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Well, all things considered, today could have been going worse.
Captain Canine - AKA Ludwig - AKA that guy who works on the tenth floor, in cubicle seventeen (no, not that one - the one next to the coffee machine and - nooo, the busted coffee machine - Jesus, do you even listen to directions?). Ordinary telemarketer by day, but by night....
Well, he would have liked to finish that as "but by night, protector of sweet justice, a misunderstood hero with complicated goals and motives that were only in the highest interests of the common people," but, well.
Let's just say it's rather hard to try and defend oneself as such a noble entity when one is currently strapped to a chair (crudely, with some frayed rope and knots that would make a Cub Scout cringe) and having a flashlight shown in his face full blast by someone at least a half an inch taller than him.
Which was, he reflected dully as he tried to shut his eyes against the light, a rather large feat.
The standing man smiled, face the epitome of smug glee. With a small, evil giggle (how these people were able to do it was beyond Ludwig, but it wasn't as if he actually wanted to know), he started in what seemed to be a long-planned monologue.
"Kolkolkolkol! Da, da, finally, it is I, the great Captain Club-"
"...And your sidekick Caveman...."
"Da, and my sidekick Ca-- Caveman! Where did you come from? I thought-"
"I've been standing next to Captain Canine the enti-"
A long-planned monologue that seemed to have been thwarted by, of all things, his meek looking sidekick with the funny cowlick and glasses.
Now, had Ludwig been untied and in a better mood, he would have been able to knock that kid back with maybe one, two punches. Something like that. Wouldn't have taken much, that much he was sure of.
However, they had just had to know his only weakness (okay, this and those high pitched, terrible noises that started and just didn't stop for hours on end, even after he knew the whistle had long since ended - and on that note, fireworks) - the dreaded rope (or chain!)! Such a thing was only second to fences on how well it contained the average dog with no place to dig.
Sure, Captain Canine might have been, in all respects human and therefore possessed opposable thumbs and a mind that let him see that he could probably tear through his bonds like another, more green superhero he knew - but he was saving that trump card for later. It was best to save appearances and all.
And besides, there were worse situations he could think of than being caught by the "dastardly" Captain Club and Caveman - the equivalent of Pantheon City's Captain Planet villains. Every city had one - the "villain" with the terribly focused scope who existed solely to do some morally questionable activity with no real gain to themselves - such as pollute water for no reason, or destroy rainforests and not even use the trees for paper or put cows in the cleared land or anything.
They also usually had rather telling names. Case and point, Captain Club and Caveman tended to get massively drunk, take vacations to some region near the North Pole, club baby seals, take pictures, and brag about it to all their friends for the sole reason of pissing everyone off and getting PETA to throw tomato juice at them.
Sure, one could argue that it was an insult to his dignity to be caught by such two-bit villains, and he would agree. However, like his previous sentiments explained - there were things a far deal worse than being captured by weaklings like Captain Copied-His-Alliteration and his sidekick Neanderthal. Such as being captured by The Swashbuckler and being forced to listen to his absolutely atrocious poetry while eating his just-as-bad cooking and drinking actually edible tea. Oh, and being subjected to hours upon hours of torture as the villain cackled and actually did a pretty good job at being villainous - bragging enough to piss him off, but not so stupidly as to give anything he was doing away. Downright frustrating, that's what it was.
He'd choose these bumbling idiots over that affable villain any day of the week.
Captain Canine - AKA Ludwig - AKA that guy who works on the tenth floor, in cubicle seventeen (no, not that one - the one next to the coffee machine and - nooo, the busted coffee machine - Jesus, do you even listen to directions?). Ordinary telemarketer by day, but by night....
Well, he would have liked to finish that as "but by night, protector of sweet justice, a misunderstood hero with complicated goals and motives that were only in the highest interests of the common people," but, well.
Let's just say it's rather hard to try and defend oneself as such a noble entity when one is currently strapped to a chair (crudely, with some frayed rope and knots that would make a Cub Scout cringe) and having a flashlight shown in his face full blast by someone at least a half an inch taller than him.
Which was, he reflected dully as he tried to shut his eyes against the light, a rather large feat.
The standing man smiled, face the epitome of smug glee. With a small, evil giggle (how these people were able to do it was beyond Ludwig, but it wasn't as if he actually wanted to know), he started in what seemed to be a long-planned monologue.
"Kolkolkolkol! Da, da, finally, it is I, the great Captain Club-"
"...And your sidekick Caveman...."
"Da, and my sidekick Ca-- Caveman! Where did you come from? I thought-"
"I've been standing next to Captain Canine the enti-"
A long-planned monologue that seemed to have been thwarted by, of all things, his meek looking sidekick with the funny cowlick and glasses.
Now, had Ludwig been untied and in a better mood, he would have been able to knock that kid back with maybe one, two punches. Something like that. Wouldn't have taken much, that much he was sure of.
However, they had just had to know his only weakness (okay, this and those high pitched, terrible noises that started and just didn't stop for hours on end, even after he knew the whistle had long since ended - and on that note, fireworks) - the dreaded rope (or chain!)! Such a thing was only second to fences on how well it contained the average dog with no place to dig.
Sure, Captain Canine might have been, in all respects human and therefore possessed opposable thumbs and a mind that let him see that he could probably tear through his bonds like another, more green superhero he knew - but he was saving that trump card for later. It was best to save appearances and all.
And besides, there were worse situations he could think of than being caught by the "dastardly" Captain Club and Caveman - the equivalent of Pantheon City's Captain Planet villains. Every city had one - the "villain" with the terribly focused scope who existed solely to do some morally questionable activity with no real gain to themselves - such as pollute water for no reason, or destroy rainforests and not even use the trees for paper or put cows in the cleared land or anything.
They also usually had rather telling names. Case and point, Captain Club and Caveman tended to get massively drunk, take vacations to some region near the North Pole, club baby seals, take pictures, and brag about it to all their friends for the sole reason of pissing everyone off and getting PETA to throw tomato juice at them.
Sure, one could argue that it was an insult to his dignity to be caught by such two-bit villains, and he would agree. However, like his previous sentiments explained - there were things a far deal worse than being captured by weaklings like Captain Copied-His-Alliteration and his sidekick Neanderthal. Such as being captured by The Swashbuckler and being forced to listen to his absolutely atrocious poetry while eating his just-as-bad cooking and drinking actually edible tea. Oh, and being subjected to hours upon hours of torture as the villain cackled and actually did a pretty good job at being villainous - bragging enough to piss him off, but not so stupidly as to give anything he was doing away. Downright frustrating, that's what it was.
