In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
axis powers
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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The slap was so sharp, it brought tears to his eyes and took his breath away.
"Your name is mine to decide... and I think, for now, it's best then if you don't have one..." Arthur said in a soft, yet unwavering tone. "For now... I guess it's fine if I call you pet..."
He wanted to cry just then. To scream and protest like he'd done the few first times. The dragon inside churned, twisted, thrashed and raged. The very fact that made it hurt so much, the circumstances - so humiliating - in which the shame had come, were the very reasons he couldn't say a word: how could he demand respect? How could he demand to at least keep his name, when he was wetting the other man's lap? And so... he could taste his own rage and shame, a bile savor in the back of his mouth... and he had to swallow it.
He could feel his name fading into oblivion. It gave him that odd, falling feeling people get when they're half-asleep, half awake... And then came the cold knowledge that he'd let it go, without even giving a fight for it. Suddenly, he felt like he deserved this... Deep inside, he knew he didn't, but still...
"Y... yes, sir... Pet.... pet is nice."
"Of course it is," Arthur said contently, smiling in silence for a while. "...do you like the fireworks, pet?"
"...y, yes, I do sir..."
"Well, then..." he gave him a light pat, "why don't you go and get a better look by the window?"
He made as if to get up, his instincts making him reach down to pull up his shorts, but Arthur caught his hands.
"...I never said you were putting these on, pet. We're going to watch the fireworks go off. Together."
He wouldn't even let him have the colors for himself...
"Y... yes, sir."
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ZOMGWTFFFFFSOHAWWTT
I WANT TO BE GREEDY AND ASK FOR MOAR BUT >O< THIS IS SO INCREDIBLE. The characterization is brilliant--a wise, proud ancient soul trapped in a boy's body at the mercy of an empire that took him. OH GOD. *rolls*
Thank you SO MUCH.
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...or just hard. Very hard. He's taking all of his frustrations and bitterness out on HK? What a terrible sexy daddy!
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And he's going to make a little dragon stand on his toes while he humps him to the window.
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Arthur's hands were on his shoulders, holding him, restraining him as the larger man pushed himself in.
It burned, good heavens, it burned in a way he could see, smell, and taste. He could savor the strain of his legs, metallic and thick on his throat, just as he could taste the pain, acutely, at the tip of his lolled out tongue.
And he couldn't even say that it hurt. No. He had very few things that he could cling to, to stay in his right mind, and one of them was his pride, slippery as it was. He could cry, he could squeal, but he would never say it. He just hissed and sobbed out, "It... it's too big..."
He could feel Arthur's smile. He made it sweet, even though his eyes were dark and hungry. (Was he really convinced of his own gentleness? He had to wonder.) He took a moment to breath before talking: "It is, pet... it is... but really, it's all your fault," said Arthur, softly... rearing his hips back...
No, please no, no, no...
The hips rammed forward, making him see fireworks behind his eyelids. He never thought he could hate the sight of fireworks. He used to love them so much--
"You're just tight, because it's me..." Arthur said huskily, amidst pants. "You're tight for me... because..."
Back...
And forth--!
Small legs turned their knees inwards, and sock-clad feet, standing tip-toed, nearly slipped.
"...because you like it to feel this way. You need the discipline-- deep in your dirty, yellow body, you know you do... and you enjoy it coming from me. Right?" Arthur purred.
Hate, hurt, hate, hurt, hate hate hate hate...
(Pt.4 Coming up!)
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A thrust--
And screamed.
Fingers dug into his shoulders and Arthur gave a low, husky purr. "Don't forget..." he said, hissing out the words until they eventually became a whisper, "there's a party going on next door, pet... You don't want them to catch you in your shame, now, don't you? I know you want to cry, but... I've taught you better, haven't I?"
He sobbed. At moments like this it was almost impossible to silence the dragon, but he had to, because the beast inside wanted to speak words of a child. He couldn't stand the idea of being caught speaking so childishly, and yet... he so wanted to, he so wanted to:
'How can you speak like that?! You're hurting me! You're HURTING me! I don't like this! I am not dirty or shameful! Leave me be! Don't touch me!'
So many things hurt at the time. So many things. It wasn't just the pain from his bottom, throbbing, so full of the other man... No. If only it was that!
The venom hurt most when it hit his mind. Doubt, fear. Did he keep his words to himself because he was proud... or did he because Arthur was right? Sometimes, sometimes he was so convinced that it was contagious... Insidiously, he would make him wonder, doubt himself. Maybe this was what he deserved? Maybe, maybe--
He couldn't think about it. Another thrust made him sob and press his mouth against the glass, licking it in a way that he wished his body would stop making him want to lick. Oh, that was another thing... another thing... that drove him mad...
(part 5 coming up!)
