USUK Literal 4a/?
anonymous
July 20 2011, 16:48:02 UTC
whyyyy did I sign up to do a smut fic? I don’t know how to write smut aaagh…
And on that note, I hope you all enjoy this. It’ll hopefully get better later…
America hesitated.
England knocked back the fourth bottle. Picked up another.
By the time England had knocked back the fifth bottle, America was holding his breath.
“That’s five…” he muttered, “No- no, Iggy, don’t get another one I really want you at least kind of awake!” he snatched England’s wrist as the old nation went for the minibar again. England scowled.
“Fine,” and stopped trying to reach the bar. “So?”
“Yes. Scotland came and talked to me. I admit it.”
“An’?”
America looked at England and took a deep breath, “…and it is a very, very tempting offer.”
One of England’s monstrous eyebrows rose. “Tha’s not an answer.”
“What’s an answer, then?”
”Are you fuckin’ ‘em or not?”
“…well that’s the question, isn’t it,” America sighed. He plopped down and spread himself out on the bed. “You won’t get mad at me if I kind of really want to, right? I mean, you’re sexy when you’re mad, but it’s a lot sexier when you aren’t mad at me.”
“They’re my brothers, why wouldn’t I get mad?” England growled, moving to tower over America at the side of the bed.
“I don’t know,” America said. “Because you used to call yourself the motherfucking British Empire and shouldn’t have an inferiority complex?” England frowned. “Okay, you’re still the motherfucking British Empire, sort of. You kept the eyebrows.”
“Your tongue, America."
“Well sorry, I just assumed you could keep your brothers from doing stuff if you really didn’t want them to do it!” America said, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed instead.
England blinked.
“…you could actually stop them, couldn’t you? I mean, you kind of represent their lands?”
“…fuck. I don’t know if I should be happy you have a brain or furious you caught that.”
“So you’re okay with it?”
“I never said that!” England crossed his arms and huffed as he sat down squarely on the bed. “Merely that if I had to, I have the capability to stop it.”
America was phenomenally quiet for a moment.
“…so you want me to do it?”
“I never said that either!”
“But you just said you could and you would if you didn’t want me to! How did you even find out? I thought they meant for me to tell you if I…uh…”
England’s monstrous eyebrows did a sort of tango on his face before settling into an incredulous raised position. “If they told you to break the news, then they were out for blood, love. No, Wales told me several weeks ago.”
“…so you knew about this the whole time?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth. It’s ridiculous.”
“But you knew about this?”
England sighed, “Yes. I did.”
“…so I’m getting to fuck the entire UK in a row?”
“For chrissakes, lad, get your mind out of the gutter! Here I was trying to guilt trip you and all you can think about is-”
England was silenced by America leaning over, wrapping tightly around England in a hug, and kissing him.
“Shut up. I’m getting to fuck you and your brohters,” America said. “And you’re letting me off with a guilt trip. This is a great moment for me. Don’t ruin my great moment.”
England huffed and pushed America off before wiping his mouth.
“All right, I won’t ruin your moment,” he said, “but because of my generosity, I assume you will repay me?”
America thought for a moment and fidgeted, “…I’ll let you top for a month, blow you for another week after that… and… uh… take you out for dinner somewhere that isn’t McDonalds.”
England grinned. “That’s my lad. And you’d better do well tomorrow, I won’t stand my brothers teasing me for having a boyfriend with no stamina.”
America laughed and hugged England again. “You are such a weird old man,” he said. “How’d you get sober that fast, anyway?”
England hummed and ran his fingers through America’s golden hair. It was about time to play barber, it seemed. “That’s a family secret.”
USUK Literal 4b/?
anonymous
July 20 2011, 16:54:12 UTC
The next evening, they set out headed north.
They arrived at Scotland’s border much more quickly than America was used to arriving at a border by car. England knew the exact roads to travel ever since he’d become the representative of his brother and they glided through the countryside without a single glance at a map, simply following his intuition to get to the correct building.
They arrived outside a small one-story country house with no other houses nearby. The hills around were just starting to become steep and trees were sparse around the road, but America could see the outline of what seemed to be a small forest against the skyline.
