hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

Francis bites his lip, chews it thoroughly and Alfred is pretty sure it’s unconscious, that he’ll be upset once he realizes what he’s doing.

Finally, he sighs, shakes his head, and for a split second Alfred feels his whole body turn to ice. “Well, I suppose… If you like, you can stop off at my apartment to get changed. It’s just a block over, though I doubt you’d remember it if you saw it. You were quite drunk.” He smiles wryly, and Alfred tries not to shudder at the memory. “It’ll require you to take the early shift, though, at nine on the dot. I’m not giving you a key to my place.” I don’t want you to steal anything else, Alfred hears in his words.

Nine on the dot. Kiku gets home at seven, but he usually likes to sleep for a bit before taking care of the kids… This is such a great opportunity, though, the opportunity for a normal job, and Kiku is always talking about that, always implying things Alfred already knows.

Slut. Whore. Disappointment.

He won’t protest to this, he wouldn’t, not when it’s so obvious he thinks those things. He must, he has to, because that’s all anyone thinks of Alfred. Why would Kiku be any different?

“Thank you,” Alfred breathes, feels hope fill his chest with light and warmth, the feeling of cuddling up by the fire with hot chocolate and marshmallows, his babies warm and happy and never hungry. Feels that hope make the bad thoughts go away, replace what is with what might be.

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Francis clears his throat, face flushed for an entirely different reason now, and pats Alfred on the back. His touch is soft, gentle, almost soothing.

“Francis?” Alfred asks, nibbling at his bottom lip, feeling uncharacteristically shy, flushed red and nervous. “I, uh, I mean, Mr. Bonnefoy… Sorry if this is rude, but… This is a fancy place. How much does it pay?”

Francis purses his lips, taps them with one manicured nail. “Well, we can discuss your wages once your shift is over, today. Tips, though… On a good night, you can get over a hundred dollars. And I think that a pretty young boy like you will have many good nights. Pretty good, non?”

A hundred dollars on a good night. That’s a fair bit of money, and he’ll be working most days a week, probably… That’s six hundred dollars a week, which is great. It’s wonderful. It’s not as much as he gets at the club, which can easily be two or three hundred dollars, and that’s on a regular night…

He won’t be able to be clean after all. He’ll keep dirtying himself until he’s buried in his own filth, until there will be nothing worth saving in his body, working at the club and doing what all those men want, pliant as a puppet, no free will left to say no.

“Alfred? Alfred, cheri, are you okay?”

I just thought… I really thought I wouldn’t have to do that anymore, but working here won’t be nearly enough to feed my babies, pay the rent, keep us all warm. “Haha, yeah, of course!”

If Francis notes the way his voice almost cracks, the desperate edge to his tone, he keeps it to himself. “…If you’re sure. Well, Alfred, shall I get you started working?”

I loved this, author anon! Thank you for taking an interest in my prompt, and you did a wonderful job. France's silent war with Scotland was actually one of the best things about the fillXD. As well as Canada's skillful dodging of the matter with FranceXD. Poor Al! His love knows no bounds, which is sadly literalXD. I loved England's crazed and terrifying reaction, and his ingestion of solide things in a glassXD

All in all, I laughed a lot and I loved what you did with this. Thank you! ^^

---

It’s late at night, the sky cloudy and gray-black. Once in a while, the clouds will spread, part, let a few stars peek out, glittering like crystals, like diamonds. Kiku doesn’t have work for another few hours, so Alfred has plenty of time for this, what he’s about to do.

Tonight is a good night for him, he was offered nearly four-fifty to indulge this man’s fantasies, to lie back and spread his legs with a smile. This nameless, faceless man he will never meet again is getting changed, getting it up while Alfred waits demurely by the bureau, hands clasped in his chest, the dress he’s been told to wear soft and silky against his skin.

The dress he’s been told to wear. Not a horrible thing to ask, for the price. It’s not like it’s an obscene article of clothing, just a silky white baby doll dress, short sleeved, falling down to his thighs. Little lace flowers and vines decorate the top and he runs his fingers along them, wonders how he’ll be able to get the nail polish off before he gets home.

It’s funny. When Alfred catches sight of himself in the mirror, he’s sure he should feel emasculated, furious that he’s being forced to dress as a woman. Instead, he feels almost… Innocent, like maybe his dirt doesn’t run as deep as he thinks. The dress is an innocent color, a lovely style that almost makes the lines of his jaw look rounder, his eyes look softer. Dressed like this, his youth is out in the open, put on display for everyone to see. It’s a pleasant feeling, the feelings of youth and softness, of innocence and beauty.