He'd choose these bumbling idiots over that affable villain any day of the week.
"And that's just it! I mean, s-sometimes I feel like you don't even care! I mean, I might as well not even be here sometimes, I guess. I mean, you don't even let me do the beating when we go up to the pole and stuff. I just hold the camera and make you look good!"
"Ah, Caveman - you can't be serious! I thought you liked that."
"No, of course I don't! And that's another thing, too! I hate my name, it's like, I'm not even important or anything! At least with "Captain" something you sound almost half-menacing or something. I'm just a "Caveman!" That's horrible - I'm not even that unkempt or tall - you're taller than me, and my hair is only slightly longer!"
"...Well, it was better than your idea...."
"Don't insult the name Fabio like that! I think it's very villainous, and it ensures that all the lady superheroes would be too busy swooning over me to hurt us or anything! They would even agree with our animal clubbing ways!"
"...Caveman."
"Yes, Captain Club?"
"You do know that there... ah, aren't any lady superheroes of which you speak."
"...Oh. Uhm... right. But that's not the point!"
...Though, if they didn't stop the smalltalk in about three seconds, Ludwig was going unleash his deadliest, non-dog-related power - the scary stare.
Probably wouldn't work with these types of people, but hey. He could always try and hope for the best - though, he reasoned it would be rather hard with the leader of the duo still pointing that God-forsaken flashlight in his face.
Maybe the best course of action was to just sit and wait. No use trying to talk to them when they were so involved in their own affairs, anyway. It would just complicate matters.
However, just as our hero had resolved to just sit back and wait for his opportunity to shout rather mean, short things at the pair when it was deemed situationally acceptable, he felt his belt vibrate excessively - meaning one of two things. One, he had just gotten a text message detailing that the boss wanted him at work three hours ago even though he wasn't scheduled for it, and he was now fired - or two, Gilbert had figured out his "friend's" (and he used that with the downright loosest meaning of the word) predicament, and was going to attempt to be useful for once.
He hoped to God it was the first one.
"Hey dudes, look, I like listening to whatever's going on here, I really do, but can we get to the point already? I'm dying over here, and these ropes are cuttin' into my skin real bad."
It came from a device on Ludwig's belt - a tiny little transmitter with little to no "tinny" problems with the sound. The accent was basically identical to Ludwig's own, but the speech pattern? Farther off than anything the hero had ever heard.
However, the villainous duo in front of him didn't seem to catch that, and seemed reasonably surprised.
"Captain Canine! You can... talk... with your mouth... closed?" Caveman tried to reason, vexed out of coherent, unchoppy sentences with actual flow.
"Well, duh! I mean, have you guys ever looked at a dog before? They can say everything without even opening their mouths." The machine on Ludwig's belt said sensibly.
"Nyet, I'm pretty sure that's not exactly same thing."
"Yeah, and dogs can bark, right? That's like talking for them. The other stuff is, uhm, body language."
"Da. And humans have body language too, so I don't think it's entirely a canine thing, Captain."
"Shows how much you losers know! God, have you ever even seen 'Up!'?"
"Oh yeah, I love that movie!" Caveman exclaimed, clapping his hands together and smiling, feeling good because he could finally see where this discussion was going.
"And the dogs in that movie didn't need to open their mouths to speak, right? Same principle. I mean, you saw more with their body language, and then they barked and stuff when they felt like it. Totally the same thing."
"Nyet nyet nyet - they had, those... ah, how you say... radio transmitter things. Not the same."
"Ah, Caveman - you can't be serious! I thought you liked that."
"No, of course I don't! And that's another thing, too! I hate my name, it's like, I'm not even important or anything! At least with "Captain" something you sound almost half-menacing or something. I'm just a "Caveman!" That's horrible - I'm not even that unkempt or tall - you're taller than me, and my hair is only slightly longer!"
"...Well, it was better than your idea...."
"Don't insult the name Fabio like that! I think it's very villainous, and it ensures that all the lady superheroes would be too busy swooning over me to hurt us or anything! They would even agree with our animal clubbing ways!"
"...Caveman."
"Yes, Captain Club?"
"You do know that there... ah, aren't any lady superheroes of which you speak."
"...Oh. Uhm... right. But that's not the point!"
...Though, if they didn't stop the smalltalk in about three seconds, Ludwig was going unleash his deadliest, non-dog-related power - the scary stare.
Probably wouldn't work with these types of people, but hey. He could always try and hope for the best - though, he reasoned it would be rather hard with the leader of the duo still pointing that God-forsaken flashlight in his face.
Maybe the best course of action was to just sit and wait. No use trying to talk to them when they were so involved in their own affairs, anyway. It would just complicate matters.
However, just as our hero had resolved to just sit back and wait for his opportunity to shout rather mean, short things at the pair when it was deemed situationally acceptable, he felt his belt vibrate excessively - meaning one of two things. One, he had just gotten a text message detailing that the boss wanted him at work three hours ago even though he wasn't scheduled for it, and he was now fired - or two, Gilbert had figured out his "friend's" (and he used that with the downright loosest meaning of the word) predicament, and was going to attempt to be useful for once.
He hoped to God it was the first one.
"Hey dudes, look, I like listening to whatever's going on here, I really do, but can we get to the point already? I'm dying over here, and these ropes are cuttin' into my skin real bad."
It came from a device on Ludwig's belt - a tiny little transmitter with little to no "tinny" problems with the sound. The accent was basically identical to Ludwig's own, but the speech pattern? Farther off than anything the hero had ever heard.
However, the villainous duo in front of him didn't seem to catch that, and seemed reasonably surprised.
"Captain Canine! You can... talk... with your mouth... closed?" Caveman tried to reason, vexed out of coherent, unchoppy sentences with actual flow.
"Well, duh! I mean, have you guys ever looked at a dog before? They can say everything without even opening their mouths." The machine on Ludwig's belt said sensibly.
"Nyet, I'm pretty sure that's not exactly same thing."
"Yeah, and dogs can bark, right? That's like talking for them. The other stuff is, uhm, body language."