The cottage was lit from within, and a porch light above the front door lit the ground outside. It flickered occasionally. There were two other cars parked by the side of the road, but there was enough space nearby so America and England wouldn’t have had to walk far even if there were a few more cars.
England rapped sharply on the door as America watched the surrounding darkness suspiciously for wolves, bears and vampires (after that one time in Virginia as a child, he wasn’t taking a chance ever again).
Footsteps quickly approached on the other side of the door and it opened to Wales’ beaming face.
“You came!” he chirped, and stepped aside to let them in, “I thought Scotland might’ve scared you off.”
“Why would Scotland scare me?” America asked.
Wales shrugged, “Sometimes he just does that to people. I think he made it a battle tactic, once. To freak them out, I mean.”
England grumbled something under his breath.
“So yeah, do you need to use the bathroom first or something?” Wales said, ignoring his younger brother.
America blinked. “Wait, we’re doing it already?”
Wales chirped affirmative. “Why, did you skip dinner?”
“No!”
The room was very quiet. Wales and England stared at America. America coughed.
“Um… I mean… no, I ate. Uh… thanks for the offer, I’m fine.”
“…don’t compare our cooking with England’s.”
“He was not doing that! Don’t be an idiot, Wales. He’s just very full a-and- ”
Something CRASHED and all three of the nations jumped several feet into the air. Upon landing, they crouched low and panickedly looking around for some sign of an attacker, war scenarios running through their heads-
Scotland stood by a doorway with a large, dented leather tome that looked strangely the width of a phone book resting on a dented wooden table which now had four large dent marks in the old floor. “Huh,” he said, “I should use that more often.”
Wales, America and England straightened up, relaxing upon realizing where the sound came from.
“What was that for?” Wales scowled, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“We have names for a reason, you dolt,” England huffed.
“Am I the only one who notices he’s in a sk- kilt?” Ameica asked.
Scotland stared at him. “Good catch, there, lad. If ye’d finished tha’ word I might’ve had tae rend ye, an’ after all this trouble I don’ think anyone’d like that. Now come on, are we ‘ere to yell at me or fuck?”
“I don’t see why I can’t do both at the same time,” England muttered. Wales rolled his eyes and stepped on England’s foot. England yelped. America just smiled, shook his head and followed Scotland into the next room.
USUK Literal 4c/?
anonymous
July 20 2011, 17:00:51 UTC
Northern Ireland was already in the room waiting for them. It was a simple room, with several large windows, a king sized bed in the corner, and a couch and a few chairs on one of which North Ireland sat in the other, which America suspected had been moved into the room specifically for tonight.
Northern Ireland was a small man, but taller than both England and Wales, but just shorter than Scotland. He was lanky like Ireland but smooth and ruddy faced like Scotland, his hair was tinged a few shades closer to blond than either.
He stood as they came in, fidgeting. Wales swept beside him and said, “so you got the lube, right?” Northern Ireland nodded and gestured to two bottles on one of the plush chairs. “He’s not quite as experienced as some,” Wales informed America softly, to which Scotland gleefully added on.
“It’s England’s fault. ‘E was still a midget ‘til th’ 20s.”
Northern Ireland and England both began coughing loudly at the same time.
Wales glanced between them for a moment. “Uh, yeah,” he took England by the arm and led him to a chair, where England sat down, “Northern Ireland’s going to go first, then, ‘cause he doesn’t have a ton of experience and you might need to help him a bit.”
“I don’t need help,” Northern Ireland grumbled, but took one of the bottles of lube Scotland picked up and approached America anyway, still fidgeting a bit. He stopped just a few feet in front of America. “Um.”
“Yeah,” they watched each other. “Uh, you first?” America gestured to the bed. Northern Ireland haltingly turned, approached and sat on the bed. He kicked his shoes and socks off. America did the same.
“Your awkward is making me feel awkward,” Scotland helpfully shouted from his seat on the couch. “And I don’t even fancy m’self a very awkward person.”
“Shut up, Scotland. Think of how I feel,” England grumbled.
“You don’t feel. You ‘aven’t got a soul, Iggy.”
“Fuck you, you’re the ginger here, not me.”
“Oh, so Wales doesn’ count?”
“He dyes his hair. I’m sure he was blond when I was little.”
