Sporking with Somebody?: Stockholm Chapter IV
Staff Member (Holding a large sign that says): “Today’s sporking is brought to you by a member of sos_sporkers… We’re still looking for the Overlord and I do hope we find him quickly, because if we can’t find him then we’ll probably have to start feeding her…”
~~~
SOS: *Looks around the Sporking Chamber; it’s completely sealed and the exit is locked* Well, guess I have no choice, then… *Sits down*
Chapter 4: Blow me Away:
SOS: Gladly. *Pulls out a bazooka from nowhere and blasts fic to oblivion*
I love you people for reviewing this horrible sadist girl's imagination~
SOS: You KNOW how wrong this is, and yet you’re still doing it? Talk about Sinning Thine Ass Off…
Thanks for reading and please enjoy.
SOS: *Crosses arms* Make me.
Warning: Rated M for pedophilia and other mature contents.
SOS: Um…no. Pedophilia isn’t MATURE. It’s just plain horrible and sickening. I’ll have to assume that M stands for “maul your eyes out”…
There is no penetration in here like there is in the first chapter,
SOS: Thank god for small mercies?
merely a very in detail blow job.
SOS: Merely? MERELY? Just because there’s no physical penetration doesn’t make this any better! Oral sex is still a form of sex, and it’s just as wrong to engage in it as a child! What the hell is WRONG with you?
But still, smutty goodness~ (badness?)
SOS: Definitely badness. Or even horribleness. Even excluding the sheer wrongness of the content, it’s still just as badly-written as the previous chapters.
I realized my writing style has changed from the first chapter.
SOS: It has? I haven’t noticed any changes. It’s still just as grammatically incorrect, filled with misspellings, glorifies pedophilia, misrepresents Stockholm Syndrome, revels in abuse…you get the idea.
I've been giving Arthur more lines than making Al repeat them...
SOS: So, you’re being redundant. That’s not so much a change in style as just-received-blunt-trauma-to-the-head syndrome.
I'm not sure why I'm doing this.
SOS: Because repetition makes for some GREAT padding, and you think quantity is equal to quality. People will be all impressed by how long your fic is, they won’t even notice its shittiness!
Let me know if this is no where as good as the first one, because then I'd like to fix it.
SOS: Every chapter of this fic is worse than the last, even though the very first chapter is one of the most horrible pieces of writing I have ever laid eyes on. This would almost count as talent, if it wasn’t making me want to claw my eyes out.
I hate writing something good, then disappointing people in the later chapters with my writing.
SOS: You…thought the first chapter was GOOD writing?
Excuse me. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…ahahaha…hah…wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. (No duh.)
SOS: Shut up with the condescension. People don’t require you to write a disclaimer because they honestly think you’re the original owner of the series. People require you to write one for your own legal protection, and as a way of promoting the original material (which is why you should include the name of the original writer/artist in the disclaimer).
I turned in my sleep as light blared through my closed eyes, clenching them shut in discomfort.
SOS: I have a feeling he’ll be doing a lot more clenching in this fic…
OH GOD, WHAT DID I JUST SAY?
My bed moved beneath me
SOS: (Bed) Screw this, I’m getting outta this fic!
so I shifted, blinking up at the figure on my bed.
SOS: (As self) Hello, Alfred. I’m here to put you out of your misery. *Sporks with extreme prejudice*
"Arthur?" He smiled, running his hand over my cheek.
SOS: This Suethor seem to think that you shouldn’t start a new paragraph until a new speaker starts talking. No, darling, as soon as a different character starts performing actions, a new paragraph should be started. Otherwise, especially in a scene with two people of the same gender, a lot of pronoun trouble would appear.
"I wanted to show you something."
SOS: (Arthur) *Presents horrible doodling* I drew a picture of you! Don’t you like it?
He pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist.
SOS: (Alfred) -and then squeezed the life out of me.
I looked at him curiously and leaned into the soft hand running through my hair.
SOS: (Hand) Must. Keep. Running. How can I get out of this fic?
"Do you remember that very special thing we did together during my last visit?"
SOS: What, smoking together?
If you’re going to do a time-skip between chapters, then it might be a good idea to give us an indication that we have, in fact, skipped forwards in time!
He spoke calmly
SOS: Mr. Spock you are not. Quit pretending and just go back to twirling your moustache. You know that’s what you want to do.
and I shook my head no, unable to recall anything special.