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...Arthur made it feel clean. All his lessons, all his words-- the very way he acted was so unwavering and convinced... that he didn't know if it would have been better or worse if Arthur had been a filthy boor. Perhaps it would have been better than the authority the other man projected... an authority, a regal quality... that made his body want to obey.
And his body obeyed in thin, little drops of white milk, squirting down between his feet. He sobbed. He sobbed, and moaned, and wished with all his might that his body would not betray him! Why? Why did he have to feel hot all over for this? Why did he not struggle away when hands came down from his shoulders and began to fondle his chest through his clothes?
Why...? He kept asking, and with lusty, dazed eyes, he wondered if somehow he'd been poisoned by the venom that Arthur had brought to the dragons of the east... Was this how it felt like? He... he could almost imagine why it would be addictive. But he also knew it was killing him inside...
He could feel it. Killing him from that wet, squelchy spot, near the bottom of his belly. He was almost sure that's where the venom was: it craved for more, but goodness if it didn't make him feel like throwing up a bit.
Though he had a feeling the venom went higher up, that it was reaching his chest. He'd rather not believe it though, because the idea that he was being soiled so deeply made him really want to cry--
(part 6 coming up!)
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And in the daze, he found himself staring at his hand. The joints were white and the fingers curled, leaving wet, sweaty little prints on the window... and he wondered, while he moaned, while the poison made him feel something almost like pleasure... Were his hands always so small? He could almost remember... that they had once been bigger... that he had once been part of something bigger, better... ancient and pure...
He sobbed when he felt dirt-- (his dirt, his dirt, his dirt... he tried to remind himself. The other man was the one getting him dirty, not the other way around.) Dirt, hitting him, deep inside, and Arthur was groaning, kissing his nape, wetting it with his filthy saliva and making him feel his approval, whispering soft words of praise...
"Oh... that's it, pet..."
(oh, please heavens, no, don't listen, just don't listen!)
"This is what you deserve..."
(No...)
"Y... yes, yes it is," he sobbed out, and smacked his lips. The dirt was wet, warm and creamy... it slipped down and a few thrusts later it was threatening to drip out, except it always got pushed back inside, and his forsaken body was loving every crude little detail... All of him was surrendering, except his eyes. They focused on one thing, one anchor for his sanity...
And then Arthur thrust into his bottom so hard, pushing himself up in a claiming, firm shove, that his body rocked and his eyes rolled back. He could see the fireworks going on even past his closed eyelids, and behind them as well... but they wouldn't erase his thoughts, the image prevailed:
Were his hands always so small? Had they ever been large enough... to stop this from happening to him?
The hands slipped down from the window, just like the drool did from his tongue as his head slumped forward and came to rest on the windowsill. He heard a knock on the door...
(part 7/final coming up)
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Arthur took a second to answer. He was gathering his breath, the boy could tell, to feign composure as only he could. Damn it if he didn't admire that. "I'll be right over," he began, "my boy was tired of standing around, so I let him take a seat for a bit."
"Well, do hurry up, won't you? You're the guests of honor!"
Arthur smiled so that the gesture could be felt in his words. "In a second," he purred, leaning down to the boy's ear. "You hear that, pet? You're the guest of honor too. Seems like all our efforts to make you into a nice, proper boy have paid off... so... you better don't disappoint anyone."
The boy just panted, and tried to catch his breath... no easy feat when the larger man pulled out of him in a single, quick move, and left him to fall down on his knees and hide his face against the wall.
"So... make sure you clean yourself up, won't you? I know you are a wanton thing, but..." his hand gently stroked the boy's moist hair. "We don't want you wetting your pants, and have everyone else to find out how dirty you are," he whispered in kind tones, "that's just for me to know... because I'm the one making it better."
"Y, yes sir..."
"I'll go on ahead, then. Don't take long," said Arthur. He wasn't looking at the boy anymore, and neither was the boy looking at Arthur, but he could hear the shuffling sound of his pants coming up. "You're the guest of honor."
And while the word honor ran through his mind like a bullet, all he could think, as he knelt there, his sore bottom pressing onto the cold floor on a small puddle of sticky moisture... was the same thing, over and over...
Was he always so small... so weak? And... would he stay like that, forever? Or... would there come a day...
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Oh
MY
GOD
God I love stuff like this. Well done author, well done!
Also, poor HK, I get the feeling he's going to turn into the fandom whipping boy. >_>
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I love the little character insights. Insecure abusive daddy!UK is such a dark but appropriate idea. And you wrote it beautifully. :O
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you win it.
it is hot.
and sad! aughhh
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My brain is currently on a puddle somewhere in my apartment, trying to edge towards the fan in order to prevent overheating.
Currently operating on my cerebellum and medulla alone, but just so you know--this was totally, completely, and utterly awesome. AWESOME. MORE THAN AWESOME. IT WAS COSMIC.
-GRATEFUL!Anon
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