Then Alfred shifts position and is brought back out of his little daydream as the lacy thong scratches against his ass, as the man comes out of the rest room, nervous and sweaty and clearing his throat.

He’s reminded of reality as the man lifts the dress up, cups the front of the thong and fondles him through it, as the underwear slips to the floor but the dress stays on and he’s brought to the seedy motel bed, his legs spread far apart so he’s bare, fuel for this man’s lust.

The dress stays on, pushed up to his chest so his nipples can be rolled and pinched and sucked at, until he only needs to force half of his moans and this is for them, for your babies so they’ll have enough to eat repeats in his head like a mantra.

Then the man lifts his legs, spreads his ass cheeks and licks between them and this time the noise Alfred makes is entirely involuntary, loud and shocked and laced with just the slightest edge of fear. It’s strange, it’s gross, and Alfred tries to squirm and free himself but the man holds him tight, presses him firmly back against the bed as his tongue probes deeper and deeper, as Alfred’s muscles tremble, expand and contract at the strange sensation.

The repetition, the mantra, repeats feverishly through Alfred’s head as he grits his teeth and lies back, takes slow, deep breaths to calm himself. This will feed your children. This will feed your children.

This will feed your children, but if they saw you, they wouldn’t see a man trying hard to earn money to keep them safe and warm, they’d just see a whore.

_{I, uh, didn't need to warn for rimming and Alfred in a dress, did I? Er... Sorry if I was supposed to!

Sorry for the sporadic updates. Being overworked is no fun. ;_; I'll try to update more regularly.

Phew, this is getting long. I'm thinking more of the kids in the next part.

Comments, concrit?}

Are you really my Latvia OP too? Because that would just be crazy...

I'm glad you liked all those France/England bits. I'm reading this book about the history of Paris right now, written by an English guy... And I quote, "Over and above their rivalries and their ententes, for nearly a thousand years France and England have exercised upon each other a reciprocal attraction, almost a fascination." xDD

And yes, dear, I know how you feel about Europe and S&M xD. What do you think got us started on all this in the first place?

Moving right along...

Arthur, despite himself, found that his breath was coming faster. Francis was running his hands up and down the boy's spine, and Matthew was rubbing his shoulders-- he couldn't quite decide where he should be. A part of him wanted to leave.

Francis tangled a hand in Alfred's hair, yanking his head back just hard enough to hurt. The boy's chest was rising and falling faster than his own. Watching, he had a vivid sense memory-- Francis pulling his own head back, just so, leaning down to bite-- and indeed, he lowered his mouth to the boy's neck. He would bite gently at first, much gentler than one expected-- yes-- and then hard, suddenly, and your eyes would close, and you wouldn't be able to help a gasp-- and yes, there it was, that sound disturbingly similar to the one he'd heard so many times out of his own mouth. Francis looked up and met his eyes, mouth never leaving Alfred's neck-- there was heat there, that he hadn't shown to the boy, and Arthur nearly shivered.

“You might as well come sit,” said Francis, finally, pulling away. “You're a distraction, standing there like a stranded puppy.” Alfred didn't appear distracted, and neither did Francis, but Arthur didn't protest. Instead he came, slowly, to sit next to them. The couch was not large, and the farthest away he could get was about a foot-- but Francis was having none of it. He slipped an arm around him, and moved him closer, until he was cradled against his side. Then there was a hand in his hair, just enough tension to tilt his head back a fraction; he met Alfred's eyes, and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. There was confusion there, yes, and wariness, but also-- also want. And the lips were red, the eyes glazed, red lines from Francis' nails standing out starkly on his chest... if he were Catholic (how did Francis manage that?), he would be going to confession for the next century.

Then the boy was reaching out, arm unsteady-- Arthur jumped, when the hand ended on his cheek. Alfred's eyes were full of something like wonder. Then he was dragging fingernails down his face, and Arthur's world froze. His eyes closed to slits, his breath coming shallow and fast... “You like it,” said the boy. He couldn't quite seem to get over that.

“You said that already, Al,” said Matthew, reprovingly.

“Oh. Right,” said the boy vaguely, eyes closing again as Francis bit down on his collarbone.

Francis, looking up, shared a look with Matthew that Arthur chose not to try to interpret. When Matthew left his position behind Alfred and came to stand in front of him, Arthur was surprised, and not a bit concerned.

“Surely, you can't mean--” And the sweet boy, always so much more cooperative than his “brother," was crawling into his lap, running his hands down his chest, grinding delicately against his crotch. Arthur gaped. He didn't even try to fight when he began to unbutton his shirt.