SOS: Either America has serious problems with memory loss or he’s even more oblivious than Bella Swan, because, see…
"Something special we did here." A hand reached lower, squeezing my backside, running a finger over the crease, pressing against that place.
SOS: Yeah, ENGLAND RAPED HIM THE LAST TIME. And he doesn’t fucking remember! HE DOESN’T FREAKING REMEMBER HAVING BEING FUCKED UP THE ASS, AND AGAINST HIS WILL. What the FUCK?
I’ll just distract myself by figuring out how England’s hand can reach lower, squeeze, run his finger along something, and press at the same time…
I squeaked, nodding with a furious blush.
SOS: I have a feeling the Suethor is going to handwave the rape this way. “Well, he BLUSHED, so that OBVIOUSLY means he’s TOTALLY in love with Arthur! Haven’t you READ any romance novels? That’s what ALWAYS happens! And you can’t be raped by someone you love!”
Gah, it hurt to type that…
I wasn't sure what had overcome me
SOS: It’s a Canon Character Clone. He’s been possessing you for some time now.
and why my face glowed such a color,
SOS: Okay, America may be young in this fic…but I’m pretty sure he would know what embarrassment felt like.
but I couldn't help myself.
SOS: (Alfred) I simply MUST have that last piece of chocolate!
He smiled sweetly, rubbing at that spot and I squirmed, wanting him to stop.
SOS: If the word ‘wiggle’ appear in any fashion in this fic, I’m leaving.
"You can't tell anyone about that Alfred. It was a special way for me to show you I love you."
SOS: I have a feeling the Suethor is trying to make this all horrifying and shocking, because she thinks it makes her look unique and mature…but really, this whole scene is so clichéd and any research she did is so obviously based off of other bad porn that this scene just…flops. It’s not particularly sickening (at least compared to other pedophilia porn), but it’s not particularly unintentionally hilarious…I’m just bored, to be honest.
And why is England concerned about what America would tell people when he seems to exclusively stay at home? Has he seen ANYONE outside of England since the start of this fic? And supposing that he did, indeed, meet others, then why didn’t England tell him to keep it a secret before doing it for the first time? He could have told any number of people in the intervening time.
"But then why can't I-" I was cut off by an especially firm rub and a stern look from Arthur.
SOS: …Suethor, do you even realize what you’re writing? England is poking America in the butt to express his displeasure! How the hell am I supposed to take this seriously? Are you intending this scene to be shocking or not?
"Yes sir." I chewed on my lip nervously,
SOS: *Flatly* That’s not America. And this isn’t England either. I just don’t get why you’d go to all the trouble of writing a pairing if you’re not even going to give a shit whether or not they are who they are. Or how you can claim to ship a pairing, but show time and again in your own writing that you like something completely different to how the actual pairing is. Point is, why make it fanfiction when you can make this an original fic and no one would notice?
hoping he wouldn't want to do that again.
SOS: And hope and pray is all he’s going to do. Because screw being proactive, this Suethor has a fetish for blushing Victorian brides.
He simply started smiling again,
SOS: (England) *Vacant smile* I’ve been lobotomized last week.
paying way too much attention to my butt.
SOS: Is there such thing as paying not enough attention to your butt? Or just the right amount of attention?
I could feel it start to go numb under the constant pressure.
SOS: You go numb when someone pokes you in the butthole? Somehow, I don’t buy that.
I gnawed on my bottom lip,
SOS: I wish you’d eat yourself already and put me out of my misery.
feeling butterflies in my stomach despite myself.
SOS: Butterflies in your stomach is different from terror and panic, you know. The former is what I feel when I upload a new sporking. The latter is the minimum amount of emotion that should be attached to a rape.
Arthur...he loved me.. he was showing his love for me...
SOS: How old is America here? Because I knew that people who loved you didn’t hurt you to show their love since…as early as I can remember.
and I couldn't help myself from glorifying the memory;
SOS: Oh yeah, that’s why you reacted to the memory with mortification and fear. Yeah, totally.
And Suethor, it’s a very, VERY bad idea to ever use the word ‘glorifying’ in relation to rape when you’re writing a story all about how a rape victim just LURVES his rapist so much.
not looking back on it with such hurt, but instead with a new light of love.
SOS: Oh god, I’ve seen Hallmark cards less cheesy than this.
And again, we’re IN AMERICA’S HEAD. We SAW how he reacted when England brought the topic up. You can’t just TELL us that he’s pleased with the rape! You have to actually SHOW it. And what you’re showing now definitely isn’t overwhelming joy on America’s part!
