And England Has a Secret, too (19a/19)
anonymous
July 14 2011, 19:57:59 UTC
oh, above was supposed to be (18/?). and here is it. If you don't like OOCness, England being an extreme asshole, America being completely hopeless and way too oblivious like a teenager in love, and possibly dark-ish themes, do ignore this. o_o ---
He was walking out of the commercial building, walking towards America’s car, both his hands with something he bought especially for his lover.
He opened the door, he would be driving, since America’s belly wouldn’t let him do that comfortably.
“So?” His pregnant boyfriend asked, hands protectively over his swollen, perfectly round and firm stomach. He didn’t have any clothes that fitted him well by now so his shirt was folded over his abdomen, pants low on his hips, his beloved jacket thrown over his shoulder to keep him warm.
England just smiled at him. No one knew how that had happened, how America managed to get pregnant, something that not even female nations could do. Everyone was shocked, used of their technology, but nothing, they have no clue on how. Just him. Oh, just England knew how evil his little, apparently docile fairies could (and were supposed to) be. So, they decided to pull this small prank on America, much to England’s pleasure. He knew he also could undo that, could force the fairies to make that disappear, but not now, he still had a few months. America had been desperate, he didn’t have idea where exactly those children (yes, children, because he was waiting twins) where exactly on his tummy, and he definitely didn’t know how he would give... Give birth to them. England suggested they’d just figure it out, that he could get a C-section or something. That there was nothing to worry about - he had control over that after all. America didn’t need to know, but he did. He could choose when he wanted the children to born, if so at all. He knew America would feel sad if the babies died, but maybe he just didn’t want to spare their lives, and his fairies were also terrible enough to accomplish his little selfish wish.
“So I bought you a present.” He said, handing the flat, brown box he had on his hands to America, and hid the small bottle he also had, ripping the label that said ‘prolactin hormone’ and handed it to America, too. “And here, your pills.”
“Oh, thanks!” He said, accepting both things, but any kind of movement has been hard to do because of the size his belly has been growing. “But really, they haven’t been so useful. I’m still, eh, you know.”
Yes, America was still lactating. He knew very well. England managed a smile, kissing the boy’s face. “But don’t give up, okay?” His voice was small and soothing, as his fingertips started to run down America’s stomach, and he felt the boy squirming lightly - he knew how sensitive he had gotten there.
“O-Okay.” He said, a bit insecure, and soon his lover’s lips were covering his, in a quick, lovingly kiss. Ah, he loved that boy so much, so much. And he was so, so beautiful, England wanted to keep him in a glass so no one else would be able to reach him. He would kiss America’s belly tonight, kiss and lick and nibble and hear the younger moan and hiss, he couldn’t wait. He loved how he needed England’s help to do anything, he loved how firm, but still soft because of the layers of fat under his skin, his belly was, he loved the gentle, but noticiable arch on his back. Loved watching him touching himself there, feeling the small humans inside of him kicking. And loved, most of all, how easily America got embarrassed because of that, how easily he’d cry and how much he felt needy of a compliment, a word of encouragement. How much he needed England. How big and round he was. It was just perfect.
And England Has a Secret, too (19b/19)
anonymous
July 14 2011, 20:06:42 UTC
He kissed his face one more time, over his closed eyelids, and then concentrated on starting and driving the car, so he wouldn’t start to drive on the wrong side of the road. America opened the box, and he really didn’t expect what he saw.
It was a dress. Not a simple dress. A white, short, depraved wedding dress. With gloves and a long veil and all. Also a pair of white fishnets. He was quite speechless, while England was driving as if nothing was wrong.
“I-”
“You’ll be wearing it for me tonight.” Again, not a question.
“Uh. Okay I... Guess.” What more could he say? He could give the dress a shot, whatever England’s reasons are. Well, at least, England would be happy, he supposed. He tried to comfort himself with it. He just hoped England remembered his size had to be kind of really big, since the thing full of laces and bows was awfully small.
He was also reminded to don’t forget to take his pills, and even if he was a still a bit concerned about it just not going to work anyway, he would do anyway. Because it was England asking and he trusted and loved England. His hand rested on his lover’s thigh gently, as they made their way to McDonald’s for a quick snack.
