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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France drifted over to Russia’s side, a wicked smirk on his face. America could have killed him for this betrayal, if he could, but he decided to play along with this bizarre role-play for now, looking as meek as someone who was not born to meekness could be. While he could not recall anything useful about role-play, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, they would let him go without any trouble if he pretended well enough.
“Ah, this one…” France chuckled, soft and low, as he brushed a wayward strand of golden hair off America’s flushed face, then pulling one sleeve of the dress down so that it bared a shoulder.
“I noticed she had been acting quite impertinent lately, strutting about my home as if she owned the place. So I thought I would give her a lesson tonight and show her exactly where she stands in this world.”
He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, making a very proficient attempt at undressing America with half-lidded blue eyes. Russia’s half-mad smile grew even wider as he placed his empty glass on the table beside the bed.
America heaved a sigh, still trying to think positive, trying to not acknowledge the growing apprehension in the pit of his stomach. It was just so hard to concentrate through the slow burn in his legs and arms, and the fact that Russia and France, of all people, played eager witnesses to his humiliation…
“Monsieur, I will not do it again… Please forgive me,” he murmured, eyes downcast, hoping those words would do the trick. But no such luck.
“Oh, I will, I will, mon cher. After you have learned your lesson.” He leaned over to whisper something to Russia, who took off his jacket and gloves and then eased himself behind their plaything. Then America felt arms encircle him, the ever-present stench of alcohol on Russia’s breath filling his nostrils. He struggled at this invasion of personal space from his rival, but Russia held him fast, pressing America’s hips down onto his own with a firm hand.
“She is so full of energy even now,” Russia whispered, cool lips brushing against America’s ear.
Still smiling like the devil, France circled to the front of the bed and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. If he hadn’t been so distracted trying to not gag from Russia’s biting kisses on his throat, America might have been prepared for France’s next move. But he was not paying attention, and he yelped in surprise at the faint tickling sensation on his inner thigh. Breathing heavily, America glared at the other nation, who held a long pointed feather in his hand, probably plucked from the duster that accompanied the maid outfit. He tried to kick out when France parted his legs, but he had been immobile for too long, his muscles stiff and weak, and he could not resist when that feather stroked the skin of his thigh once again.
America heard himself whimper shamefully, and he was completely unable to stop trembling at the barrage of sensations that came from the feather brushing his thighs, the tongue at his ear and then his neck, the hands massaging his hips and legs.
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“Ahh, s-stop!” America gasped out when he felt cold hands underneath the skirts, encroaching upon his bare vital regions. Even though he was not doing the touching, France laughed when he heard the exclamation, and Russia giggled as well, sounding eerie and high-pitched beside America’s cheek.
“I was wondering when you were going to protest… I thought you would have started yelling by now.” France playfully ran a finger across the line of his victim’s jaw, down his neck, into the neckline of the dress. America glared back defiantly, but his confidence had begun to crumble under the combination of the demeaning outfit and the rope digging into his raw wrists, both of which effectively prevented any sort of dignified or heroic action - such as escape, for one.
He whimpered again as fingers began to stroke him underneath the petticoat, and he shifted in Russia’s lap, which only made the larger nation groan and pet him harder.
“France, m-make him stop,” America hissed desperately, hips spasming against his will from the pleasant shockwaves that Russia managed to incur with each motion.
Sighing dramatically, France reached under the skirts to still Russia’s hands.
“Do you think she likes it?” Russia asked, mischief tinting his boyish voice.
America shook his head ‘no’ as much as he could in present condition, but France disagreed, and in the bedroom, his opinion was law.
“She seems to be enjoying the lesson.” France shrugged languidly. “Perhaps a little too much.”
“Oh, we can not have that. A lesson should be painful, so that you will remember it.”
“Wha--? Painful?!” America thought, shocked at how rapidly this situation was declining. “They wouldn’t dare go through with it! Don’t they know who I am?! …Oh… oh, right…”
“It is for your own good, little bird, your own good…” Russia murmured ruthlessly while his frantic captive tried, uselessly, to avoid those invading hands. Laughing, Russia gave one last nip to a tan shoulder and backed away, leaving France to toy with the former colony once more.