I nodded in understanding and he smiled at me lovingly, kissing my forehead gently.
SOS: Poor adverbs. All Suethors abuse you so.
"Would you like to try it again?"
SOS: Why even bother asking? It’s not like you’re going to take ‘no’ for an answer!
His voice was tight in a desperate attempt to keep us both calm.
SOS: Just what is England’s motive here? What’s the point of keeping his lust at bay when he’s never bothered with it now? What’s the point of manipulating America into consenting if he’s just going to rape him anyway?
…Wait, Suethor. You don’t believe this actually justifies England in having sex with America, right? You don’t think that just because he nods here, it makes the following scene not rape, right? Because America, no matter what age he is, acts and thinks like a CHILD here. He has no idea what the hell sex is actually supposed to be, nor any of the implications that come with it. He’s not making an informed decision, and anyone can see that England is still exploiting and taking advantage of him.
So, if you really think that justified England? Then FUCK YOU.
"We don't have to do it here," There was more pressure and I whimpered.
SOS: Oh yeah, you don’t have to, but you WILL. Suethor, rape can come in more varied forms than just penetrative sex, you know. And what England is doing right now IS STILL FUCKING RAPE. Just because he’s doing it with his fingers instead of his dick, doesn’t excuse this scene a single bit!
"There are other places, where it won't hurt so much."
SOS: And, uh, the most traumatic thing about rape isn’t the physical pain. It’s the EMOTIONAL scars.
*Holds head* I’d almost forgive this Suethor and attribute to just the way she writes the creepy little bastard England, but she just gets so gleeful writing this story, and I know for a fact that she’s trying to portray America slowly coming to love England…and that just presses all my buttons.
His tone was soothing and sweet, the same voice that lulled me into a countless amount of false securities and scarring facades,
SOS: Look, I don’t care what his voice sounds like. If someone is saying that to you and clearly getting prepared to rape you? You wouldn’t be describing him as ‘soothing and sweet’.
but still, I nodded; willing to do anything he wanted.
SOS: THAT. IS. NOT. HOW. SEMICOLONS. WORK!!!!!
And as I said above, that does NOT count as fucking consent either!
He smiled, pulling off my nightshirt. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, grabbing my chin gently, pressing his lips to mine.
SOS: …Is it just me or is the Suethor writing a freaking rape like a laundry list? Emotion? Can we have some emotion?
I remember them being soft, soft like someone who was drinking tea everyday, because I knew he was.
SOS: …THAT’s all you have to say? TEA is what you think about when you’re being raped?
…Dude, did this fic seriously just make TEA rape-y?
Ow, my brain hurts.
It was odd...but pleasant, so I just let him do it.
SOS: *Head desk, head desk, head desk* Just because you feel physical pleasure, doesn’t mean you automatically become reconciled with the rape. The physical pleasure is often the most traumatizing part of rape. *Face palm, face palm, face palm* I fucking hate this fic. I swear to god it’s taunting me. Every time I want to start calling rape, it’d jump out and shove a bullshit excuse in my face of how America TOTALLY wanted it.
He pulled back, telling me that was another way he could show me his affection...
SOS: By defeating the evil doppelgangers and reverting canon, so that you two can have actual Slap, Slap, Kiss banter?
Again, this too was a secret.
SOS: But the regular beatings apparently aren’t secrets, even though they are just as dangerous to England’s reputation or whatever.
He pulled me back into another kiss and my body laid lax against the sheets.
SOS: LIED. NOT LAID. And poor Lax! What did he ever do to you?
His tongue slipped along my bottom lip
SOS: Because the Suethor is too good for normal words like, ‘licked’.
and I gasped, giving him the opportunity to plunge his tongue into my mouth.
SOS: Which promptly choked America to death. The End.
OH GOD, HOW LONG IS THIS CHAPTER?
I struggled not to bite, fighting against my urge to make it stop, to push him away.
SOS: Seriously, Suethor, why do you like America? He was brash, naïve, loud, youthful, stupid in a charming way, boyish, enthusiastic…and none of these traits are carried over to this fanfic! So just what the hell did you like about him? And what did you like about England? He was gruff, tsundere, snarky, and the vague straight man to America…and that’s nothing like his portrayal here.
I’m beginning to think that she just slapped England and America’s name on two generic characters in the hopes that these names will draw more readers to her…creation.