"Da. And humans have body language too, so I don't think it's entirely a canine thing, Captain."
"Shows how much you losers know! God, have you ever even seen 'Up!'?"
"Oh yeah, I love that movie!" Caveman exclaimed, clapping his hands together and smiling, feeling good because he could finally see where this discussion was going.
"And the dogs in that movie didn't need to open their mouths to speak, right? Same principle. I mean, you saw more with their body language, and then they barked and stuff when they felt like it. Totally the same thing."
"Nyet nyet nyet - they had, those... ah, how you say... radio transmitter things. Not the same."
I am more than happy to warn anyone about anything I think will be uncomfortable, book burning really bothers me as well, so it seemed natural to include it, especially since it was the bible and all.
"Naaah, you're just not looking at it the right way. Totally the same. Besides, I'm human, so I don't have to use the transmitter. It just comes out due to my, uhm, superior genetic make-up."
"...I guess that makes sense." Caveman reasoned with a shrug,
"Da. I suppose...."
"Right! Now that we're all agreed on it, I have a very simple solution to all of our problems. Captain Club, you need to treat Caveman like a person and let him help with evil stuff. Caveman, realize that Fabio is a terrible name for anyone, super-something or not, and just drop it."
"...Da."
"Yeah, I guess...."
"Good. Now hug and make-up...."
The villain and his sidekick looked at each other warily, shrugged, and then hugged in a typical bromantic way with a lot of back slapping.
This ended up hurting Caveman quite a bit and the next three minutes were full of embarrassing apologies.
Ludwig waited patiently throughout this entire ordeal, and honestly hadn't moved a muscle since it started. He wasn't going to thank that stupid totally-was-a-sidekick-even-if-he-denied-it-venomously of his for this, but it was probably for the best if he just went along with it. Besides, it seemed to be working pretty well.
"All better, guys?" The transmitter said lazily, and one could almost see the smirk on Gilbert's face.
"Y-yeah. Sorry, Captain Club. I won't, uhm, bring this up again."
"Good."
"...y-yeah."
"This is awesome guys. Anyways, now that we're all friends, how about you let me go for today? I mean, I have other villains to be captured by, damsels to save, kittens to save from trees...."
"I thought dogs hated cats."
"Well, I only save them so I can chase 'em around the yard a few times."
"...That makes sense."
"Da." Said Captain Club, who was always at loath to be left out of his own conversations.
"Anyways, can I, uhm, rip these bonds off and go?"
"You can do that?"
"Uhm, yeah. I am the great Captain Canine."
"Erm... sure."
Ludwig cursed mentally - stupid Gilbert and his love of making him do things for no reason - but without further prompt he undid the knot holding his hands together with relative ease, stood up, and made toward the door.
"Ah, Captain Canine - same time next week, da?"
"Yeah, whatever." He replied, opening the door with a shrug.
"Wonderful. Caveman, we'll have to secure some extra pictures by then."
"Yeah! I think Wednesday would be a great day to do it."
"Da. How about it, Captain Canine?"
"...Yeah, sounds good to me."
"Now don't try and stop us or anything!" Captain Club said with a nasty look in his eyes.
"Yeah, or else we'll, uhm...."
"Club you instead of the defenseless, harmless, adorable baby seals."
"Yeah! Which you wouldn't like."
"Da, so don't follow us or anything!"
"Right." Muttered Ludwig as a response, slowly adding under his breath,
"Attention whores."
First time author!anon hopes that this is starting somewhat well. ;; I've been having a lot of fun with this prompt so far, if you can't tell.
Italy's going to turn up later, so don't fret. Juuust wanted to get some set-up before we jumped into Germany's exciting full-time job as a telemarketer. 8U
"...I guess that makes sense." Caveman reasoned with a shrug,
"Da. I suppose...."
"Right! Now that we're all agreed on it, I have a very simple solution to all of our problems. Captain Club, you need to treat Caveman like a person and let him help with evil stuff. Caveman, realize that Fabio is a terrible name for anyone, super-something or not, and just drop it."
"...Da."
"Yeah, I guess...."
"Good. Now hug and make-up...."
The villain and his sidekick looked at each other warily, shrugged, and then hugged in a typical bromantic way with a lot of back slapping.
This ended up hurting Caveman quite a bit and the next three minutes were full of embarrassing apologies.
Ludwig waited patiently throughout this entire ordeal, and honestly hadn't moved a muscle since it started. He wasn't going to thank that stupid totally-was-a-sidekick-even-if-he-denied-it-venomously of his for this, but it was probably for the best if he just went along with it. Besides, it seemed to be working pretty well.
"All better, guys?" The transmitter said lazily, and one could almost see the smirk on Gilbert's face.
"Y-yeah. Sorry, Captain Club. I won't, uhm, bring this up again."
"Good."
"...y-yeah."
"This is awesome guys. Anyways, now that we're all friends, how about you let me go for today? I mean, I have other villains to be captured by, damsels to save, kittens to save from trees...."
"I thought dogs hated cats."
"Well, I only save them so I can chase 'em around the yard a few times."
"...That makes sense."
"Da." Said Captain Club, who was always at loath to be left out of his own conversations.
"Anyways, can I, uhm, rip these bonds off and go?"
"You can do that?"
"Uhm, yeah. I am the great Captain Canine."
"Erm... sure."
Ludwig cursed mentally - stupid Gilbert and his love of making him do things for no reason - but without further prompt he undid the knot holding his hands together with relative ease, stood up, and made toward the door.
"Ah, Captain Canine - same time next week, da?"
"Yeah, whatever." He replied, opening the door with a shrug.
"Wonderful. Caveman, we'll have to secure some extra pictures by then."
"Yeah! I think Wednesday would be a great day to do it."
"Da. How about it, Captain Canine?"
"...Yeah, sounds good to me."
"Now don't try and stop us or anything!" Captain Club said with a nasty look in his eyes.
"Yeah, or else we'll, uhm...."
"Club you instead of the defenseless, harmless, adorable baby seals."
"Yeah! Which you wouldn't like."
"Da, so don't follow us or anything!"
"Right." Muttered Ludwig as a response, slowly adding under his breath,
"Attention whores."
First time author!anon hopes that this is starting somewhat well. ;; I've been having a lot of fun with this prompt so far, if you can't tell.