“What do you want, France? Just let me go and we can talk this over like real men.” America tried to keep his voice steady, tried to sound in control despite his subordinate position. “Nothing good can come of this, right? If you let me go right now, I won’t even talk about it afterwards, I promise.”
“I do not believe you are in any position to be making demands, mon poupee,” France purred, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged it off.
Staring at the covers, focusing on the embroidered pattern instead of the lacy hem of this hated costume, America bit his lower lip as he tried to think. But he had to admit, he did not know how to play this game at all. He mentally asked forgiveness for cursing Canada’s existence, for if there was anyone who knew more about these two, it would be his brother… right?
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Finally exasperated with this facade, America protested, “I’m not a girl---“ But he did not get to finish that sentence when he felt the skirt barely covering his ass being lifted and two oiled fingers slipping in without any prelude. America jerked upward with a shocked cry, but Russia’s arm around his middle prevented him from moving away.
“I suggest you submit. You would not want Russia inside of you when he is angry, would you?” murmured the nation kneeling before him.
A little late for that, America thought hysterically, as he felt Russia slam deep into him, hard and brutal. He clenched his teeth, but could not fully silence the high-pitched noises of distress escaping his mouth with each thrust. The pain shooting through his already battered joints was now unbearable, and he thought his shoulders would surely be dislocated by the time Russia finished.
His head tilted to one side, France looked down at the former colony kneeling before him, almost sympathetically.
“France… aidez-moi…” America almost sobbed the words, his plea nearly drowned out by the sound of Russia panting harshly behind him, so much like a snowstorm approaching. “Si tu… m-m’aimez… Please!” The last word came through as a screech of agony.
“What is she saying, France? I can not understand her mewing.” Russia asked petulantly, grunting as he tried to push harder against those shivering thighs.
France shrugged again, as if he did not understand the pain-garbled syllables either. But changing his mind, he pressed up against America so that their mouths met in a violent kiss. Holding him steady against Russia’s punishing strength, France petted the other nation’s hair soothingly, humming softly into those bruised lips the old lullaby he used to sing to them so many years ago.
After what seemed like forever, Russia sat back on his heels with a contented exhalation, body slick with sweat. His violet eyes were dark and glazed with pleasure, a profound bone-thrilling sensation he had not felt in decades. In front of him knelt a shuddering wreck of that nation which must always haunt his nights and mock his days. But he felt gracious and extremely satisfied tonight, and he leaned over to whisper into America’s ear.
America stared back at him with wild sky-colored eyes, and he grinned slowly, deliberately, despite the obvious pain he was experiencing. “Well… I would really like a cheeseburger, thank you.”
Before Russia’s fist could connect with that insolent face, France grabbed his arm and made a tsking noise.
“I think our little kitten has learned her lesson, Russia.” And there was enough of something in his expression to stay the other’s hand.
“Of course… of course. We made a promise. Russia never breaks his promise.” Russia beamed down at America, all innocent smiles, and he gently adjusted the cap which had tilted forward. He kissed America on the forehead, said his farewell sincerely, most regretfully. With clothes in hand, Russia bowed like a bear in a gentleman’s guise and made his exit.
France smoothly got to his feet and poured out another glass of champagne. He caught America’s burning gaze, and he shook his head as he tried to get the taste of the younger nation’s blood out of his mouth.
“Why did you have to provoke him like that, America?” Now he spoke to America as his true self, not as a maidservant, and America silently thanked him for that. It was almost over…
America grunted as he tried to get into a more comfortable position. “I don’t know,” he muttered.
“You do not know why you do anything. You do not even care when you hurt yourself.” There was a reproachful edge to his otherwise concerned voice. “It is why we all hate you.” But France did not sound hateful, and his frown seemed almost sad.
All of America’s meaningful glances accomplished nothing because then the other country left the room, locking the door.
“Wait… Isn’t someone going to untie me?! Hey! HEY!!!”
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I really like your writing style as well. I think that you are very skilled.
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I would love to see the conclusion as well. Don't leave us hanging, kind anon!
lolrecaptcha: gates Butler
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DO it, Anon!