I mentally kicked myself;
SOS: I literally kicked him. HOW STUPID CAN YOU GET?
how could I be so selfish?
SOS: Yeah, how could you? The way you ramble on and on and on and not sparing a single thought about the poor, poor Sporkers!
Arthur was showing me his love.
SOS: (America) -by hurting me and doing exactly what I don’t want. That’s what love means, right?
This was supposed to be my reward for being good, and I was ruining it.
SOS: Uh, it’s not a reward if you don’t like it…and he KNOWS you don’t like it. Sometimes my mom punished me on my birthday, and I certainly knew it wasn’t because that was a reward! There’s childishly naïve, and then there’s just…stupid.
I calmed myself,
SOS: Oh yeah, because calming yourself is that easy while you’re being raped.
letting him do what he wanted, licking and sucking, pushing against my smaller tongue, urging it to play.
SOS: I…how the hell do you…by my count, England had to move his tongue through at least 5 dimensions of space and 2 alternate universes there to convey that much information.
I tried, moving it against his softly. Apparently, I was doing it right, because
SOS: Canon snapped back and America and England, fully grown, are having awesome drunken sex which England will deeply regret come next morning?
he pulled me closer, but soon I was pushing against him for air.
SOS: Hullo, erotic asphyxiation.
God, I hate that cliché. “Oooh~ Look at how passionately we kiss! Sure, that means we have Twu Wuv, right?” The only kissing cliché I hate more than that one would be having your lips swollen and bruised by a kiss, which, by the way, is NOT sexy.
He let me go and I breathed deeply, sucking in as much air as I could,
SOS: As implied by ‘breathed deeply’! Just how much padding is there in this story, or is America just that redundant?
feeling like the cigarette was back in my mouth.
SOS: What, now he tastes like cigarettes? Didn’t you JUST say he tasted like tea? And why is England smoking here? America had to smoke because tobacco was one of his major industries, so did a whole bunch of English people randomly decide to go into the tobacco industry too?
He lifted me back up, putting me in his lap.
SOS: So…he laid you down just to kiss you for a bit, and then got you back to exactly where you were before? What the hell was the point of that?
His lips pressed against my neck and I bit my lip, that feeling creeping into my stomach again.
SOS: It’s indigestion.
I fought against it, struggling to keep still.
SOS: Or maybe it’s diarrhea?
He kissed my behind my ear and I giggled, that feeling in my tummy changing.
SOS: …Or maybe he’s just high. SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?
And that is SO not how you do mood whiplash, by the way.
I felt bubbly all of a sudden, and happy.
SOS: Yeah, he’s definitely high. Let this be your lesson, guys. NEVER mix cigarettes and tea.
He kissed there again and I squirmed and giggled, realising it was tickilish.
SOS: …America…doesn’t know what being tickled feels like? BULLSHIT.
I felt him smile against my skin, kissing and licking there. I continued to giggle and squirm,
SOS: *Stony faced* That gag wasn’t funny to begin with, Suethor. Stop dragging it out. It does NOT get better with age.
in a much better mood, loving the feeling as I twisted my hands in his hair.
SOS: Well, to all rapists and potential rapists out there, if you want a way to make your victim forget ALL about the rape? Just tickle them. Yoyo says it works.
He pulled away slowly, untangling my hands from his hair.
SOS: Speaking as someone with very long hair? OW.
Also, England has quite short hair. Like so:
Sure, I can see it getting messy, but it doesn’t look long enough to entangle your hand in to me.
I pouted at him
SOS: So are you a scared widdle abuse victim or a spoilt pouty pwincess?
and he merely laughed, knowing that the act was getting more mutual with every passing second.
SOS: *Stony silence*
I was right.
The Suethor WAS intending all of that to show that America is consenting. That he’s actively participating.
That England can’t be blamed.
Suethor, YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.
I finger ran across my bottom lip
SOS: AND YOU HAVE AWFUL GRAMMAR!
and I braced myself to be kissed again.
SOS: Yep, and now she’s trying to paint this as Alfred SEDUCING England. And knowing how ACTUAL child molesters in real life have used the same excuse? Yoyo, you’re edging dangerous close to NEIL territory here.
Instead I felt the finger push my lips apart, pressing on my tongue.
SOS: Ah, yes, the Disembodied Finger. It appears a lot in porn. Especially badly-written porn.
Saliva pooled there and I struggled to not pull away, wanting it out.
