago with 0 notes

Title: Choco-la-ta-ta-ta-ta, pt. 9

Words: 1815

Rating: E

Summary: An entirely self-indulgent, cliche fic in which Bertholdt is allowed to wear a skirt at his high school, and has a huge, embarrassing crush on the linebacker of the football team, Reiner Braun.

AO3//Part 1//Part 8

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Title: A Purple Hue

Words: 3851

Rating: E

Summary: Reibert PWP, dom/sub stuff with orgasm control


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“Sorry I don’t draw often but when I do it’s usually reibert, one of these are based on this lovely fic http://archiveofourown.org/works/1197177/chapters/2443932 if you enjoy this pairing then you most definitely like this fanfic!”
oh my GOD………………………..OHM Y GOD




Sorry I don’t draw often but when I do it’s usually reibert, one of these are based on this lovely fic http://archiveofourown.org/works/1197177/chapters/2443932 if you enjoy this pairing then you most definitely like this fanfic!”

oh my GOD………………………..OHM Y GOD

this was meant to be the starting to the fem!bertholdt/reiner fic thing im writing for nino. but i found it really dumb and im going to redo it entirely, so i thought i could dump it here before i do

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posted 1 week ago with 3 notes



For: corbaccio

The darkness filling the room was making Ivan’s eyelids feel like bags of sand. With his head propped in his hand, he blankly stared at the flickering screen of the projector, which showed some documentary reviewing the second World War. Ivan was interested in war history, but he didn’t get much sleep last night, working his part-time job at a 24/7 diner. He sighed deeply as a nuclear explosion erupted across the screen, illuminating all the students’ faces.

About twenty minutes later, the class thankfully ended, and the students darted out the room with their things barely in their bags. Ivan followed after them tiredly. Two more classes left until he can go home and pass out. Maybe he would be lucky, and run into Mr. Kirkland after the final bell.

Meet me @ classroom

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Anonymous said: Grapholagnia, RusEng or FrUK


Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures.


Being only in his senior year of highschool, Francis wondered if he was too young for this. Sure, simple sex could be expected in this age nowadays, but what he did with his classmate was bizarre compared. 

All he remembered was that his “friend with benefits” had escalated into something more. Until then, he hadn’t really thought of it, nor had he known he had a thing for it. But when they did their first Session, it was eating at his mind ever since.

Arthur, his partner, consented him to bind him, to strip him of any control, and pleasure him. Francis had no dissent with the idea, so he went along with it. Apparently, Arthur knew everything there was to know regarding bondage and the like, so all he had to do was to be taught how to properly handle tools, ropes, and the like. 

But it was during one of their recent Sessions, when Arthur requested him to take pictures, memories, of their actions. Francis thought it to be a bit risky, seeing as these pictures could be found on his laptop or wherever, but he obliged. Before, he was enveloped with the image of Arthur tied up and begging only in his mind, but now he had photographic material of it. 

During the school hours, he yearned to take glances at these pictures. Previously, he hadn’t moved any to his phone, nor taken any, not to risk one of his friends going through the gallery, or of the like. So, they only remained in his laptop, as well as his camera. He itched to have a glance during the final period of the day, and was becoming unnerved and impatient. 

By the time the bell rang, he basically hauled himself out of the room, his books barely inside his bag. He was brief to say a hello to his friends, and took a few minutes to talk to Arthur about this topic, before waving goodbye (he never displayed actions of affection in public - Arthur insisted on keeping their sexual relationship private and unannounced), and then all but ran to his car. 

He was anxious when he pulled in front of his house. He knew his father was out for work, so there was no reason to worry. Realizing this, he relaxed, and took his time to park his vehicle, grab his various things from the passenger seat, and then make his way to the front steps. 

But when he made it inside, after locking the door behind him, he threw his bag onto the couch and then strode to the staircase, before quickly ascending them, only to swiftly pace to his bedroom down the hall. 

Upon entering his room, he took a hurried seat at the bed, and withdrew his laptop from the desk it rested on, before he rested against the headrest of his bed. Propping his laptop on his legs, he pulled it open and let it load, to hastily type in his password. 

And when he went to his pictures library to open up the folder that was labeled simply “Arthur”, he suddenly felt hot in his clothing.

It was when he opened the first one, he swallowed heavily and licked his lips, leaning forward a little, as if to get a better look. It was of Arthur sitting on this very bed, propped up on his shins, his legs spread with his arms secured behind his back, and a blindfold over his eyes. Instantly, Francis felt a familiar pooling sensation in his abdomen.

Francis wondered when his father was coming back. 

Anonymous said: hrrrrrrrrm whats a really upsetting combination of things how about cagamosis, ayurnamat, and tarantism that works write whatever paring u want


Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage.

Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.

Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.


As things usually go, Arthur had already lost interest in this relationship. From the start of their marriage, things were easy going. On the day Francis met him in the little cafe he was working at at the time, he knew he had found love. But apparently, not everlasting. 