America and Northern Ireland found it was much less awkward if they ignored the other three countries in the room, and had settled themselves down on the bed by the time England and Scotland started paying attention again.
Shedding his coat and folding it carefully on the far side of the bed, America unbuttoned his shirt and let it flop gracelessly to the floor. Northern Ireland did the same, pulling his teeshirt off and exposing his skinny, bony chest. His hip bones peeked above his tight pants.
America reached over, took Northern Ireland by the forearms and pulled him into a short, closed-mouth kiss.
The awkwardness began disappearing a bit faster after that.
Northern Ireland’s bony chest fit nicely against America’s most muscular chest. He wrapped his arms around the small body and pulled him close enough to feel the bulge in Northern Ireland’s pants, and rubbed against it gently. The younger nation moaned softly.
Both their hands seemed to go for the others’ pants at the same time. Northern Ireland’s pants slid easily off, America’s kept getting caught on the bed and had to be jerked down to his knees at which point America kicked them off himself. Their underclothes went next in much the same fashion.
America reached down to stroke Northern Ireland, who was already rather hard. He must have been thinking about this for a while before America had arrived. Northern Ireland made another choked moaning sound and arched up a bit.
If he glanced out the corner of his eye, he could see that England was steadily turning a rather lovely shade of magenta.
After a moment of grinning smugly to himself, America noticed England and Scotland were sitting next to each other, but the other half of Scotland’s couch was conspicuously empty.
USUK Literal 4d/?
anonymous
July 20 2011, 17:11:32 UTC
Scotland, England and Northern Ireland all turned to where they thought Wales had been sitting just minutes previously. Wales apparently hadn’t simply become camouflaged; he was gone.
For a moment, they all stared at each other, Scotland and England looking moderately more unnerved than anyone else, when the door creaked.
“Why’s everyone standing around?” Wales asked.
England shot up from his seat, “Where were you just now?”
“Getting something,” Wales held up a hand to show the reason he left.
America felt something suspiciously like cold hard terror pool in his gut. Wales looked over at him and snickered.
“What’s with that face? You didn’t think you could actually get through all of us without some help, didn’t you? I don’t doubt your abilities or anything but, ah,” Wales leaned over and slipped the cock ring around America’s dick, “this makes things more fun.”
A/N
I just realized have no fucking idea how to write Northern Ireland or write smut. I’ve never lost confidence in my writing as suddenly as when the pants came off. I’ll just write his part quickly and hope the shame goes away…
Wales is secretly a devious little bastard, you know. And just think, poor England and Scotland had to grow up with him. I’m taking the middle ground in the debate over Wales’ haircolor: he dyes it to whatever he feels like.
The battle tactic Wales refers to way up in there, is, of course, Scotland’s nasty habit of flipping his kilt to moon/flash his enemies. It worked better than you would’ve thought. Remember last A/N when I said he does everything for teh lulz and is secretly a mad genius? UH, YEAH.
Northern Irealnd was a ‘midget’ until about 1925s because, um, he wasn’t exactly separate from Ireland… and so he was still a kid and it took him a couple years to get taller once he was separate… then again, a midget in their family isn’t muxh shorter than usual. They were just a bit reluctant to let him get out much, so he’s a bit inexperienced.
Headcanon: All the British Isle Bros know who the other British Isle Bros are fucking. It was pretty awkward during the Cold War with Scotland and Russia and England and America (and RusScot almost caused the AmEng to break up!) It’s gotten to the point where there are no secrets, so England would know beforehand what was planned. Sneaky bastard England, you. Also: England’s ‘f-bomb’ count goes up by one every time he’s in private. Everywhere but the bedroom he’s quite polite. And then you meet him somewhere alone and he drops them like catalpa flowers.
…the ‘relationship crisis’ gets solved so quickly it feels like a cop-out. Sorry about that. In fact, it’s fixed so quickly I was thinking of making it its own chapter and posting that on Sunday, but it just wasn’t worth it. America’s ‘that one time in Virginia’ is because Virginia used to have wolves, and it still has bears. I can’t confirm the vampires, though. I think Al read Dracula at some point, though, so he’s always going to be a little edgy in the nations’ territory if they have vampires anywhere in their lore.