SOS: Saliva…pooled there? In my experience, if someone’s holding your mouth open, you’d drool!
And no, Suethor, just because he’s not running away, doesn’t mean he’s consenting. NO MEANS NO.
He pulled the now slick finger from my mouth, running it along my lips, making them moist and slippery.
SOS: Slippery? What kind of saliva do you HAVE, Suethor? Because they don’t make ANYTHING more slippery.
"Alfred, if we use this, it won't hurt.
SOS: …
…….
SALIVA ISN’T A LUBRICANT! EVEN I KNOW THAT!
AND IT WILL HURT EVEN IF YOU USE THE BEST LUBRICANT, BECAUSE AMERICA IS APPARENTLY 4 YEARS OLD IN THIS FIC!
ASA;SLDKFJA;KLSDHJGALSDFJ HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE
would you use this Alfie?"
SOS: Alfie?
That’s…an interesting crossover.
I felt my heart skip a beat.
SOS: You should have that checked out. Cardiac Arrhythmia is a serious condition.
He rarely called me Alfie,
SOS: By that, you meant he NEVER called you Alfie. At least, not in canon.
but it was one of my favorite nicknames he had for me, it always made me feel so special.
SOS: Well, you obviously have very poor taste in nicknames.
No, seriously, that sounds like something people call their dogs.
I nodded, unsure what he meant by 'using' it. I watched as he unzipped his pants, pulling out his manhood,
SOS: *Head desk* Yeah, that’s what a scared, sexually abused child would call a penis, sure. Harlequin romance purple prose is suitable for ALL occasions.
which was already half hard. I looked at it uncomfortably, feeling tears well in my eyes as I remembered how he had hurt me with it, penetrating me making me bleed and hurt all over.
SOS: This Suethor takes far too much joy in detailing these things. YES, WE KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. Repeating it unnecessarily like this only makes me think you’re getting off on this.
He smiled sweetly,
SOS: Again, I don’t care WHAT that smile looked like, America wouldn’t perceive it as ‘sweet’ in these circumstances! And even if he WAS legitimately smiling sweetly, what does it matter? Why the emphasis? It’s not like it’d justify the rape, no matter what you might think!
running his hand down my cheek. His hand made slow circles
SOS: Slow circles, now selling at 30% off.
before grabbing the back of my head, pushing me down toward his member.
SOS: Does America read porn in this verse? Where the hell does he know these euphemisms from? CHARACTER VOICES. Just because YOU call something a certain name, doesn’t mean it’d make sense for a character to do the same!
I tried to move away,
SOS: Weren’t you resisting from moving away because Oooooh~ England is doing it out of Wuv!?
but I was held firmly as it rubbed against my cheek. "Now, you did well not biting the cigarette,
SOS: …THIS was what that godawful, egregious smoking scene was leading up to? England was trying to teach America how to fellate him?
I’M A COMPLETE FUCKING VIRGIN AND I KNOW THAT’S NOT HOW BLOWJOBS WORK!
can I trust you to do the same now?"
SOS: Yeah, because there’s just SO much trust between rapists and their victims.
If America had any shred of his characterization left, he’d bite England’s dick off. It’d be too late for England to stop him by then anyway.
I looked up at him with wide eyes,
SOS: Yes, yes, America is an anime character and has eyes that take up half of his face. You don’t need to keep reminding us of that either.
finally connecting that he wanted to use my mouth for a reason that still escaped me at that age.
SOS: He knows harlequin porn terminology. He’s been raped before, and he knew England clearly enjoyed it. He gets physical pleasure from being fondled by England.
And yet he doesn’t know why on earth England might want to stick his dick in his mouth.
THERE ARE NO WORDS.
"Remember all those lollipops and treats I brought you? I want you to do the same thing now, like it's a lollipop."
SOS: You know, I was never patient enough to actually suck on a lollipop. I always just bite it until it broke into pieces and chewed those pieces.
That mental image is SO satisfying.
My mind flashed back to when I was a bit younger.
SOS: LOOK at how you act in this fic! If you were any younger, you’d turn into a sperm!
When Arthur had bought me a rather large lollipop ad I spent an entire day licking it. I remember how he stared at me, not knowing why, but too afraid to ask in case it made him angry. Though now...I was quite sure why.
SOS: So, basically, in this story, England vaguely adopted America because he thought a toddler would have really fantastic dick-sucking skillz?
And, by implication, the Suethor has just ruined one of my favorite moments in canon - the War of Independence.