(Not OP) This is really good so far, anon! ^_^

This reminds me of that one Humon comic.... Seconded!

That's hot.

So very hot.

I am loving every minute of this! Alfred is adorably broke and Ivan is adorably sketchy! This wins period :DDD

damn, you're fast xD

Ah, it's been a while.... I almost gave up hope of reading it... But never again, anon-san, I believe in you!

I pitch Utah and Colorado for states. Or Nevada, born right before the civil war ended. I love this story. is there any reason Texas is so angry at New Mexico for the toe thing? It seems he's being a bit parental.

I used y only genderbender nation and I have no regrets. Thanks to Op and Anon for the wonderful comments it's always interesting to play a little with women position and gender issue. And for this chapter I'm sorry for the pairing that is kind of a rarepairing but akes a lot of sense in context also for once, tasty notes at teh end. Enjoy.

Back when Cuba was catholic, before she learnt religion is the opium of the people, she thought that those bastards had a strange pact with God. For a long time she couldn’t find another explanation for their power. Spain, England, Netherlands, France had a halo of supremacy and shining success. For her – for all of them in those days- Europe had everything one could ever desire: money and power, jewels and white skin, women and weapons.

Now she knows that they paid with blood every centiliter of power they had. She learnt that power is volatile and money is useless if your people can’t eat every day. But she also learnt that while you have power over money and fire you also have power over souls and history. That why she can easily understands why America is practically a harem owner. While he’s the world superpower these girls will be throwing themselves at him. And she couldn’t even call them a bunch of filthy hijas de su madre because she’d been here too. In fact she was last time and that disgust her.

She would like to know if Alfred even likes this attention. Not the USA does he like the women that much or is only something related to power.
She look at her reflect in the mirror. Is small bathroom mirror, she can only she her face and a part or her shoulder. Not pretty. Can’t be pretty for many reasons the more evident is Doña Gloria that will tell everybody in the neighborhood she was wearing pretty dressed for a Spanish gentleman with all the unfortunate implications. And because it’s useless. Spain will come anyway and will kiss her pretty or not. Only to prove that she is still being his historical partner, his friend with benefit, su amiga y nunca su mujer, his friend and never her woman.

Make sense, she like it that way, nobody wants to belong to her former colonial warder. She look normal in her uniform, tall and strong. Ready for action. Well to a nice dinner she normally can’t afford, a nice discotheque frequented by tourists only and then action. Maybe she should wear jeans and a tank top.

She remembers Alfred for him she used to wear nice dressed. He was the last one because Russia didn’t care about those. With him she only had to be loyal an passionate which was very good or at least not too bad. Ivan was a good lover, she wouldn’t mind seeing him again. But it can’t be.
She wonders if USA’s girls keep wearing make up and dressed and pretty skirts for him doing so.

Maybe Colombia, playing the Spicy Latina act and because she’s a beautiful feminine girl that likes to dress up when she’s doing her savior her dollars giving and weapons selling Charming prince.

Panama…Panama? Is Alfred with Panama? God, she’s been alone for too long. Is he with Panama, and what about Taiwan? She sure wear dressed. Natalya also does a magnificent dress for a magnificent beauty but Cuba doubts she would ever return to America.

Israel wouldn’t, maybe one of the Arabs girls she can’t distinguish that are neither Algeria nor Libya.

And Mexico, she would never dress up to him and it was made her special. She wasn’t Alfred’s equal because she was more poor, more needy, more aggressive and demanding that other girls. In the other hand she was the only one that Alfred treated different. Not like and ally or a subordinate.

That was Mexico power being able to see Alfred. The real Alfred not the superpower but the country of freedom and frail bases and insecurities. Alfred treats her in consequently not like an important country, but like an important woman, not sure if he likes or dislikes this power her quasi-sister has.

She looks to her face for the last time, leaves the house and takes a taxi to the airport keeping Mexico in her mind.

Ffff an update <3
Oh dear anon, hope working goes well

Still sick? Makes me wonder if he'll ever just pass out or something when he's working so hard, hmmm
I hope the job consists of more than tips...actually that's probably what Alfred hopes, pfff
Oh my, people at that club sure do pay for their kinks. No need for warning, the fact that you begin to read that he's in the club and all that, you should totally know that something is coming.

Oh how I love you authoranon, keep up the good work!

Mexico, pretty and dear Mexico with her gorgeous hips and foul mouths and strong will. She always had her way to get men while being strong Cuba doesn’t know how but her violence is arousing and her wisdom is sensual according to men, two in fact: Spain and the Unites States.