Apologies for the soulless redhead joke. It just kind of happened. I actually love redheads. If the fact that I’m writing the British Isles as almost entirely redheaded didn’t make that clear.
Re: USUK Literal 4d/?
anonymous
July 20 2011, 19:24:14 UTC
DON'T WORRY AUTHOR ANON WE LOVE YOU <333
And don't worry about the smut. You look like you're making yourself nervous writing it, which is a thing smut can do to even the best of us. XD Just remember to show, don't tell, and go wild with the descriptions. (You'll feel better writing someone you have better characterized, also. So try to beef up on your NI headcanon.) That's all the advice I can offer, anyway.
Aside from that I can offer encouragement! Go, go, write, write!!! *cheerleads* I'm sure we'll love whatever you turn out, so don't get discouraged! :3
Why does captcha want me to type a graph. How does that even work.
Re: USUK Literal 4d/?
anonymous
July 20 2011, 22:07:39 UTC
:D Update!
I love how awkward Northern Ireland is about it all, and how blase the rest are. I kind of feel bad for Arthur - this must've been eating at him, and his liver must've been taking quite the beating. XD
*quietly adopts your Wales' hair colour headcanon*
If you don't mind unsolicited advice: just go for the smut! :D I really like the relationships you've been building up between Alfred & the UK brothers, and that's more than half the battle right there. :3 (One thing that helps me is to not edit until the scene's completely done. I go "It sucks. I know it sucks. DDD:" until I read it through as a whole, then I go "... It's actually okay.")
fyi, cock rings don't stop orgasm - they just keep blood in the cock longer, so it's harder for a longer period of time after orgasm. (This is a ridiculously common misconception, even in published porn. D:) If you want to prevent orgasm, you'd be better off with them squeezing fingers around the base of Alfred's cock before he reaches the no-return point and waiting a few seconds for him to relax & pull away from the edge.
Author!Anon here
anonymous
July 21 2011, 16:07:29 UTC
The UK bros have a lot of experience with sex and alcohol... his liver actually finds nothing too terrible anymore. If it survived the Am.Revolution, it can survive anything.
*is very happy to have converted someone*
Thanks for the advice, I'll try to just plow through, but I keep getting interrupted and going back up to reread and figure out what I was doing D8
Craaaap. The porn writers lied to me again! ...I'm sorry, I'm just going to go with the misconception, because I don't know how Al would last through four orgasms and I already have it on him D8 I will remember for future reference, though, and try to avoid it in any other things I write. Thanks.
And on that note, I hope you all enjoy this. It’ll hopefully get better later…
America hesitated.
England knocked back the fourth bottle. Picked up another.
By the time England had knocked back the fifth bottle, America was holding his breath.
“That’s five…” he muttered, “No- no, Iggy, don’t get another one I really want you at least kind of awake!” he snatched England’s wrist as the old nation went for the minibar again. England scowled.
“Fine,” and stopped trying to reach the bar. “So?”
“Yes. Scotland came and talked to me. I admit it.”
“An’?”
America looked at England and took a deep breath, “…and it is a very, very tempting offer.”
One of England’s monstrous eyebrows rose. “Tha’s not an answer.”
“What’s an answer, then?”
”Are you fuckin’ ‘em or not?”
“…well that’s the question, isn’t it,” America sighed. He plopped down and spread himself out on the bed. “You won’t get mad at me if I kind of really want to, right? I mean, you’re sexy when you’re mad, but it’s a lot sexier when you aren’t mad at me.”
“They’re my brothers, why wouldn’t I get mad?” England growled, moving to tower over America at the side of the bed.
“I don’t know,” America said. “Because you used to call yourself the motherfucking British Empire and shouldn’t have an inferiority complex?” England frowned. “Okay, you’re still the motherfucking British Empire, sort of. You kept the eyebrows.”
“Your tongue, America."
“Well sorry, I just assumed you could keep your brothers from doing stuff if you really didn’t want them to do it!” America said, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed instead.
England blinked.
“…you could actually stop them, couldn’t you? I mean, you kind of represent their lands?”
“…fuck. I don’t know if I should be happy you have a brain or furious you caught that.”