The great thing about that segment was that, unlike the normal light-hearted skits of Hetalia, that was genuinely heart-wrenching and filled with conflict. You could sympathize with both parties, America AND England, and even though you knew that it was ultimately a good thing, when the most Epic Breakup Ever went down, you were still screaming no in your head. No one was just a black-and-white Complete Monster villain there. The countries were just like the people in them; they all had their reasons to do thing.
America still loved England, but he desire freedom, and it’s not hard to understand that desire. And while he is resolute to leave England, you can tell that he really didn’t want to have to fight England and that he understood why England is so pained by his decision. And England most certainly loved America, and it was a VERY powerful moment when he chose VOLUNTARILY to let America go. That really showed the depth of his love and caring for the young man he’d raised, and it developed his character, showing him come to terms with how children inevitably grow up.
But noooooo, we can’t have moral ambiguity and actual parental love! A distasteful story about pedophilic rape that completely ignores canon characterizations would be FAR more fun to read!
I nodded slowly, licking the head experimentally, unsure what to do.
SOS: You have teeth. Use them.
It tasted funny...like soap.
SOS: …
Granted, I’ve never…done what America is doing here, but I’m reasonably certain that PENISES TASTE NOTHING LIKE SOAP. Probably because they’re still made out of skin and flesh, and NO ONE tastes like soap, unless they have the worst showerhead in the world.
Like that soap Arthur always tried to get me to use during bath time.
SOS: Okay, just to refresh our memories, England now simultaneous tastes like tea, cigarettes, and soap.
WHAT THE HELL?
Ick. Bathes. Who wants to get clean just to get dirty again? And then soap would get in your eyes and mouth...and it tasted icky.
SOS: God, Suethor, TIME AND PLACE. There’s a place to write a child being all frumpy that their guardian/parent insists on bathing them, and in the middle of a rape is NOT THE RIGHT PLACE.
Unless…*Horrified* Unless you’re playing this scene for HUMOUR?
It should tell you something that that even occurred to me as a possibility.
That was the familiar taste I had in my mouth.
SOS: Wait, familiar? Do you eat soap often or what?
But, none the less, I licked again, my tongue pressing into the slit by accident. He moaned at this, so I guessed that it felt good, and did it again, lapping at it with more pressure each time. He groaned and moaned, muttering about how I was doing a good job.
SOS: Is it just me or is this REALLY laundry-list-y underneath all the disgust? It’s just ‘I did this, he did that, so I did this, and then he did that, etc, etc”. Once you get over how WRONG everything is, this has to be the most BORING sex scene I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Eager to please him, and show him I could love him too,
SOS: Wait, so if England fucking America up the ass was supposed to be a gesture of love, does that mean America is going to screw England now?
I ran my tongue over the underside, trailing a vain.
SOS: And how the fuck does he know to do that? IT’S HIS FIRST FUCKING TIME. HE LITERALLY DOESN’T KNOW WHAT AROUSAL FEELS LIKE! GAAAAAAAH!
Look, just because that’s how fellatio was described in your favorite porno or something, doesn’t mean it’s suitable to EVERY sex scene!
He groaned again and I was happy I could please him.
SOS: Just what the hell are you going for here? That America was scared to death of England and is going along with this because he’s too afraid or that he genuinely thinks this is right and has been thoroughly conditioned by England? Because you can’t just alternate between the two characterizations!
I thought for a long moment, absentmindedly licking.
SOS: *Head desk* And now he’s being distracted by something shiny.
If you don’t know how to write rape and abuse victims, dear Suethor, then maybe you shouldn’t!
This was like a lollipop...a very odd tasting lollipop...right?
SOS: NO. IT’S NOT. IT’S NOTHING LIKE A LOLLIPOP.
So I tested my theory, wrapping my small hands around it and sucked the head into my mouth.
SOS: (America) -and swallowed it whole.
He emitted a strange sound,
SOS: (America) -like an enraged cat.
so I figured it was good, sucking more, trying to fit a bit more into my mouth.
SOS: …Oh no. She’s not going to do that.
I took in another bit, feeling the tip hit the back of my throat.
SOS: …
*Slumps forward and buries her face in her hands* Why yes, she is. She’s going to make someone who’s giving a blowjob for the first time, a small child, no less, achieve DEEPTHROATING. And I have it on VERY good authority that this isn’t even POSSIBLE.