Italy's going to turn up later, so don't fret. Juuust wanted to get some set-up before we jumped into Germany's exciting full-time job as a telemarketer. 8U
The quite between them lasted far longer than England was comfortable with, but from the looks of it, America was just as uneasy, the failure to speak or even move very unusual for the younger nation. Finally England lifted his head up and crossed his legs casually.
"Well?"
America's smile looked awkward, like he was trying and failing to make light of this for his own peace of mind. "Yeah?"
"You didn't answer the question," England replied.
"I said it was kinky," America smirked.
"That's not what I asked you."
England sat up, noticing the smile on Ameica's mouth widning to ridiculous propotions, a clear signal that he really didn't know what to do or how to behave in the face of this uncertainty. Bashful? No... That wasn't in the boy the be ashamed. Nervous? A bit. A strong possibility, at least.
"I said..." England began again, slower, licked his lips and and cleared his throat. "How do you feel about letting me have complete control over you in bed?"
He watched America's eyes flick away from his before coming back to stare back into his own. "I... It's fine. I mean, I don't know."
"You don't know," England parroted flatly.
"Well I mean, it's-" America's hand came up to run through his hair, the unrully cowlick at the front stubornly standing back up in the wake of his fingers. His cheaks were starting to color under England's srcutiny. "It's kinda hot..."
"Kind of hot?" England prodded.
America swallowed and sighed. "Yeah, ok, it's really... Itis hot. Really fucking hot, actually."
It seemed America was full of surprises lately. England hadn't expected the lad to be so... turned on by the idea. But the way America's pupils had flared when he used the words "dominate" couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Excellent.
"'Scuse me?" America blinked.
England's own face flushed when he realized he spoke that lats thought aloud. He straightened his tie and brushed his jacket for lint befor bepassing the question and moving on to the issues at present.
"So you're fine with me topping?"
America blinked again then nodded carefully. "Yeah... yeah, it's no big deal."
"Because I know you usually prefer to take the lead in these matters-"
"No I don't," America frowned.
England faultered for a moment, head wiping around to stare agast at the younger man. "You what?"
America's eyes rolled, the frown falling into a half smile instead. "Everyone just assumes I like to top, but really?" His eyes twinkled with mischife, as he glanced sideways back to England. "I love the bottom. S'fun not having to do all the work for once. Plus the attention is all on me. I'm the center of that person's universe. Even if just for the night." He paused and tilted his head in thought. "Or day. Depends on the when we get it on, but, usually night. Yeah."
England would have dropped dead on the spot if he wasn't, well... him. America was most certainly full of surprises... Good lord...
"So we were going somewhere with this?" America piped up helpfully.
Short update is short. More larter, I promise!
"Well?"
America's smile looked awkward, like he was trying and failing to make light of this for his own peace of mind. "Yeah?"
"You didn't answer the question," England replied.
"I said it was kinky," America smirked.
"That's not what I asked you."
England sat up, noticing the smile on Ameica's mouth widning to ridiculous propotions, a clear signal that he really didn't know what to do or how to behave in the face of this uncertainty. Bashful? No... That wasn't in the boy the be ashamed. Nervous? A bit. A strong possibility, at least.
"I said..." England began again, slower, licked his lips and and cleared his throat. "How do you feel about letting me have complete control over you in bed?"
He watched America's eyes flick away from his before coming back to stare back into his own. "I... It's fine. I mean, I don't know."
"You don't know," England parroted flatly.
"Well I mean, it's-" America's hand came up to run through his hair, the unrully cowlick at the front stubornly standing back up in the wake of his fingers. His cheaks were starting to color under England's srcutiny. "It's kinda hot..."
"Kind of hot?" England prodded.
America swallowed and sighed. "Yeah, ok, it's really... Itis hot. Really fucking hot, actually."
It seemed America was full of surprises lately. England hadn't expected the lad to be so... turned on by the idea. But the way America's pupils had flared when he used the words "dominate" couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Excellent.
"'Scuse me?" America blinked.
England's own face flushed when he realized he spoke that lats thought aloud. He straightened his tie and brushed his jacket for lint befor bepassing the question and moving on to the issues at present.
"So you're fine with me topping?"
America blinked again then nodded carefully. "Yeah... yeah, it's no big deal."
"Because I know you usually prefer to take the lead in these matters-"
"No I don't," America frowned.
England faultered for a moment, head wiping around to stare agast at the younger man. "You what?"
America's eyes rolled, the frown falling into a half smile instead. "Everyone just assumes I like to top, but really?" His eyes twinkled with mischife, as he glanced sideways back to England. "I love the bottom. S'fun not having to do all the work for once. Plus the attention is all on me. I'm the center of that person's universe. Even if just for the night." He paused and tilted his head in thought. "Or day. Depends on the when we get it on, but, usually night. Yeah."
England would have dropped dead on the spot if he wasn't, well... him. America was most certainly full of surprises... Good lord...
"So we were going somewhere with this?" America piped up helpfully.
Short update is short. More larter, I promise!
WARNING-From now on(and actually before, too) this story will contain dub con, but no actual penetrative sex. Just eyebrow rubbing. But it IS dub con.
----
“Honestly, look at you men—thinking you’re so great because you’re taking advantage of someone helpless.” France and Spain turned their attention away from England to find Hungary with her hands on her hips. “You’re also essentially giving him a hand job. How did you expect him to react?” Before Spain could protest, Hungary marched over, yanked England out of his arms, and pushed him to a corner of the room, away from the prying eyes of the other nations. England stumbled and nearly fell as he was pulled; his legs felt like jelly from all the stimulation. The wall was a welcome surface to slump against as Japan—blushing and looking away—joined them, cornering England completely. Hungary immediately began to coddle him.
“He’s so adorable, isn’t he Kiku? He just looks so vulnerable and it makes me want to…” Hungary reached towards England’s brow, but he flinched away, fear present in his eyes.
“Perhaps we should not, Elizaveta. He…does not look like he is enjoying this…” Japan murmured to her. Hungary nodded vaguely, but did not break her gaze on England. The more Japan thought it over, however, the more he was tempted to agree with his comrade. “But perhaps just one touch wouldn’t hurt. I mean, it must be—in some ways—quite pleasurable for him.” A tiny smirk appeared on Hungary’s face at Japan’s words.
