In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
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hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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England scowls, and sips his tea through increasingly pursed lips.
His third glance at the clock in as many seconds, and the thought invades his mind that perhaps he should just leave, call an end to this foolishness, but that, of course, is America's cue to come wandering through the door.
England's first thought is, bloody hell, those mud stains are never coming out of the carpet, and then his mind is a blank slate altogether, because America is dancing through the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of muddy trousers, and he has a rainbow peace sign painted on his cheek.
He manages to come out of it just enough to recognise the song that America is humming is, in fact, one of England's own. His heart swells, but not nearly enough to sate the anger coursing through him.
"Where the flying fuck have you been?!" England demands, but America's attention is distinctly elsewhere. He scampers across the room to where England is seated, and flops down on the floor next to the coffee table.
"Are those sandwiches?" America asks in between song lyrics, "Man, you will not believe where I've been."
England watches in morbid fascination as America picks up a sandwich, and instead of eating like a normal bloody person, begins pulling the thing apart, peeling off a cucumber slice and holding it up to one eye.
"Woah!" America giggles, "Oh man, woah, dude, dude!"
"Stop that, you idiot!" England shouts, barely drawing America's attention.
"Have you seen one of these before? It's like, like the universe is existing all up in there, you know? Everyone, and everything, is all in this vegetable. Fruit. Vegetable. But like, it can all just vanish. Like that," and America eats the cucumber.
"You won't believe where I've been. No, no, seriously! You totally won't!"
"If I won't believe it then why don't you bloody well tell me?!" England demands with the dawning realisation that he's taking to even more of a brick wall than usual.
Brick walls, at least, do not giggle at cucumbers.
America squints at him, and England wonders vaguely where his spectacles went. "Okay so, there was this concert. Man. And it was epic."
England stares at him blankly. He feels his fingers twitch, and reminds himself firmly that strangling the nation will not allow him to explain more easily, but it's a very near thing when he hears America's continuation.
"So you know how there are things, but things that aren't really things because they are other things?" America blinks expectantly at England's collarbone, and waits until England's fingers twitch again before getting to his utterly ridiculous point, "The people were like a sea, and there was mud, because it was a muddy sea, see?"
"Bloody hell, I'm going to murder you," England mutters, because he's just realised it's the truth.
America grins brightly at him.
"I'm supposed to be discussing important things with you, like international relations and the damned war, not, not babysitting you while you come off your high!" England shouts after a brief moment of absolute silence.
He glares fiercely down at America, who seems to be thinking very intently.
England hopes momentarily that he's not entirely bereft of his senses, before America rolls his eyes impressively and protests, "I'm not high, England! I'm on the ground, see? Nice ground, all soft and squishy and," America cuts himself off with a giggle before flinging himself onto the carpet, trying in vain to give it a hug, "I love you, ground!"
"I hate you so much right now."
"Hate is a thing of the past, man! I am he as you are he as you are me!" America declares, eyes bright and dilated, and goes from hugging the floor to slumping onto England's legs. He whispers nearly inaudibly, "Everyone's supposed to love each other now."
England's heart really does skip a beat, and he finds himself petting America's filthy hair without thinking about it. "It's not that easy, idiot," he tells him.
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It's a very predatory silence, England thinks, and much to conspiring. "America?" he asks.
"You need to relax, man, like, forget about all this politics stuff." America is sliding up England's legs, tripping over himself until he and England are nose to nose, and America is half-kneeling in his lap.
"You'll regret this in a few hours," England tells him, not sure if he's speaking to himself or America, but America cuts him off with a fierce kiss and fiercer words.
"No, man, no!" He kisses England again, and again, quick and light. "That's the point, no regrets, no worries, lead by example and fuck the world if they can't keep up. Don't you see, England, we're the future! I'm the future."
"You're full of yourself," he snaps, ignoring the desperate tone of America's voice.
America groans, and rubs his head against England's cheek like a kitten would. England brushes his hair from his eyes, and leans down to kiss America's neck.
"Oh, yeah, like that," America mutters, worries forgotten.
England ignores him, ignores that America is humming another of his own songs in his ear, and the fact that the mud from America's trousers really is getting everywhere.
America moans over and over as England sucks at his neck, grinding his hips down in England's hand and against his groin, making him loose focus on kissing. America doesn't seem to mind.
His skin is cold to the touch everywhere but his prick, which is warm and deliciously hard against England's palm.
America's voice is getting higher as England continues his ministrations, and soon his biting off shouts and low, throaty cries, pressing his face into the crook of England's shoulder, and shaking, coming into England's palm.
"Mm," America sighs, and then, "Here."
England looks down at the item he's been handed, and flushes brightly. "Is this... strawberry flavoured?"
But America just snickers at him, and pulls off his disgusting trousers, getting down on all fours with his elbows propped up on the coffee table, and staring expectantly into England's eyes. "Let me take you down," he sings vaguely, and England snaps at him to shut the hell up.
"Your voice is horrible," he says insultingly, even as he spoons up behind America and begins coating his prick and fingers with the heavy-scented lubricant.
"Man, that's making me hungry," America declares, and England rolls his eyes. His fingers push into America's exposed entrance, and whatever America was planning on saying next is lost in a string of happy, contented moans.
England focuses on the task, on America's heavy breathing, on the smooth lines of his tanned backside.
He moans himself as he takes his prick in hand, positioning himself. America rocks backward at the first touch of skin on skin, and England takes that as all the invitation he needs before sheathing himself completely inside America.
His own breathing is erratic now, and America is thrusting back to meet him, stroking himself with one hand and keeping himself balanced with the other, and England is glad of that because he's lost completely, in the sounds and the sight, and the feeling of thrusting into America, feeling orgasm build deep in his stomach.
England flushes and he cries out, his vision swimming with white dots as he comes. America slumps across the table as his elbow gives out, his second orgasm taking him, and he shoots into his own hand, dripping come onto the carpet.
"This, this," America pants, "Wow."
England blinks, and thinks about it before agreeing, "Yes, very."
I know, I know, it's more metaphorically Woodstock than literally, but writer!anon saw this request and was ~inspired~. Hopefully did not fail epically? Recaptcha: Said Revolver, rofl.
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It's VERY FUCKIN' HOT!
black!anon loves this pairing...and this fick ofcourse *_*
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THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS AWESOME
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why did he have to become such a prude...
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Hoomygod yessss.
xD Srsly so hot and mmmm. <333
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Lol... "I love you ground." I remember telling a display of fake flowers that very same thing the first time I tried shrooms.
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