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Once more, they left him waiting in the bedroom, and he ran over their strange choice of words in his mind, trying to tease out the reason behind the events of this night, almost chancing up on the answer before it skittered away. Suddenly, the door opened again, and America looked up, his heart beating fast.
“Oh God… Canada…” he whispered, mortified, when he saw his brother shyly peer in. He had no idea why Canada was also wearing a French maid outfit, but it surely could not be for a very select costume party. Did something go horribly wrong in international relations and no one told him?
Canada slipped in to the room, stumbling slightly in his heels. He scurried over to the bed and began to tug at the knots on the rope. Watching those fingers skillfully undo the knots, it seemed to America as if he had done this before…
America fell back onto the mattress with a thud once the rope slipped off the post, and Canada crawled over him as he tried to work the blood back into his numb hands. His brother pressed hot shameless kisses onto his face and lips, onto blond eyelashes where tears of embarrassment threatened to fall.
“America, I’m here. Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right, I’m here,” Canada murmured sweetly, his voice dripping with false innocence. “It’s ok, England won’t know about this… You did very well, and I’ll take care of you now.”
As if to emphasize the last part, he reached down, fumbling underneath the skirt until his fingers found their target and started stroking and tugging fiendishly.
“Why?” America gasped, hands squeezing his Canada’s shoulders in astonishment, shocked to see how quickly he responded to his own brother’s touch… especially right after what just happened.
“Because I love you.” Canada sounded surprised, as if he could not believe that America didn’t already know that. Throwing his brother a look of adoration, he then moved down America’s writhing body and wrapped his lips around the half-hard erection, sucking at it enthusiastically.
America groaned, his body arcing upward as his hands clenched at the sheets.
“Stop it, I don’t want… you…”
Canada gave one last lick to America’s throbbing member before looking up, a pout crossing over his features, so that he reminded America too much of the other two.
“Are you sure?”
At this, America remained quiet, trying to decide between two equally disturbing options. So Canada made up his mind for him when he gathered up his skirts and eagerly lowered himself onto his brother’s vital regions.
Taken by surprise, America gave a strangled sob and could do nothing else except grab the back of Canada’s stockinged knees and try his hardest to not scream too loudly. One of Canada’s hands moved to place his hand elsewhere, nestled within the ruffles of the petticoat.
“Do you like this? Do I please you, huh?” Canada asked breathlessly as he continued to grind his hips against his brother, their skirts spread out on top of America’s prone form.
“Y-yes! Yes oh God, yes!”
Just like that, he came, harder than he could ever remember, dizzy and out of breath from the force of his climax. Canada rocked forward once more, his shoulders slumped from the exertion though his eyes still shone with delight.
“Excellent… Brilliant…” Canada whispered in admiration, between gasps for air. He made a little squeak of displeasure as he moved off of America’s still body and collapsed onto the bed. For a few moments, they lay like that, staring at the top of the canopy, willing their heartbeats and breaths back into normalcy.
Canada sighed happily and burrowed in closer so that America could feel sweat-dampened curls cool against his own shoulder.
“How did it feel?”
“How did what feel?” the other nation muttered, exhausted, aching, incredibly ashamed. It was very obvious how he felt, wasn’t it?
“How did it feel to be treated like someone other than yourself?”
America said nothing, but the furious silence told him plenty. Canada laughed until he cried, a sharp unpleasant sound grown bitter over the past two centuries.
“Well… you don’t have to answer that, dear brother. Because I already know.”
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ANON
BEST SICK ENDING EVER
Seriously, you're a fucking genius.
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Poor canada~ ;___;
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your writing is awesome.
especially the part about Russia sounding like an approaching snowstorm--niceee
"Do I please you, EH?"
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BUT MON DIEU.
<33333333333333333
I CAME BUCKETS.
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Oh man, that made me want to CRY RANDOMLY in the middle of this.
This was so wrongly hot - gave me that sinking-stomach feel, yet it was ...undeniably sexy. Awesome mix of emotions you've got me feeling. Kudos, writer!anon. Awesome stuff.
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