“You’re right, Kiku. What’s one, gentle touch, compared to how rough those guys were being?” She glanced sideways to the smaller man. England only continued to cower in the corner, repositioning his arms and legs constantly in an attempt to stay standing. They were a bit right, he supposed—these two would be gentler with him—but that didn’t excuse the fact that they could have gotten him out of this mess.
Kiku nodded at his friend. “Yes, I think I wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps we should…each take one side? You can stroke his right while I take his left?” Hungary nodded vigorously, reaching her hand forward in a mirror of Japan’s. When the two were just centimeters from England’s brow, they looked down at him.
England was slumped against the wall with his legs spread wide to alleviate his arousal while his hands were splayed out against the cool, conference room wall, wishing for something to grab hold of and steady himself. The blonde’s mouth was opened just so, enough for soft pants mixed with the tiniest of whimpers to escape his lungs. To both Hungary and Japan, he looked absolutely delicious.
“Okay.” Hungary swallowed, shooting one last glance at Japan. Both of them had a light blush dusting their cheeks. “One. Two. Three!” At Hungary’s count, both nations swept their thumbs across England’s wide, erogenous brows. They marveled at the silkiness of them, having expected to be met with short, course hair.
England’s reaction was immediate. The combination of Japan’s lighter, yet longer stroke and Hungary’s more firm, but shorter stroke overwhelmed him and his legs shook for a second, but then gave out completely. He fell forward, on to his knees, but managed to catch himself on the carpet with his hands. Though the other nations did not see, tiny tears began to gather at the corners of his green eyes.
----
“Honestly, look at you men—thinking you’re so great because you’re taking advantage of someone helpless.” France and Spain turned their attention away from England to find Hungary with her hands on her hips. “You’re also essentially giving him a hand job. How did you expect him to react?” Before Spain could protest, Hungary marched over, yanked England out of his arms, and pushed him to a corner of the room, away from the prying eyes of the other nations. England stumbled and nearly fell as he was pulled; his legs felt like jelly from all the stimulation. The wall was a welcome surface to slump against as Japan—blushing and looking away—joined them, cornering England completely. Hungary immediately began to coddle him.
“He’s so adorable, isn’t he Kiku? He just looks so vulnerable and it makes me want to…” Hungary reached towards England’s brow, but he flinched away, fear present in his eyes.
“Perhaps we should not, Elizaveta. He…does not look like he is enjoying this…” Japan murmured to her. Hungary nodded vaguely, but did not break her gaze on England. The more Japan thought it over, however, the more he was tempted to agree with his comrade. “But perhaps just one touch wouldn’t hurt. I mean, it must be—in some ways—quite pleasurable for him.” A tiny smirk appeared on Hungary’s face at Japan’s words.
“You’re right, Kiku. What’s one, gentle touch, compared to how rough those guys were being?” She glanced sideways to the smaller man. England only continued to cower in the corner, repositioning his arms and legs constantly in an attempt to stay standing. They were a bit right, he supposed—these two would be gentler with him—but that didn’t excuse the fact that they could have gotten him out of this mess.
Kiku nodded at his friend. “Yes, I think I wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps we should…each take one side? You can stroke his right while I take his left?” Hungary nodded vigorously, reaching her hand forward in a mirror of Japan’s. When the two were just centimeters from England’s brow, they looked down at him.
England was slumped against the wall with his legs spread wide to alleviate his arousal while his hands were splayed out against the cool, conference room wall, wishing for something to grab hold of and steady himself. The blonde’s mouth was opened just so, enough for soft pants mixed with the tiniest of whimpers to escape his lungs. To both Hungary and Japan, he looked absolutely delicious.
“Okay.” Hungary swallowed, shooting one last glance at Japan. Both of them had a light blush dusting their cheeks. “One. Two. Three!” At Hungary’s count, both nations swept their thumbs across England’s wide, erogenous brows. They marveled at the silkiness of them, having expected to be met with short, course hair.
England’s reaction was immediate. The combination of Japan’s lighter, yet longer stroke and Hungary’s more firm, but shorter stroke overwhelmed him and his legs shook for a second, but then gave out completely. He fell forward, on to his knees, but managed to catch himself on the carpet with his hands. Though the other nations did not see, tiny tears began to gather at the corners of his green eyes.
Whilst Japan and Hungary were preoccupied whispering to each other, a taller nation stomped over and pushed the two out of the way of England, still kneeling on the ground. Clutching the back of his suit, Denmark hauled England up and carried him back to the conference table.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” exclaimed Hungary, crossing her arms in displeasure.
“We’re tired of watching you coddle him. We have this one chance to do these things, and it’s not going to be taken up by you and your fetishes.” Denmark was quick to answer, glancing over his shoulder at the two while he shoved a boneless England down onto the table, stomach down. England was unsure if any of the nations had noticed his tears, but none acknowledged them as one made its way down his cheek and dripped onto the polished wood. Japan moved to speak against Denmark, but Hungary put an arm across his chest, restraining him.
“Let them do what they will, Kiku. At least we’ll get a show.” She mumbled, turning back to the group. Japan did not seem placated by this, but did not push the matter farther.
With England on the conference table, Denmark had reached up and begun to lightly stroke the smaller blonde’s brow, coaxing soft moans from his mouth. England was loosened up and unrestrained from all the stimulation, ignoring the snickers from the crowd when he began to rock against the table. Nothing mattered anymore: only release. Denmark continued stroking only one brow, but then braced his other hand against the table, pressed his long torso flush against England’s, and began rubbing his own hardened cock against England’s clothed bottom. The action elicited a groan and, reluctantly, England began to push back, causing the Dane to shudder and groan.
“We should get him like this more often, guys. He’ll really do anything when he’s this desparate.” Denmark said to no one in particular with a smile, pushing forward in a particularly hard thrust that caused England to slide farther up the table with a gasp and a whimper. Though he was now assaulted with pleasure on both ends, England still did not like the situation at all. His state of extreme arousal, however, did not allow him to think much past that fact; being bent over a table and molested had left him spread eagle and lying, relatively unresponsive, against the surface of the wood. His mouth hung open and his vocalization was limited to only pants, whimpers, and the occasional moan, all which came from his mouth as Denmark started stroking his brow harder, even ruffling the fine hairs that composed each.