--- the end! hooray. This was my first fill and I'm really nervous, but I had... fun writing this, i think. i'll probably stick to the art fills from now on though haha... also look at me shoving my silly wedding dress fetish on fanfics, ugh. i'm sorry for the big fail and hopefully someone can enjoy this. :3
Re: And England Has a Secret, too (19b/19)
anonymous
July 14 2011, 23:34:45 UTC
I don't have a lactation kink. I don't have a chub kink. I was just bored and hadn't read any USUK in ages. But anon, this is the most sexy thing I've read on the 'meme in awhile and it will be a horrible crime against porn if you never wrote again. This was so hot and I want there to be more pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. Go find more porn to write so I can fawn over you. ;-;
and here is it. If you don't like OOCness, England being an extreme asshole, America being completely hopeless and way too oblivious like a teenager in love, and possibly dark-ish themes, do ignore this. o_o
---
He was walking out of the commercial building, walking towards America’s car, both his hands with something he bought especially for his lover.
He opened the door, he would be driving, since America’s belly wouldn’t let him do that comfortably.
“So?” His pregnant boyfriend asked, hands protectively over his swollen, perfectly round and firm stomach. He didn’t have any clothes that fitted him well by now so his shirt was folded over his abdomen, pants low on his hips, his beloved jacket thrown over his shoulder to keep him warm.
England just smiled at him. No one knew how that had happened, how America managed to get pregnant, something that not even female nations could do. Everyone was shocked, used of their technology, but nothing, they have no clue on how. Just him. Oh, just England knew how evil his little, apparently docile fairies could (and were supposed to) be. So, they decided to pull this small prank on America, much to England’s pleasure. He knew he also could undo that, could force the fairies to make that disappear, but not now, he still had a few months. America had been desperate, he didn’t have idea where exactly those children (yes, children, because he was waiting twins) where exactly on his tummy, and he definitely didn’t know how he would give... Give birth to them. England suggested they’d just figure it out, that he could get a C-section or something. That there was nothing to worry about - he had control over that after all. America didn’t need to know, but he did. He could choose when he wanted the children to born, if so at all. He knew America would feel sad if the babies died, but maybe he just didn’t want to spare their lives, and his fairies were also terrible enough to accomplish his little selfish wish.
“So I bought you a present.” He said, handing the flat, brown box he had on his hands to America, and hid the small bottle he also had, ripping the label that said ‘prolactin hormone’ and handed it to America, too. “And here, your pills.”
“Oh, thanks!” He said, accepting both things, but any kind of movement has been hard to do because of the size his belly has been growing. “But really, they haven’t been so useful. I’m still, eh, you know.”
Yes, America was still lactating. He knew very well. England managed a smile, kissing the boy’s face. “But don’t give up, okay?” His voice was small and soothing, as his fingertips started to run down America’s stomach, and he felt the boy squirming lightly - he knew how sensitive he had gotten there.
“O-Okay.” He said, a bit insecure, and soon his lover’s lips were covering his, in a quick, lovingly kiss. Ah, he loved that boy so much, so much. And he was so, so beautiful, England wanted to keep him in a glass so no one else would be able to reach him. He would kiss America’s belly tonight, kiss and lick and nibble and hear the younger moan and hiss, he couldn’t wait. He loved how he needed England’s help to do anything, he loved how firm, but still soft because of the layers of fat under his skin, his belly was, he loved the gentle, but noticiable arch on his back. Loved watching him touching himself there, feeling the small humans inside of him kicking. And loved, most of all, how easily America got embarrassed because of that, how easily he’d cry and how much he felt needy of a compliment, a word of encouragement. How much he needed England. How big and round he was. It was just perfect.
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It was a dress. Not a simple dress. A white, short, depraved wedding dress. With gloves and a long veil and all. Also a pair of white fishnets. He was quite speechless, while England was driving as if nothing was wrong.
“I-”
“You’ll be wearing it for me tonight.” Again, not a question.
“Uh. Okay I... Guess.” What more could he say? He could give the dress a shot, whatever England’s reasons are. Well, at least, England would be happy, he supposed. He tried to comfort himself with it. He just hoped England remembered his size had to be kind of really big, since the thing full of laces and bows was awfully small.
He was also reminded to don’t forget to take his pills, and even if he was a still a bit concerned about it just not going to work anyway, he would do anyway. Because it was England asking and he trusted and loved England. His hand rested on his lover’s thigh gently, as they made their way to McDonald’s for a quick snack.
---
the end! hooray. This was my first fill and I'm really nervous, but I had... fun writing this, i think. i'll probably stick to the art fills from now on though haha... also look at me shoving my silly wedding dress fetish on fanfics, ugh. i'm sorry for the big fail and hopefully someone can enjoy this. :3
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Having said that, I fapped to this twice. :I
I might as well buy my train ticket to Hell in advance.
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