An alternative fill 1/?
anonymous
September 14 2011, 23:33:23 UTC
Hai thar guiz. Another anon was writing an awesome fill for this but they seem to have sadly forgotten about it. I’m going to hell for writing this.It’s not that America enjoys pissing himself, because if he did that would be just a bit weird. Or so England always told him, when he was a teenager and still struggling with controlling his bladder
( ... )
An alternative fill 2/?
anonymous
September 14 2011, 23:34:11 UTC
.“I’m going to say this once, so listen up. I love you. I’m almost certain you hate me, but I supposed I might as well tell you. Think of it as an old man’s last shot before giving up on relationships entirely.”
That’s how England had confessed his feelings, after World War Two.
(He’s always been a hopeless romantic.)
America had laughed, leaned forward, kissed him. Ran a hand through England’s hair and told him he loved him back just as much. England seemed relieved, grateful, genuinely happy, and America had been, too.
It’s easy to fall in love when all your favourite humans are dead. Land of hope and glory for England. The land of the free and the home of the brave for America. And all that jazz.
Really, it was inevitable that America would eventually suggest, “We should have sex.”
England had spat out his tea. “What did you just-? You want to... to do that. With... with meAmerica shrugged. “Who else would I sleep with
( ... )
An alternative fill 3/?
anonymous
September 14 2011, 23:35:28 UTC
“Why?” England questions, yawning. He looks at America with a weak smile and clutches at the blankets. “You can tell me-”
And then he notices it, his fingertips landing against the spreading boundary of the large territory of moisture that’s seeping across the bed.
“Did you,” England asks, eyes widening, “w-wet the bed, America?”
America shrugs. “Kinda.”
“You fucking-!” England leaps out of bed instantly. He’s dressed in nothing other than his boxer shorts and America wants to jump him right then and there. “You’re an adult now! You’re a fucking superpower, damn you! How on Earth can you still be wetting the bed?”
He leaves the room, still ranting to himself.
America frowns. Note to self- think plans through next time.“Alright,” England says over breakfast. “Alright, I understand that you’ve been stressed lately, with Russia and the like, but last night was...” He grimaces. “Well, it was unexpected. You’ve not done that since you were a colony.”
(Since you were my colony, England actually wants to say
( ... )
An alternative fill 4/?
anonymous
September 16 2011, 00:10:30 UTC
As they sit in awkward silence once again over breakfast, England coughs and declares to break the hush, “I really think you should see a doctor.”
America rolls his eyes. (Your amateur dramatics are useless, England; I know the truth now so you can stop pretending.) He doesn’t voice his thoughts.
With a hand on his forehead, England lets out a sigh of exasperation. “After all, it’s rather improper for someone to simply lose total control over their... bodily functions.”
America smirks. (By your standards, it’s also improper for someone to get turned on by said bodily functions, but you’re not going to see a doctor about that, are you?) He considers voicing those thoughts, but he doesn’t. He says something entirely different.
“Sure, England. I’ll see a doctor that just happens to specialise in countries.”
Irritated, England throws a slice of toast at him, and America catches it flawlessly.England is wary of getting into bed that night, eyes darting around the room as he hovers in the doorway. He’s wearing pyjamas and a dressing
( ... )
An alternative fill 5/?
anonymous
September 16 2011, 00:12:29 UTC
Resting his head against the curve of England’s neck, America takes the time to listen out for the thump of England’s steady heartbeat and the consistent sigh of his breathing. Only at night does England ever fully relax, whispering snippets of poetry and murmuring choruses of songs as he descends into sleep with America by his side
( ... )
An alternative fill 6/?
anonymous
September 16 2011, 00:13:37 UTC
The next thing America knows is he’s been flipped onto his back and England’s lips are working ferociously at his throat, a hand kneading at his cock through his shorts until he can’t take it, the pressure of England’s attentions adding to the pressure already firm in his abdomen.
“Gotta pee,” America says like an ill-mannered child.
“Go on, then,” England smirks. “I want to see it.”