Eventually—England couldn’t tell how long it had gone on—the Dane stood and lifted him alongside him, supporting England as he looked around to the other occupants of the room.
“Hey, I don’t want to be unfair—which one of you gentlemen would like a turn next?” asked Denmark to the crowd. Many of the nations—even those who had already taken a turn—gazed hungrily at England, who was barely standing himself, pants tented uncomfortably and teeth gnawing softly on his bottom lip. He wondered if, now that he was facing them, the other nations could see his distress.
----
So yeah, dub con. Hope this doest ruin it for anyone—I had planned it from the beginning.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” exclaimed Hungary, crossing her arms in displeasure.
“We’re tired of watching you coddle him. We have this one chance to do these things, and it’s not going to be taken up by you and your fetishes.” Denmark was quick to answer, glancing over his shoulder at the two while he shoved a boneless England down onto the table, stomach down. England was unsure if any of the nations had noticed his tears, but none acknowledged them as one made its way down his cheek and dripped onto the polished wood. Japan moved to speak against Denmark, but Hungary put an arm across his chest, restraining him.
“Let them do what they will, Kiku. At least we’ll get a show.” She mumbled, turning back to the group. Japan did not seem placated by this, but did not push the matter farther.
With England on the conference table, Denmark had reached up and begun to lightly stroke the smaller blonde’s brow, coaxing soft moans from his mouth. England was loosened up and unrestrained from all the stimulation, ignoring the snickers from the crowd when he began to rock against the table. Nothing mattered anymore: only release. Denmark continued stroking only one brow, but then braced his other hand against the table, pressed his long torso flush against England’s, and began rubbing his own hardened cock against England’s clothed bottom. The action elicited a groan and, reluctantly, England began to push back, causing the Dane to shudder and groan.
“We should get him like this more often, guys. He’ll really do anything when he’s this desparate.” Denmark said to no one in particular with a smile, pushing forward in a particularly hard thrust that caused England to slide farther up the table with a gasp and a whimper. Though he was now assaulted with pleasure on both ends, England still did not like the situation at all. His state of extreme arousal, however, did not allow him to think much past that fact; being bent over a table and molested had left him spread eagle and lying, relatively unresponsive, against the surface of the wood. His mouth hung open and his vocalization was limited to only pants, whimpers, and the occasional moan, all which came from his mouth as Denmark started stroking his brow harder, even ruffling the fine hairs that composed each.
Eventually—England couldn’t tell how long it had gone on—the Dane stood and lifted him alongside him, supporting England as he looked around to the other occupants of the room.
“Hey, I don’t want to be unfair—which one of you gentlemen would like a turn next?” asked Denmark to the crowd. Many of the nations—even those who had already taken a turn—gazed hungrily at England, who was barely standing himself, pants tented uncomfortably and teeth gnawing softly on his bottom lip. He wondered if, now that he was facing them, the other nations could see his distress.
----
So yeah, dub con. Hope this doest ruin it for anyone—I had planned it from the beginning.
:D
Oh, wow! First fill, first art! It's a good picture! ^^ I SHALL continue now, with a volcano built and history assessments on the Industrial Revolution trampled into the ground! (don't ask..)
ReCaptcha: taticate feel.... wtf?
Oh, wow! First fill, first art! It's a good picture! ^^ I SHALL continue now, with a volcano built and history assessments on the Industrial Revolution trampled into the ground! (don't ask..)
ReCaptcha: taticate feel.... wtf?
I'd love you forever if you threw in some SeaLat.
England looked up from prodding his food half-heartedly and licked his lips nervously as America stared up at him, head tilted slightly to the side.
“I need to talk to you…” England trailed off, looking away.
A smile grew on America’s face, and he shuffled forward in his seat to lean forwards against the table, head propped in hands. “About what?”
“You can’t love me,” England shook his head firmly and as America went to protest, held up his hand to silence him. “Not in that way.”
America stared at his feet. “I can’t help how I feel Arthur. I know you feel the same way, too.”
England’s eyes widened slightly, before they narrowed to slits. “No, Alfred, I don’t. I care about you, like a good brother should.”
America sulked, and made no effort to hide the fact. His arms folded across his chest, pouting, as he shot ‘evils’ at his caretaker across the table.
“Alfred, you’re at a table. Now sit up straight and behave,” England chided. “You’re not a child.”
America smirked, sitting up properly and wrinkling his nose. “Then don’t treat me like one.”
England shook his head in disbelief, picking up America’s empty plate and stacking it underneath his near-full one. He headed back to the kitchen and set them on the side, frowning as he turned around and saw America smiling at him, having followed him into the room.
“What?” England cleared his throat as he felt it grow tight with nerves.
America stepped closer to England and gingerly reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. England stared at it, horrified, and just as his colony’s fingers brushed his skin, he slapped them away harshly. His eyes burned furiously as he glared at America.
“And just what do you think you are doing?” England snapped.
America blushed and stepped closer again. “Kiss me again England, like you did last night.”
England skirted around him, but America blocked his path again quickly.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” America whined, his cheeks flushed and eyes flickering up and down England’s body.
“Because it’s immoral,” England lifted his chin defiantly and pushed him aside gently. America grabbed his arm, pulling him towards him. England felt his breath slip from him at the shear strength of the boy – no one was quite like his boy. He stared into America’s eyes, almost in a daze, before coming back to his senses as the teen pressed a kiss to his cheek.
England pushed against him, hissing at how wrong and lewd the act was, but other than that didn’t do a great deal to protest.
Whether or not America’s strength aided him, the teen basked in triumph at being able to kiss England again. His face smothered in sloppy, inexperienced kisses, England found himself leaning to kiss America back, reaching up to entangle his hands in his hair before using his experience and manoeuvrability to gain the upper hand, pulling his colony into his own arms.
“If you’re going to do this,” England frowned at the younger blonde. “At least do it properly, and put me in charge.”
American grinned enthusiastically and nibbled along England’s jaw line, sucking on the skin to bring out rosy love bites. England had to bite on his lip to keep himself from moaning at the blissfulness of it. For someone with little experience in the area, America was very good with his mouth. Seemed all the exercising it through talking non-stop paid off, after all.
Suddenly, America was shoved away, and stared at England as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and his face with his sleeve.
“No,” he said firmly after he’d finished rubbing away every last kiss America had set on him.