My mouth was still nowhere near big enough to take him in, and my attempt was futile, merely causing me to tear up.
SOS: You didn’t even freaking know what blowjobs WERE at the start of the fucking scene! What the hell are you doing? Just how many pornos have you watched?
He seemed to like it though, as he mumbled my name and gripped the bedsheets. I licked the slit again,
SOS: When did you ever take the dick out of your mouth? Or does the Suethor think that you can maneuver your tongue around to do that with a dick stuffed in your mouth?
knowing he liked that spot the best, and earned myself a load moan.
SOS: By god, is PROOFREADING too much exertion for you!?
I pulled back, lapping at that spot again,
SOS: …Yes, she does. She really believes that with the head of a cock at the back of your throat, you can still lick the slit.
THE STUPIDITY. IT BURNS.
being edged on by his soft words of encouragements and breathy moans.
SOS: *Snort* Even in as disgustingly OOC a portrayal as this, England still sounds like a natural bottom.
Oh, and it’s ‘EGGED on’, Suethor. Kind of like how I want to throw rotten eggs at your characters.
I nibbled on his length lightly,
SOS: …NIBBLE?
I’m not even male, and I think I may never uncross my legs again.
sucking and licking with an inexperienced mouth,
SOS: Oh, bullshit. You just deepthroated him. You have no right calling yourself inexperienced.
trying desperately to show Arthur I loved him as he had tried to do before.
SOS: Well, why not use a method that he understands? He told you he loved you by fingering your asshole, so go ahead and stick your fingers up his. I’m sure he’ll like the surprise.
I licked at the tip relentlessly, understanding that it brought him pleasure, and with some encouragements, I took it back into my mouth.
SOS: *Yawns* I’m pretty sure my maths textbook is more interesting than this. I swear, some graphs look like the shape of the most epic hats in the world.
Soon though, I felt my head being yanked back gently by my hair.
SOS: No, you can’t yank someone’s hair gently. You can maybe tug it gently, but when you’re yanking, it means AGONISING PAIN.
He told me to open my mouth, and, being a good little colony,
SOS: Suethor, just because you throw in a random geographical terminology in there every few chapters, doesn’t make this abomination a Hetalia fic. The terminology isn’t even canon-compliant, since countries refer to themselves and their fellows ‘PEOPLE’. Like how Japan was said to be ‘a rather strange person’.
I obeyed his orders. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, my eyes starting to squint from being pushed up by my cheeks.
SOS: …You don’t raise your cheeks just to open your mouth. You lower your jaw.
I’m more and more convinced that this Suethor is an alien.
He moved my hands back to his length, moving them so they rubbed over the now saliva slick area.
SOS: Oh what, America knows EXACTLY how to do blowjobs, but he can’t figure out handjobs?
It was mere inches from my face and looked up to watch as he grunted and moaned loudly.
SOS: …Did England’s penis just look up to watch him?
OH MY GOD, IT’S BECOMING SENTIENT! KILL IT!!! KILL IT WITH FIRE!!!!!
Soon, strings of white covered my face and spewed into my mouth.
SOS: S-strings? Somehow, I doubt that’s an accurate description.
I was displeased to find a lot of it had landed in my mouth,
SOS: Well, what did you expect? You DID had your mouth wide open and everything!
since it tasted awful,
SOS: Really? You’re not going to compare it to something completely random, like toothpaste? I mean, you’ve already desecrated tea, cigarettes, and soap, after all!
but before I could even think to spit it out, strong hands had my mouth closed tightly.
SOS: The most he could have done was put his hand over your open mouth, so bite it! Or, if it really did taste that awful, just vomit all over his hands. I promise you he’ll let go after that.
I was instructed to swallow, so I did, the fluid slipping down my throat.
SOS: …You have no idea what the word ‘slip’ mean, do you?
It landed in my stomach
SOS: You could FEEL that? How heavy was England’s sperm? What, was it made out of plutonium?
and my whole body protested to it, screaming at me to throw it up, NOW.
SOS: (Stirrup bone) Yeah! I have VERY strong opinions about what goes in your stomach, young man!
I didn't though. I held it down like I held down his cooking so many times before.
SOS: OH YEAH, BECAUSE THIS IS EXACTLY THE TIME AND PLACE TO DO A HORRIBLE COOKING GAG. If you want to write a “mature”, dark story about rape and what you think is the Stockholm Syndrome (which this totally isn’t, by the way), then write one! Don’t try to mix the light-hearted humour of Hetalia in! Don’t mix in Hetalia at all!