Spain loved her, so very mucho, maybe more than Arthur loved Alfred. England had the nurturing and caring love of brothers, Spain the passionate and crazy love of lovers. England let his boy get freedom whit a broken heart. Spain only let resignation take him after ten years of war. And then, he would cry. Drunk, wine bottles and broken voice he would call their name, Peru, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Salvador, Venezuela, Ecuador and Mexico, Mexico, Mexico…

His favorite, the one Antonio made his as soon as she became a woman. His child lover that carried the wisdom of Mayan and Aztec in the eyes and the wide smile of a growing culture in the lips. The girl that came to hate him because she wanted to belong to herself. Like Alfred.

Spain was not longer and Empire and he only had Cuba, Puerto Rico and Philippines left. Only then she became his princess. His sweet sugarcane. Not his lover. That came later because unlike Mexico she wasn’t around when Spain arrived to America she was born when the first Spanish and African slaves arrived.

-Here we are, señorita- Says the taxi driver.

-Gracias.

Stop thinking about that she tells herself. After all Spain is not looking for nostalgia and neither is she. She has lust and Spain too, they are good for each other because she won’t ask for exclusivity and he won’t criticize the evil communism.

He won’t be picturing Mexico while kissing her.

She breaths.

And Spain smile to the beautiful, tall girl in front of him of him her dark skin shining for sweat and the shining white lights of the airport. He think Antonio, you must be lucky to still sleeping with this kind of women after all the things he did and all those fights. He’s right.

1) Hijas de su madre: polite way to say daughter of a b***t without really saying it
2) Cuba and Spain: Cubas was a Spanish possesion alost since Colonization day 1 but it really became important after Spain lost all American colonies byt eh end of the XVIII century in the XIX the only had Cuba, Puerto Rico and Philippines. Cuba becae independent in 1902 but Spain and the island have good relations now.
3) Spain and Mexico: A little of Loli is headcanon but the ten years independence war is real from 1810 to 1821.

So, I was half-hoping that the wages, even as a busboy, would be enough with the tips and that Al would be pleasantly surprised ;w;

But I guess not, lol.

I really liked seeing Francis all gentle, kinda-blushy, with Al. Makes me feel better about him, even though he was a bit of a (justified) ass, not too long back.

I kinda just want to hug all of them, anon <3

...in an awesome way, of course >.> <.< XD

I have to say, every line from Arthur's POV is pure WIN. *whimpers* Awww...Francis is such a horrible person, but I hope he comes to appreciate Arthur soon, especially the way Arthur stands behind his chair made me d'awww all over ~ I'm interested in what will go on with Ivan et. al. And scared for Feli...what will he do without Louise to protect him? 0.0 Man up, Italy!

Such a cute scene with Louise/Feli ... I think she may be falling for him just a little :) At least she's worried about him. And Feli...does he really love her, or is his happy-go-lucky personality just affectionate that she saved him from a worse fate? For Feli, are those two the same things?

More, and soon, please, anon! I live off of this fill like food or air or water or the internet!!!!

It's been a bit since you updated, but dont worry at all! I feel the same way with my current fill.

Great couple of sections, as always. You write Francis wonderfully for this situation, and I can't wait to see more of him and Al's interaction. It's very sad that Al can get so much more money selling his body than working at the restaurant, but I think it plays in well to the story. I just can't express my love for this story overall, anon. You are an awesome writer.

UNF, I need new panties

Matthew didn't get past the front porch of his own accord that day. One moment he was walking down the steps, ready to go to school, his Boyface on, and then the next moment he was clutching his knees to his chest and crying harder than he had ever allowed himself to as Matthew. He didn't know exactly when a warm hand stood him up and brought him next door, but next he knew he was sitting in the Bonnefoys's kitchen and Michelle was placing a big mug of hot chocolate in his hand.

"I don't care about the medical impossibilities, I swear you get PMS," Michelle said, attempting to be jocular even in the face of Matthew's abject misery. "You stay right here, okay? Don't even try to go to school when you're like this."

Matthew tried to say something, but all that came out was a quiet sort of sob.

"Yeah, I know. I could hear fighting last night."

Michelle brushed away Matthew's hair from his face with a sort of gentleness that came naturally to her, and smiled, laughing when Matthew grinned tremulously.

"We should go shopping tonight. You still need to get a pair of sensible shoes."

Matthew's smile faded, and he shook his head.

"Not tonight, Michelle. I just want to stay here," he said, voice hoarse from crying.