America glared back defiantly, but eventually gave in, lowering his gaze to the floor and shuffling away.
England felt his heart thudding against his ribcage, threatening to burst out. He couldn’t let the boy do this to him; ruin his reputation and make him an indecent fool. England was, after all, a genuine father-figure to him.
(Would OP prefer smut to follow? I am easy either way, so if you really want smut, feel free to request. My apologies if this is a fail update, Anon is just...failing at the moment tehe.)
“I need to talk to you…” England trailed off, looking away.
A smile grew on America’s face, and he shuffled forward in his seat to lean forwards against the table, head propped in hands. “About what?”
“You can’t love me,” England shook his head firmly and as America went to protest, held up his hand to silence him. “Not in that way.”
America stared at his feet. “I can’t help how I feel Arthur. I know you feel the same way, too.”
England’s eyes widened slightly, before they narrowed to slits. “No, Alfred, I don’t. I care about you, like a good brother should.”
America sulked, and made no effort to hide the fact. His arms folded across his chest, pouting, as he shot ‘evils’ at his caretaker across the table.
“Alfred, you’re at a table. Now sit up straight and behave,” England chided. “You’re not a child.”
America smirked, sitting up properly and wrinkling his nose. “Then don’t treat me like one.”
England shook his head in disbelief, picking up America’s empty plate and stacking it underneath his near-full one. He headed back to the kitchen and set them on the side, frowning as he turned around and saw America smiling at him, having followed him into the room.
“What?” England cleared his throat as he felt it grow tight with nerves.
America stepped closer to England and gingerly reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. England stared at it, horrified, and just as his colony’s fingers brushed his skin, he slapped them away harshly. His eyes burned furiously as he glared at America.
“And just what do you think you are doing?” England snapped.
America blushed and stepped closer again. “Kiss me again England, like you did last night.”
England skirted around him, but America blocked his path again quickly.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” America whined, his cheeks flushed and eyes flickering up and down England’s body.
“Because it’s immoral,” England lifted his chin defiantly and pushed him aside gently. America grabbed his arm, pulling him towards him. England felt his breath slip from him at the shear strength of the boy – no one was quite like his boy. He stared into America’s eyes, almost in a daze, before coming back to his senses as the teen pressed a kiss to his cheek.
England pushed against him, hissing at how wrong and lewd the act was, but other than that didn’t do a great deal to protest.
Whether or not America’s strength aided him, the teen basked in triumph at being able to kiss England again. His face smothered in sloppy, inexperienced kisses, England found himself leaning to kiss America back, reaching up to entangle his hands in his hair before using his experience and manoeuvrability to gain the upper hand, pulling his colony into his own arms.
“If you’re going to do this,” England frowned at the younger blonde. “At least do it properly, and put me in charge.”
American grinned enthusiastically and nibbled along England’s jaw line, sucking on the skin to bring out rosy love bites. England had to bite on his lip to keep himself from moaning at the blissfulness of it. For someone with little experience in the area, America was very good with his mouth. Seemed all the exercising it through talking non-stop paid off, after all.
Suddenly, America was shoved away, and stared at England as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and his face with his sleeve.
“No,” he said firmly after he’d finished rubbing away every last kiss America had set on him.
America glared back defiantly, but eventually gave in, lowering his gaze to the floor and shuffling away.
England felt his heart thudding against his ribcage, threatening to burst out. He couldn’t let the boy do this to him; ruin his reputation and make him an indecent fool. England was, after all, a genuine father-figure to him.
(Would OP prefer smut to follow? I am easy either way, so if you really want smut, feel free to request. My apologies if this is a fail update, Anon is just...failing at the moment tehe.)
This anon doesn't mind the dubcon- she actually really, really enjoys it- however, it'd be nice if some of the other nations at least felt bad about it afterwards. (Extra emphasis on the "afterwards") I imagine at least some of them would feel guilty when they realized how upset England was, right? Especially if he shys away from them and doesn't want to come to meetings anymore... (Has weirdly specific kinks. ^^;) Of course I'll love whatever you do with this story. I mean, dubcon without actual pentration? Holy hell, that's enough for me right there. ♥
Wellll no luck on a priest but I found a minister I think. But it won't be a legal marriage. DX When did you want the wedding to be? I was thinking a spring wedding.
Anyway *incoherent babble about how wonderful you are*. Romano is perfectly characterized and I'm fantastically glad you've updated. I'm also glad that the bull wasn't hurt since DX that would be terrible and I love the bull for getting so mad at Romano.
Anyway *incoherent babble about how wonderful you are*. Romano is perfectly characterized and I'm fantastically glad you've updated. I'm also glad that the bull wasn't hurt since DX that would be terrible and I love the bull for getting so mad at Romano.
Fill: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=54700345#t54700345
A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. ~Thomas Mann
Part One: Avoidance
It didn’t look intimidating. Fifteen inches wide, and inch and a half thick. Made of metal and plastic. He could easily break it with a few swift slams against the table’s edge. But to Francis, that laptop was the most intimidating thing he’d ever encountered in his life.
It wasn’t so much the laptop itself as it was what was displayed (or in this case not displayed) on the screen. That damn blank word document. It had been taunting him for over an hour. Every time he started writing, he changed his mind mid-sentence and deleted what he just typed.
He was a professional author with twenty novels under his belt for god’s sake; a writer’s block this bad shouldn’t be happening!
Francis groaned and kneaded the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Gilbert was not going to be pleased when he came for his weekly meeting tomorrow. Francis was supposed to have a twenty-page summary of his next novel idea all ready to go by the time the albino walked in the door.
Francis was still perplexed as to why Gilbert was even an editor in the first place. He didn’t particularly like books (or even reading). Perhaps the publishing house employed him for the sole purpose of annoying the more rebellious writers. Francis had already gone through over a dozen editors, been threatened with at least two sexual harassment lawsuits, and received one restraining order. It wasn’t his fault his natural sexiness led t o ill-fated office romance! But Gilbert certainly served his purpose; Francis had no inclination of ever perusing anything past an editor-author relationship with that annoying man.
He inhaled deeply and picked up the wineglass that had been sitting dangerously close to the edge of his desk. Merlot. Not a particularly fancy bottle, but certainly not cheap either, just enough plums and spice to suit his palate. He took a large swig and shook out the stiffness in his back.
