Blame it on the Alcohol [2/5]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 20:31:38 UTC
America half carries, half walks England back into his house and up to his room. “You shouldn’t drink so much, old man.” He teases, dropping him onto the bed with a grunt. He pulls the covers around the elder’s body.
The alcohol is wearing off, just enough to bring some coherency into England’s brain. “Whassat, you git?” He gets up and grabs America’s arm, gripping it tightly.
“Ow! Hey, lemme go. That hurts.” America pouts, his plump lips looking so delectable in the soft light of his room. England stares at him, not letting go. America tugs at his arm, trying to loosen the iron grip. “Let go, England.”
England kisses him, tasting the liquor on both of their tongues, taking a hold of America’s head and crushing their lips together.
America makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and pulls away. “What are you doing?” he gasps for breath, struggling against the grip
( ... )
Blame it on the Alcohol [3/5]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 20:37:35 UTC
America hisses in pain, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as the fingers begin to scissor inside of him, stretching and loosening his body. Another finger is added, stretching him even farther until he’s sure he’s going to break
( ... )
Blame it on the Alcohol [4/5]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 20:43:07 UTC
Someone is slamming his head against the ground. They’re taking rocks and pounding them into his skull, with hammers and bullets and oh god it hurts…
England struggles out of bed and over to the bathroom, managing to make it to the toilet before he vomits up the contents of last night’s dinner.
Faintly, he hears someone chanting something over and over…
Stop, stop, stop.
He looks down and sees the now dried white, still on his stomach.
England, don’t-
His knuckles are white from gripping the edges of the toilet bowl.
England!
He vomits into the toilet again. What did he do? He vaguely remembers America, hands tied to the headboard, writhing and squirming under him, eyes confused and betrayed and
( ... )
Blame it on the Alcohol [5/5]
anonymous
March 7 2010, 20:49:52 UTC
The next day, hangover gone and rational thought fully returned, England goes to visit America. He stands on the door step for a long time, staring at the bell as if it were the only thing in the world
( ... )
OP-anon here~!
anonymous
March 8 2010, 04:53:10 UTC
OH MY LORD. I love you, dear Author!Anon. You may have my wonderful wifey. And my screwed up children. And my cute dog. And my evil cat. And my hawt porn. Which my wifey does not know of. So shhh. ;3; This OP is very, very happy you filled this, midear Author!anon, and she wishes that you would keep writing smut for the kink_meme, because you are DAMN good at it. <3 This just made my night. If my wifey were home right now, she'd be getting molested. *3* Just have to wait then, won't she, da? ^3^ But you, anon. You can take me. Right here. Right now. Just because of this fill. I will worship your body forever. *3* ...fff. Thank you for filling. <3
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The alcohol is wearing off, just enough to bring some coherency into England’s brain. “Whassat, you git?” He gets up and grabs America’s arm, gripping it tightly.
“Ow! Hey, lemme go. That hurts.” America pouts, his plump lips looking so delectable in the soft light of his room. England stares at him, not letting go. America tugs at his arm, trying to loosen the iron grip. “Let go, England.”
England kisses him, tasting the liquor on both of their tongues, taking a hold of America’s head and crushing their lips together.
America makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and pulls away. “What are you doing?” he gasps for breath, struggling against the grip ( ... )
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England struggles out of bed and over to the bathroom, managing to make it to the toilet before he vomits up the contents of last night’s dinner.
Faintly, he hears someone chanting something over and over…
Stop, stop, stop.
He looks down and sees the now dried white, still on his stomach.
England, don’t-
His knuckles are white from gripping the edges of the toilet bowl.
England!
He vomits into the toilet again. What did he do? He vaguely remembers America, hands tied to the headboard, writhing and squirming under him, eyes confused and betrayed and ( ... )
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The end made me really sad, but oddly in a good way. It all seemed well done. Have an internet cookie!
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-noms on cookie-
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(It's the last paragraph, you see. You used it in something else, I remember. ^^ That was a good fill too.)
Oh this fill is dirty and I'm going to HELL, but I loved it. xD <3
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dammit.
On another note, thank you! ^^
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I love you, dear Author!Anon.
You may have my wonderful wifey. And my screwed up children. And my cute dog. And my evil cat. And my hawt porn. Which my wifey does not know of. So shhh.
;3;
This OP is very, very happy you filled this, midear Author!anon, and she wishes that you would keep writing smut for the kink_meme, because you are DAMN good at it. <3
This just made my night. If my wifey were home right now, she'd be getting molested. *3*
Just have to wait then, won't she, da? ^3^
But you, anon. You can take me. Right here. Right now. Just because of this fill. I will worship your body forever. *3*
...fff. Thank you for filling. <3
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But very realistic, IC, and even like this, those two are still so adorable. :) I feel a little bad for both of them though.
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