“So you’re okay with it?”
“I never said that!” England crossed his arms and huffed as he sat down squarely on the bed. “Merely that if I had to, I have the capability to stop it.”
America was phenomenally quiet for a moment.
“…so you want me to do it?”
“I never said that either!”
“But you just said you could and you would if you didn’t want me to! How did you even find out? I thought they meant for me to tell you if I…uh…”
England’s monstrous eyebrows did a sort of tango on his face before settling into an incredulous raised position. “If they told you to break the news, then they were out for blood, love. No, Wales told me several weeks ago.”
“…so you knew about this the whole time?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth. It’s ridiculous.”
“But you knew about this?”
England sighed, “Yes. I did.”
“…so I’m getting to fuck the entire UK in a row?”
“For chrissakes, lad, get your mind out of the gutter! Here I was trying to guilt trip you and all you can think about is-”
England was silenced by America leaning over, wrapping tightly around England in a hug, and kissing him.
“Shut up. I’m getting to fuck you and your brohters,” America said. “And you’re letting me off with a guilt trip. This is a great moment for me. Don’t ruin my great moment.”
England huffed and pushed America off before wiping his mouth.
“All right, I won’t ruin your moment,” he said, “but because of my generosity, I assume you will repay me?”
America thought for a moment and fidgeted, “…I’ll let you top for a month, blow you for another week after that… and… uh… take you out for dinner somewhere that isn’t McDonalds.”
England grinned. “That’s my lad. And you’d better do well tomorrow, I won’t stand my brothers teasing me for having a boyfriend with no stamina.”
America laughed and hugged England again. “You are such a weird old man,” he said. “How’d you get sober that fast, anyway?”
England hummed and ran his fingers through America’s golden hair. It was about time to play barber, it seemed. “That’s a family secret.”
“Oh come on!”
Reply
They arrived at Scotland’s border much more quickly than America was used to arriving at a border by car. England knew the exact roads to travel ever since he’d become the representative of his brother and they glided through the countryside without a single glance at a map, simply following his intuition to get to the correct building.
They arrived outside a small one-story country house with no other houses nearby. The hills around were just starting to become steep and trees were sparse around the road, but America could see the outline of what seemed to be a small forest against the skyline.
The cottage was lit from within, and a porch light above the front door lit the ground outside. It flickered occasionally. There were two other cars parked by the side of the road, but there was enough space nearby so America and England wouldn’t have had to walk far even if there were a few more cars.
England rapped sharply on the door as America watched the surrounding darkness suspiciously for wolves, bears and vampires (after that one time in Virginia as a child, he wasn’t taking a chance ever again).
Footsteps quickly approached on the other side of the door and it opened to Wales’ beaming face.
“You came!” he chirped, and stepped aside to let them in, “I thought Scotland might’ve scared you off.”
“Why would Scotland scare me?” America asked.
Wales shrugged, “Sometimes he just does that to people. I think he made it a battle tactic, once. To freak them out, I mean.”
England grumbled something under his breath.
“So yeah, do you need to use the bathroom first or something?” Wales said, ignoring his younger brother.
America blinked. “Wait, we’re doing it already?”
Wales chirped affirmative. “Why, did you skip dinner?”
“No!”
The room was very quiet. Wales and England stared at America. America coughed.
“Um… I mean… no, I ate. Uh… thanks for the offer, I’m fine.”
“…don’t compare our cooking with England’s.”
“He was not doing that! Don’t be an idiot, Wales. He’s just very full a-and- ”
Something CRASHED and all three of the nations jumped several feet into the air. Upon landing, they crouched low and panickedly looking around for some sign of an attacker, war scenarios running through their heads-
Scotland stood by a doorway with a large, dented leather tome that looked strangely the width of a phone book resting on a dented wooden table which now had four large dent marks in the old floor. “Huh,” he said, “I should use that more often.”
Wales, America and England straightened up, relaxing upon realizing where the sound came from.
“What was that for?” Wales scowled, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“We have names for a reason, you dolt,” England huffed.
“Am I the only one who notices he’s in a sk- kilt?” Ameica asked.