Matthew twisted his hair and then sipped his hot chocolate, just as Francis came in. He didn't have his cane, but he seemed to be just fine when it came to navigating the kitchen. He barely acknowledged his daughter as he passed, instead making a beeline for the coffeemaker.

Only when he had his cup of coffee in his hands did Francis finally say, "Hello Michelle, Madeleine. What are you girls doing out of school?"

"Maddie's distraught, Papa," Michelle said, as though that explained everything. "It wouldn't have been good for her to go to school when she's upset."

"That's all very well, cherie, but what are you still doing here?" Francis said with just a hint of a smile. "Go on, before you're late. I can take care of us both."

"Papaaa..." Michelle said, but with a roll of her eyes, collected her bag and started out. "Feel better soon, Madeleine."

There was a long silence as Francis savoured his coffee. Finally his head turned in Matthew's general direction.

"Why are you upset?" he asked, holding Matthew's hand in a searching sort of gesture. Matthew shuffered, and pulled his hand away.

"My brother told my father something about myself that I didn't want him to know," matthew said. "And I lost my temper."

"He told your father you are a girl," Francis said with a sad smile. "And you were not ready."

Matthew nodded, and hurriedly said 'yes' when he remembered that Francis couldn't see him. He didn't care how Francis knew about the intricacies of his condition. He just needed someone to talk to.

"What are you going to do?" Francis asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it's too much to be Madeleine, to change. I don't want to break my father's heart."

"You would do that for you family?"

Matthew sighed in miserable frustration.

"It's not like I can change anything, really," he said bitterly. "No matter what procedure I decide to undergo, no matter how much makeup I put on, I'll still be the same inside. I'll never have children or have a period. I'll never really be a woman, and when I think about it, all the physical measures I go to are vain and superficial."

"No, not at all," Francis said, and stood with the itnention to go back to his coffeemaker. "You may not believe me, but I know the importance of looking good so you can feel good. It's when one goes to religious lengths for good looks... Anyhow, I won't begrudge you a little makeup dear. You shouldn't either."

"Well, I look like a tranny hooker when put on makeup, anyhow," Matthew said darkly.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Do you want crepes?"

Matthew smiled waveringly and said that crepes sounded heavenly. He didn't get the opportunity to watch Francis make them without the benefit of sight, but they were incredible even out of the fridge.

"Please talk to your father about this soon," Francis said. "It pains Michelle and I when you are upset."

"He won't listen to me."

"Then make him listen."

Oh, thanks for taking the time to answer this curious!floored!anon.

I am definetely going to read your fill, I can only foresee OSOMSAUCE ahead!!

But your headcanon still makes me curious LOL Is your headcanon something like a FACE family idea? Where France is Dad and Canada is Brother...and England is Mom? I've read those stories, so very nice and well-written, most of them! *nodsnods*

But if that is the case...America would not ask his "dad" but would ask his "mom"? Or your America doesn't consider England for the "mom" role? O_o Which is kind of sad, you know, if you compare it to America labeling France as "dad". England gave out his everything for child!America, so how come is France regarded as the parent figure instead?

...but if you tell me this is all for the sake of USUK sexytimezzz, then by all means GO GO GO.

*is being a retard, sorry luv*

Oh wow. xD That was amazing, AuthorAnon! Sure it was short, but I think it was just the right length in a way. It was perfect in its shortness. :D Not a word seemed misplaced and it gave just enough so that the reader's imagination can fill in the rest.

Seconded... forever!!

Hi! Texas was pissed about the toe thing because that glue's not going to come off easily, and the parental thing...is my personal fanon is that older states get pretty overprotective about the states they grew up with/share the same parents. And with that many states, they'd have to help out a lot with the littler ones, like Virginia's case. So the way it would work here is Texas and Colorado, being the oldest of America's states with Mexico, would be super vigilante over Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona.

I'm really glad you like the story!

Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

Angels 44

OP

Angels 45

authornon

Sexual Gratification [8/?]

Re: Opium [2/?]

Re: Japan/Anyone, nosebleed ruins intimate moment

Re: Sexual Gratification [8/?]

happy op is so happy

authornon

Re: Angels 45

Re: All is Not As it Seems - 7d

Hysteria [3/?]

Re: Angels 45

Re: Hysteria [3b/?]

Re: Angels 45

OP Has the Shivers ~

Re: Angels 45

Re: Sexual Gratification [8/?]

Walls (9/?)

Walls (9/?)

CuriousAnon

Re: Yum

Re: Korea/fem!China - Consentual, Romantic Smut

a/n