America sighs as he allows himself to urinate; it feels like relief embodied and it’s not too different to climaxing, fluid clinging to the material of his shorts and splashing against his legs. The stream is one born from a painfully full bladder and the stream feels endless, drenching even the mattress as America feels nothing more than sweet release. England keeps his hand to America’s groin the entire time, hand wet and fingers working tirelessly against the damp material that’s clinging to America’s cock
( ... )
An alternative fill 7/7
anonymous
September 16 2011, 00:16:18 UTC
England allows America to push forward, as much of his length entering England’s mouth as possible, intruding into his throat as it’s met with nothing but heat and the glorious feel of spit. (Liquid should not be as inviting as they are, and America merely accepts that perhaps he doesn’t have the right to judge England at all
( ... )
Re: An alternative fill 7/7
anonymous
September 16 2011, 00:49:04 UTC
Oh, other a!anon, this was a lovely, beautiful end to a lovely, beautiful fill. I most certainly accept your proposal. We can have beautiful sessions of mutual-masturbation over gay piss-filled porn. To put it in a less creepy way, I take my hat off to you. Don't stop writing <3
Re: An alternative fill 7/7
anonymous
September 16 2011, 02:09:51 UTC
Not usually my kink but hot damn, you've honestly helped me understand why people like this sort of thing. (Don't worry-- I mean this as a great compliment. Obviously if I were closed-minded about it I wouldn't be here.) Well done, A!A.
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That’s how England had confessed his feelings, after World War Two.
(He’s always been a hopeless romantic.)
America had laughed, leaned forward, kissed him. Ran a hand through England’s hair and told him he loved him back just as much. England seemed relieved, grateful, genuinely happy, and America had been, too.
It’s easy to fall in love when all your favourite humans are dead. Land of hope and glory for England. The land of the free and the home of the brave for America. And all that jazz.
Really, it was inevitable that America would eventually suggest, “We should have sex.”
England had spat out his tea. “What did you just-? You want to... to do that. With... with meAmerica shrugged. “Who else would I sleep with ( ... )
Reply
And then he notices it, his fingertips landing against the spreading boundary of the large territory of moisture that’s seeping across the bed.
“Did you,” England asks, eyes widening, “w-wet the bed, America?”
America shrugs. “Kinda.”
“You fucking-!” England leaps out of bed instantly. He’s dressed in nothing other than his boxer shorts and America wants to jump him right then and there. “You’re an adult now! You’re a fucking superpower, damn you! How on Earth can you still be wetting the bed?”
He leaves the room, still ranting to himself.
America frowns. Note to self- think plans through next time.“Alright,” England says over breakfast. “Alright, I understand that you’ve been stressed lately, with Russia and the like, but last night was...” He grimaces. “Well, it was unexpected. You’ve not done that since you were a colony.”
(Since you were my colony, England actually wants to say ( ... )
Reply
I'm the other (very, very, very slow) A!A and I just wanted you to know that you just inspired me to get off my ass and do an update.
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Reply
I like the small things, like America liking Thursdays and England tasting like mint when asleep.
Reply
America rolls his eyes. (Your amateur dramatics are useless, England; I know the truth now so you can stop pretending.) He doesn’t voice his thoughts.
With a hand on his forehead, England lets out a sigh of exasperation. “After all, it’s rather improper for someone to simply lose total control over their... bodily functions.”
America smirks. (By your standards, it’s also improper for someone to get turned on by said bodily functions, but you’re not going to see a doctor about that, are you?) He considers voicing those thoughts, but he doesn’t. He says something entirely different.
“Sure, England. I’ll see a doctor that just happens to specialise in countries.”
Irritated, England throws a slice of toast at him, and America catches it flawlessly.England is wary of getting into bed that night, eyes darting around the room as he hovers in the doorway. He’s wearing pyjamas and a dressing ( ... )
Reply
Reply
“Gotta pee,” America says like an ill-mannered child.
“Go on, then,” England smirks. “I want to see it.”
America sighs as he allows himself to urinate; it feels like relief embodied and it’s not too different to climaxing, fluid clinging to the material of his shorts and splashing against his legs. The stream is one born from a painfully full bladder and the stream feels endless, drenching even the mattress as America feels nothing more than sweet release. England keeps his hand to America’s groin the entire time, hand wet and fingers working tirelessly against the damp material that’s clinging to America’s cock ( ... )
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Reply
To put it in a less creepy way, I take my hat off to you. Don't stop writing <3
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