Scotland stared at him. “Good catch, there, lad. If ye’d finished tha’ word I might’ve had tae rend ye, an’ after all this trouble I don’ think anyone’d like that. Now come on, are we ‘ere to yell at me or fuck?”
“I don’t see why I can’t do both at the same time,” England muttered. Wales rolled his eyes and stepped on England’s foot. England yelped. America just smiled, shook his head and followed Scotland into the next room.
Reply
Northern Ireland was a small man, but taller than both England and Wales, but just shorter than Scotland. He was lanky like Ireland but smooth and ruddy faced like Scotland, his hair was tinged a few shades closer to blond than either.
He stood as they came in, fidgeting. Wales swept beside him and said, “so you got the lube, right?” Northern Ireland nodded and gestured to two bottles on one of the plush chairs. “He’s not quite as experienced as some,” Wales informed America softly, to which Scotland gleefully added on.
“It’s England’s fault. ‘E was still a midget ‘til th’ 20s.”
Northern Ireland and England both began coughing loudly at the same time.
Wales glanced between them for a moment. “Uh, yeah,” he took England by the arm and led him to a chair, where England sat down, “Northern Ireland’s going to go first, then, ‘cause he doesn’t have a ton of experience and you might need to help him a bit.”
“I don’t need help,” Northern Ireland grumbled, but took one of the bottles of lube Scotland picked up and approached America anyway, still fidgeting a bit. He stopped just a few feet in front of America. “Um.”
“Yeah,” they watched each other. “Uh, you first?” America gestured to the bed. Northern Ireland haltingly turned, approached and sat on the bed. He kicked his shoes and socks off. America did the same.
“Your awkward is making me feel awkward,” Scotland helpfully shouted from his seat on the couch. “And I don’t even fancy m’self a very awkward person.”
“Shut up, Scotland. Think of how I feel,” England grumbled.
“You don’t feel. You ‘aven’t got a soul, Iggy.”
“Fuck you, you’re the ginger here, not me.”
“Oh, so Wales doesn’ count?”
“He dyes his hair. I’m sure he was blond when I was little.”
America and Northern Ireland found it was much less awkward if they ignored the other three countries in the room, and had settled themselves down on the bed by the time England and Scotland started paying attention again.
Shedding his coat and folding it carefully on the far side of the bed, America unbuttoned his shirt and let it flop gracelessly to the floor. Northern Ireland did the same, pulling his teeshirt off and exposing his skinny, bony chest. His hip bones peeked above his tight pants.
America reached over, took Northern Ireland by the forearms and pulled him into a short, closed-mouth kiss.
The awkwardness began disappearing a bit faster after that.
Northern Ireland’s bony chest fit nicely against America’s most muscular chest. He wrapped his arms around the small body and pulled him close enough to feel the bulge in Northern Ireland’s pants, and rubbed against it gently. The younger nation moaned softly.
Both their hands seemed to go for the others’ pants at the same time. Northern Ireland’s pants slid easily off, America’s kept getting caught on the bed and had to be jerked down to his knees at which point America kicked them off himself. Their underclothes went next in much the same fashion.
America reached down to stroke Northern Ireland, who was already rather hard. He must have been thinking about this for a while before America had arrived. Northern Ireland made another choked moaning sound and arched up a bit.
If he glanced out the corner of his eye, he could see that England was steadily turning a rather lovely shade of magenta.
After a moment of grinning smugly to himself, America noticed England and Scotland were sitting next to each other, but the other half of Scotland’s couch was conspicuously empty.
“Hey, guys, where’d Wales go?”
Reply
For a moment, they all stared at each other, Scotland and England looking moderately more unnerved than anyone else, when the door creaked.
“Why’s everyone standing around?” Wales asked.
England shot up from his seat, “Where were you just now?”
“Getting something,” Wales held up a hand to show the reason he left.
America felt something suspiciously like cold hard terror pool in his gut. Wales looked over at him and snickered.
“What’s with that face? You didn’t think you could actually get through all of us without some help, didn’t you? I don’t doubt your abilities or anything but, ah,” Wales leaned over and slipped the cock ring around America’s dick, “this makes things more fun.”