It was a shame, really. He had hoped to find true love, but this was far from true. In the past, Francis was unpredictable. Unpredictable and passionate and full of life. Well, perhaps he still was. But it was all routine and dreadfully tedious. Now, he was all but too predictable.

Predictable as in trying too hard to please Arthur. It was irritating. But, Arthur learned to cope with his dissatisfaction, seeing as he was used to this sort of dilemma.

To describe it in an understanding way, it was like eating a piece of chocolate cake. First, at sweet and left you yearning for more. But as you took multiple bites, it became bland and mediocre. And then, it only left you with a bad after taste. Nothing to be desired.

Arthur wasn’t sure how Francis felt, but he knew he had to keep a strong core and shell, for his love. 

It was during another routine day, after their morning breakfast and Arthur’s brief cleaning of the house, when he was retired on the couch reading a novel, with Francis by his side, on his laptop. He had glanced over at the Frenchman, seeing his hair tied back loosely, with his reading glasses propped on his nose. 

Clearing his throat, Arthur shut his book. It earned Francis’ attention, a soft smile ghosting over his thin lips.

Flickering his eyes to Francis’, he strained a smile of his own. “You know what we haven’t done in a while, love?”, he spoke softly, his eyelids falling lightly over his eyes. Scooting closer to him, Francis brought his arm up to curl it around his husband’s shoulders. “Non.”, he murmured in his seductive, husky voice, and then pressed a tender kiss to his lips, but briefly.

Arthur smiled, “Danced.”

Pausing, Francis blinked a few times. Arthur instantly recognized the look of disappointment in his eyes, and then laughed internally a little. How predictable of Francis.

Francis rubbed Arthur’s shoulder lightly, and nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. But haven’t you danced lately? Perhaps demonstrating steps to your students?”, he inquired, tilting his head lightly. Arthur hummed, and then nodded, “Yes, but I’m talking about you and me.”

"Well, then let’s dance.", Francis replied with a light, eager tone, before he set his laptop aside and grabbed Arthur’s hands, standing and pulling him up. Arthur smiled genuinely.

"Oh!", Francis began, dropping Arthur’s hands to turn back to his laptop, "Let me put on that one piece by Mozart, like we danced to before." Arthur knew he was speaking of their very first dance; it was when he invited him to his dancing class’ event. How long ago was that?

Brushing his thoughts away, Arthur exhaled, and closed his eyes, trying to relax his tense shoulders while Francis played the song. Upon hearing the first soft notes, Arthur opened his eyes again to see Francis reaching out to take hold of his hand gently, and guide him to the center of the living room. 

He could see the look of tenderness and love in Francis’ endless blue eyes, and it brought this tight feeling in his chest. Dropping his eyes, Arthur raised his hand to place it delicately over Francis’ shoulder, and then felt a hand curve around his waist, the hand holding his lift. Soon enough, they were slow dancing in silence, the music of their first intimacy enveloping them in brighter and happier memories of their love.

Warmth In More Ways Than One 


Summary: Bertholdt is awakened by another nightmare, but cannot fall asleep due to the cold. So he asks Reiner if they could share a bed for warmth. Reiner, being the considerate best friend he is, obliges.

Words: 998

Read it on FF.net!

okay I just wanted to write reibert cuddling

Anonymous said: I know you're not really hetalia fandom anymore, but FrUK? Prompt being subway rides?


I don’t really find myself to be pleasing to the eye. I’ve got crooked teeth, a lanky body, a mean glare, and bursts of freckles across my nose that doesn’t compliment my features like they should. The only things I’ve got going regarding my appearance are my eyes and maybe my hair. So I don’t get why I’m always stared at on the tube.

At first I thought I was wearing something backwards or there was something on my face, but over time I realized that those stares were of a different nature. It became apparent when the flirting started. 

I’ve grown to ignore it, but one day on my way to work, on the tube, one of those stares caught my attention. I swear I’m not self-absorbed or anything like that, but this guy was just staring right through my clothes. It was unnerving, but what was bothering me more than that, was that he knew I caught him in the act, but all he did was glance into my eyes, before sweeping his disgusting blue eyes down my body again. Asshole. 

In response to that, I crossed my arms, and narrowed my eyes at him, until he bothered meeting gazes. Then he gave me a teeth-revealing smirk, the bastard, and leaned back in his seat, propping his cheek in his hand as he cocked a teasing brow. 

Luckily, it was just my stop, so before I could give him a fist to the face, I jumped out with my bag and quickened my stride.

Three days later, around the same time I was heading to work, that same long-haired jerk was there, on the tube. After realizing he was standing by the door, eyes downcast to his phone, I pushed in and went as far from him as possible, and took a seat near the back. It was fairly empty today, surprisingly. Five minutes later, I feel an intense stare on me, and then shortly, the same guy takes a seat across from me and I’m about to punch his lights out for even looking at me when he speaks.

"Headed somewhere?"

He asks this stupidly obvious question in the most thick French accent I’ve ever heard. 

"Are you serious," I deadpan, and he gives me a charming smile. Okay, maybe he wasn’t so bad himself. Maybe.