Steampunk shouldn’t be that hard, he’d written it before. In fact, this novel was supposed to be a continuation of his last published one. The adventures of captain Arthur Kirkland and his crew on the HMS Excalibur. Not difficult. He just hadn’t been planning on the first novel to be such a hit. He had left some very large plot holes that would be tricky to fill.
It wasn’t even supposed to be published. He had written it as a joke to piss off his current editor at that time. It’s original title was The Man with Extraordinarily Large Eyebrows and he cobbled together the most generic and unoriginal plot he could think of. Unfortunately in an attempt to one up a book market dominated by sparkly vampires, generic steampunk adventure story was just what the publishing house was looking for. The renamed it, slapped some flashy cover art on it, and voila, instant New York Times Bestseller. Francis hated himself for even creating that monstrosity of a book. Especially when the movie production companies started calling.
So now he was saddled with a story he didn’t want to write because Kitayume Publishing wanted to milk the popularity for every penny it could get. Francis must find a way to make Captain Arthur defeat the villain and save the world while still trying to keep his author dignity in tact.
It was going to be a long night.
He only got fifteen pages and through two bottles of wine before the alcohol took its toll and Francis’ world went black.
----------
Authors Notes: I’m describing Francis’ book as generic, because it’s a Jules Verne-ish adventure story. Because that kind of work was some of the foundation for sci-fi novels we know today it’s considered concept and plot the building blocks for today’s novels, so doing something in that style seems very unoriginal. Don’t worry Francis will find a way to add his own flair later on~ :>
Part two will be up tomorrow if all goes well. &hearts Anon will try and make the subsequent parts a little longer than this one.
Anon would appreciate any feedback, don’t be afraid to let me know if I ever write the characters in a way that displeases you!
Part One: Avoidance
It didn’t look intimidating. Fifteen inches wide, and inch and a half thick. Made of metal and plastic. He could easily break it with a few swift slams against the table’s edge. But to Francis, that laptop was the most intimidating thing he’d ever encountered in his life.
It wasn’t so much the laptop itself as it was what was displayed (or in this case not displayed) on the screen. That damn blank word document. It had been taunting him for over an hour. Every time he started writing, he changed his mind mid-sentence and deleted what he just typed.
He was a professional author with twenty novels under his belt for god’s sake; a writer’s block this bad shouldn’t be happening!
Francis groaned and kneaded the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Gilbert was not going to be pleased when he came for his weekly meeting tomorrow. Francis was supposed to have a twenty-page summary of his next novel idea all ready to go by the time the albino walked in the door.
Francis was still perplexed as to why Gilbert was even an editor in the first place. He didn’t particularly like books (or even reading). Perhaps the publishing house employed him for the sole purpose of annoying the more rebellious writers. Francis had already gone through over a dozen editors, been threatened with at least two sexual harassment lawsuits, and received one restraining order. It wasn’t his fault his natural sexiness led t o ill-fated office romance! But Gilbert certainly served his purpose; Francis had no inclination of ever perusing anything past an editor-author relationship with that annoying man.
He inhaled deeply and picked up the wineglass that had been sitting dangerously close to the edge of his desk. Merlot. Not a particularly fancy bottle, but certainly not cheap either, just enough plums and spice to suit his palate. He took a large swig and shook out the stiffness in his back.
Steampunk shouldn’t be that hard, he’d written it before. In fact, this novel was supposed to be a continuation of his last published one. The adventures of captain Arthur Kirkland and his crew on the HMS Excalibur. Not difficult. He just hadn’t been planning on the first novel to be such a hit. He had left some very large plot holes that would be tricky to fill.
It wasn’t even supposed to be published. He had written it as a joke to piss off his current editor at that time. It’s original title was The Man with Extraordinarily Large Eyebrows and he cobbled together the most generic and unoriginal plot he could think of. Unfortunately in an attempt to one up a book market dominated by sparkly vampires, generic steampunk adventure story was just what the publishing house was looking for. The renamed it, slapped some flashy cover art on it, and voila, instant New York Times Bestseller. Francis hated himself for even creating that monstrosity of a book. Especially when the movie production companies started calling.
So now he was saddled with a story he didn’t want to write because Kitayume Publishing wanted to milk the popularity for every penny it could get. Francis must find a way to make Captain Arthur defeat the villain and save the world while still trying to keep his author dignity in tact.
It was going to be a long night.
He only got fifteen pages and through two bottles of wine before the alcohol took its toll and Francis’ world went black.
----------
Authors Notes: I’m describing Francis’ book as generic, because it’s a Jules Verne-ish adventure story. Because that kind of work was some of the foundation for sci-fi novels we know today it’s considered concept and plot the building blocks for today’s novels, so doing something in that style seems very unoriginal. Don’t worry Francis will find a way to add his own flair later on~ :>
Part two will be up tomorrow if all goes well. &hearts Anon will try and make the subsequent parts a little longer than this one.
Anon would appreciate any feedback, don’t be afraid to let me know if I ever write the characters in a way that displeases you!
Is it strange that when Russia showed up, I immediately thought of Chuck Norris? XD
France really should've seen that coming, though. I mean, come on, Napoleonic wars much? Chances are the kid who just snapped an innocent nation's wrist is gonna try to off the bastard who almost killed him.
Can't wait for more. 8D
France really should've seen that coming, though. I mean, come on, Napoleonic wars much? Chances are the kid who just snapped an innocent nation's wrist is gonna try to off the bastard who almost killed him.
Can't wait for more. 8D
Very very interesting!
Re: UK/US - England seduces colonial - not shota - america
(Anonymous) 2010-09-29 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)Very thirded, and seconding the seconding for Founding Fathers <3
YES. How rare it is to see a request about a character NOT being gayXD. Even in AUs, most authors go for Everyone Is Bi! So very seconded ^^
Author!Anon of "Disgusting" says:
This proves that this has got to be the greatest request ever. THREE FILLS. On ONE request. I don't think I've actually seen that happen yet.
This proves that this has got to be the greatest request ever. THREE FILLS. On ONE request. I don't think I've actually seen that happen yet.
THIRDED WITH THE EXPLOSIVE LOVE OF THESE THREE!
So, basically, those three behaving like us? Do wantXD
Seconding the example you gave! Because the football angle would be really interesting ^_~
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