A/N
I just realized have no fucking idea how to write Northern Ireland or write smut. I’ve never lost confidence in my writing as suddenly as when the pants came off. I’ll just write his part quickly and hope the shame goes away…
Wales is secretly a devious little bastard, you know. And just think, poor England and Scotland had to grow up with him.
I’m taking the middle ground in the debate over Wales’ haircolor: he dyes it to whatever he feels like.
The battle tactic Wales refers to way up in there, is, of course, Scotland’s nasty habit of flipping his kilt to moon/flash his enemies. It worked better than you would’ve thought. Remember last A/N when I said he does everything for teh lulz and is secretly a mad genius? UH, YEAH.
Northern Irealnd was a ‘midget’ until about 1925s because, um, he wasn’t exactly separate from Ireland… and so he was still a kid and it took him a couple years to get taller once he was separate… then again, a midget in their family isn’t muxh shorter than usual. They were just a bit reluctant to let him get out much, so he’s a bit inexperienced.
Headcanon: All the British Isle Bros know who the other British Isle Bros are fucking. It was pretty awkward during the Cold War with Scotland and Russia and England and America (and RusScot almost caused the AmEng to break up!) It’s gotten to the point where there are no secrets, so England would know beforehand what was planned. Sneaky bastard England, you. Also: England’s ‘f-bomb’ count goes up by one every time he’s in private. Everywhere but the bedroom he’s quite polite. And then you meet him somewhere alone and he drops them like catalpa flowers.
…the ‘relationship crisis’ gets solved so quickly it feels like a cop-out. Sorry about that. In fact, it’s fixed so quickly I was thinking of making it its own chapter and posting that on Sunday, but it just wasn’t worth it. America’s ‘that one time in Virginia’ is because Virginia used to have wolves, and it still has bears. I can’t confirm the vampires, though. I think Al read Dracula at some point, though, so he’s always going to be a little edgy in the nations’ territory if they have vampires anywhere in their lore.
Apologies for the soulless redhead joke. It just kind of happened. I actually love redheads. If the fact that I’m writing the British Isles as almost entirely redheaded didn’t make that clear.
tl;dr. I’ll go shut up now.
Reply
And don't worry about the smut. You look like you're making yourself nervous writing it, which is a thing smut can do to even the best of us. XD Just remember to show, don't tell, and go wild with the descriptions. (You'll feel better writing someone you have better characterized, also. So try to beef up on your NI headcanon.) That's all the advice I can offer, anyway.
Aside from that I can offer encouragement! Go, go, write, write!!! *cheerleads* I'm sure we'll love whatever you turn out, so don't get discouraged! :3
Why does captcha want me to type a graph. How does that even work.
Reply
I love how awkward Northern Ireland is about it all, and how blase the rest are. I kind of feel bad for Arthur - this must've been eating at him, and his liver must've been taking quite the beating. XD
*quietly adopts your Wales' hair colour headcanon*
If you don't mind unsolicited advice: just go for the smut! :D I really like the relationships you've been building up between Alfred & the UK brothers, and that's more than half the battle right there. :3 (One thing that helps me is to not edit until the scene's completely done. I go "It sucks. I know it sucks. DDD:" until I read it through as a whole, then I go "... It's actually okay.")
fyi, cock rings don't stop orgasm - they just keep blood in the cock longer, so it's harder for a longer period of time after orgasm. (This is a ridiculously common misconception, even in published porn. D:) If you want to prevent orgasm, you'd be better off with them squeezing fingers around the base of Alfred's cock before he reaches the no-return point and waiting a few seconds for him to relax & pull away from the edge.
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*is very happy to have converted someone*
Thanks for the advice, I'll try to just plow through, but I keep getting interrupted and going back up to reread and figure out what I was doing D8
Craaaap. The porn writers lied to me again!
...I'm sorry, I'm just going to go with the misconception, because I don't know how Al would last through four orgasms and I already have it on him D8 I will remember for future reference, though, and try to avoid it in any other things I write. Thanks.
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Because you make me laugh SO. HARD. No but seriously there is something in your writing that's just indescribably funny. (Like, good funny....)
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No seriously this is great, I was so hoping for someone to fill this. Sadly there aren't enough fills about the UK bros here =(
I love you and this great story ^^ keep going ! I'm eagerly waiting for the next update.
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