He smiled at me, running a hand through my now sticky hair.
SOS: Why is his hair sticky? Did the blowjob require so much exertion that he’s sweating? Or did England jizz in it? Because if enough semen landed in his hair to make it all sticky, then not much would have been left over for his mouth!
I wiped my face into my arm,
SOS: Into? Now all I can see if America burrowing into his own arm, like a parasitic worm…
the substance rubbing off onto it.
SOS: Oh, he doesn’t even know that SEMEN is, and yet he knows EXACTLY how to perform a blowjob, huh? He can even perfectly deepthroat people, huh?
BULLSHIT.
He lifted me up with ease,
SOS: The English are KNOWN for their strength and aggression! /nostalgiacritic
carrying me to the bathroom and drawing a bath.
SOS: If there’s a sappy bathtub Healing Sex scene filled with bubbles, I’m leaving.
I could help but grimace...more soap in my mouth.
SOS: No, seriously, what the hell? You don’t EAT soap when you’re washing yourself! Is it that hard to keep your mouth closed?
He spent the time telling me how good I did, how much he loved me, how I was such a good boy. I didn't quite understand him, confusion straining my face as he washed my hair.
SOS: Didn’t you SAY that you did the blowjob because you thought it’d make him happy? So why the fuck are you confused? YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!
Arthur never said such kind things to me,
SOS: BULL. FUCKING. SHIT. You described him encouraging you and telling you what a good job you did when you were blowing him! Not only did you have to rape Hetalia’s continuity, but you have to rape your own as well?
I must really have done a good job.
SOS: NO SHIT, SHERLOCK! *Tears out hair*
It made me proud, but I couldn't help but be sad that no one else could know.
SOS: When have you ever talked to anyone else to begin with!? It’s not like England is even letting you out of the house!!!
That this love would always have to be our little secret,
SOS: This…LOVE.
This fucking LOVE.
I…
I have no words anymore.
and I wasn't allowed to telll anyone the secrets we shared.
SOS: This fic is as redundant as it is disgusting. Did I mention it repeats itself a lot too?
So, I lulled back into a deep sleep, tired.
SOS: You lulled what back into a deep sleep? Do I even want to know?
I smiled in my sleep, so proud at how good I had done.
SOS: How WELL you have done! And don’t tell me freaking ENGLAND himself wouldn’t teach America proper grammar!
And wait, when did they relocate from the bathtub to bed? …And I thought the time-skips in Twilight were bad…
And no, darling, that’s not how a sleeping person thinks. They are not completely coherent and lucid (discounting some grammatical mistakes). If you were asleep, YOU’D BE ASLEEP! AS IN, PASSED OUT COLD!
See? Proof of my theory that the Suethor is an alien.
I had learned to smoke,
SOS: YES, WE KNOW. WE SAW IT LAST CHAPTER. JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO SHORT-TERM MEMORY, DOESN’T MEAN WE DON’T!
and I was going to be very good at it, so Arthur would notice and be proud of me too;
SOS: And I still don’t freaking get what was the point of getting America into cigarettes. I can buy some abusers (BUT NOT FUCKING ARTHUR, BECAUSE HE’S NOT A FUCKING ABUSER) getting their victims addicted to drugs, so that they’d be depended on them…but it’s goddamned CIGARETTES. They’re not exactly rare! All it seems is that England will be creating expenditure for himself, having to pay for America’s smoking habit now.
and I made Arthur happy. I didn't quite understand how having someone's mouth on that area could feel good, or even what that yucky white stuff I had to drink was,
SOS: AND IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE WHY YOU FREAKING WOULDN’T!!!
*Takes in several deep breaths* Okay, calm down, you’ve ranted on this before. It’s close to the end anyway…
but it made Arthur happy, and it didn't hurt me, and that was all that mattered.
SOS: Oh, it didn’t hurt you, huh? Deepthroating someone at what appears to be 3 years of age doesn’t hurt you, huh? And rape certainly doesn’t cause mental trauma, huh?
FUCK YOU, SUETHOR.
Reviews make me happy
SOS: Well, I know one thing I’m not going to be doing any time soon.
and my chapters come out faster and be less horribly written.~
SOS: Oh, bullshit. Faster I can believe, since it’s not like you’re putting effort into this story, but not even a divine miracle can make this fic less horrible.
Well, that’s it for me now.
~~~