hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 15

<--- Not the original claimant. But have a midnight fill anyways.

The room was dark and the air was cool. He preferred it that way. When he had this room built he'd had the doors reinforced with enough steel to hold back even America at his worst. The carpet he'd chosen wasn't soft to the touch by any means. It had been chosen not for it's bland, dark color, but more for the rough material that made it up. There was few lights in his little room, and very many hooks.

Kneeling in a few of them, wrapped in ropes, sealed with spells, was a pale, limp nation. His pet's skin was lit up by the few lights and he admired the way the ropes cast shadows on the pale expanse. He checked the bonds holding the unconscious body upright carefully. While this nation wasn't known for the brute strength of say, America, he wanted to take no risks, not with what he was about to do.

He shivered with anticipation. It had been so long since he'd had someone under him for the first time that the even without any stimulation he was dangerously close to comming. He tore himself away from petting the soft hair, and forced his legs to carry him over to the shelf where a clock was sitting ticking away.

Four am. He had three or so hours before his precious little cargo would wake up and he would...have the pleasure of dealing with it. He could walk away, let time tick away and come back when the body held upright over there in bondage was tense and awake. Or he thought, he could take the edge off right now and he'd have more time later.

He picked up a little something from the shelf. He walked over.

His thumb rubbed over pink lips. Some might describe them as 'feminine' but he'd never really thought so. A groan rolled up through him as he coaxed the mouth open and slid the gag home. Now he could pet and hold the soft curls in both hands and not have to hold his pet's mouth open. Suddenly he had to do something, anything, the pressure!

His hands fumbled at his belt, then with a hiss of relief, he freed himself. One hand wrapped around the longish strands to pull the other nation's head up right. Shaking slightly - nerves? anticipation? he slid himself into the hot wet mouth.

"Oh god." His pet's mouth was heaven. Hot, wet, and oh god above. He could hear the drip of saliva falling to the floor as he pushed himself in deeper. Suddenly the pliant head underneath of him jerked back.

Perhaps he'd misjudged the dose.

"Mngh!" The trapped nation panicked beneath him. He could feel the throat working, the words forcibly muffled. His pet struggled as he thrust again and again into the wet mouth. The soaked sounds of the thrusts and whines from his pet echoed.

"Easy, easy," he soothed, ignoring the desperate keens massaging his cock. "Breath through your nose, not your mouth, easy."

He knew he was getting rough, maybe too rough for his delicate looking pet? No matter. It was his pleasure that mattered. Carefully, he wound hair his right hand for better grip. He could feel the impact of his cockhead against the back of his pet's throat with every thrust, slipping down a bit to feel the muscles contract in a gag before pulling out slightly. Faster and faster his hips moved, accompanied by the feel and muffled sounds of hysterical protests.

Then -

"Ungh!" His hips snapped forward and stayed buried in the spasming throat, as he orgasmed, both hands entangled in blond curls. Cum spilled out the corner of his pet's mouth and he looked down.

Canada's eyes were closed and his body limp in the ropes, as limp as he'd been when England had first shoved himself in that throat. Sticky white fluid dripped out of his former colony's mouth and a thin bit of blood stained it pink from the broken skin along his lips. England stroked the sweat soaked blond hair with one hand.

He'd let his newest pet rest. There was time for more later, and he had America to flog anyways for pulling the living room hook out. He'd make his wayward colony bleed and then be in a mood to re-conquer Canada.

*Tented fingers*
This.
I like it.

OMG! Yay! I'm so glad this is being filled, it's my super-secret kink.
It's brilliant so far, and omg poor Canada, I can't wait until the next part~

I find this hot and how I feel veeery guilty >.>

HOLY CRAP your so clever anon! you tricked me...but at the same time "didnt" because you never /said/ America and ...Must STALK

seriously the mood was both erotic, creepy, super dark and wow

When he woke up, he felt his stomach roll. He tosses his head in an attempt to get rid of whatever is across his eyes, preventing him from seeing but he can't. He's stuck there, in a world of darkness, body aching, and something drying on his face. The ropes are tight, but not too tight. By all rights he should be able to break them but he can't. It's as if something steals the strength from his thrashing body away every time he tries to break free.

Oddly enough, it's not the ropes or the darkness that sends him into a panic, but the fact he can't close his mouth. He's used to the dark and the pressure of a silent night and being alone, but now he's drooling, and he can taste, oh god, he can taste the blood and the - and the -

It isn't until he can't scream anymore that he stops screaming.

His throat feels like the wrong side of a forest fire, and he's hurting even more now. Turns out, thrashing and struggling and panicking will in fact tighten his bonds and it's all he can do to just go limp and pray. He doesn't hear the door open but he does think that he hear his brother's stifled yelp. He lifts his head in the vague direction of where he heard the noise but he gets nothing. He'd try to make some sort of noise, communicate, something, but the agony of his throat prevents him from even croaking.

He's also very determinedly not thinking about what's in his mouth, on his face, dried and caked.

Something or someone, pats him on the head and he jumps. Suddenly he's falling and before he can even think to move or run or do anything, he's picked up and cradled next to a warm body. His hope of being rescued falls when he feels himself being deposited into a bed.

It's pretty much demolished when, despite his weak flailing about, his arms are very carefully secured above his head and he's flipped over. Given what had just happened - ohgodoohgodnotthispleaseno - he knows what this position likely means. He clenches every muscle in his body and waits.

The next touch isn't what he expected nor where. It's two warm,oily hands, massaging his back. Carefully, the hand presses and rubs, and massages and it feels so good, especially after - nonotthatdon'tthink - he wants to melt into it. It's a soothing, warm and comforting touch. The sort of touch he imagines you might get from a lover while being pampered.

The sheer ridiculousness of the situations bubbles up out of his throat and he wants to cry.

Against his will and his better judgment, he's eventually lured to relax, even when the massage reaches his ass. By this time he's boneless and if it wasn't for the ropes, and the - don'tgothereAlhelpme - he'd think he was just having some really nice casual sex with one of the few nations that remember him.

He's got enough brain cells left over to jerk forwards when an oily finger breeches him for the first time. A tiny, whisper of a sound escapes him in protest. He doesn't want this. Not like this. Not ever like this. "Ng.."

The finger pauses for an eternity. Then a third hand strokes his cheek and neck and he erupts. Or tries to at least. He's pinned down and can't move and there's two people and ohgodthiscan'tberealwhyaren'tyouhere.

"Nn!"

The fingers never leave his ass and he doesn't even get an inch of room to use as leverage. Whoever they are, they aren't talking to him and they're determined to get what they want. With a sob, he goes limp and stops fighting. Why him? Why is this happening to him?

Soon, another finger joins the first and they just move back and forth, not stretching like he thought they'd be done. Eventually it begins to feel, well, good. He pants with it, wanting it to hurt so he can hate the feeling. Instead of stopping at the noise, more warm oil is poured over his ass and those damn fingers keep moving in and out till something eases. Finally there's a little bit of a stretch, not a lot, and he twitches slightly in pleasure. The third hand never stops petting him, and the hand on his back keeps stroking and the fingers in him barely move. The second and third fingers are almost hitting that spot, but not quiet. He'd push back, but he doesn't want this, and he does.

"Hngh~"

He's falling into it and goes prey-quiet. He's 'rewarded' with another finger. No pain, not with the care they're taking in this. It feels like an eternity - but really it's been four fingers - when he hears a voice.

"Now."

His heart breaks all over. He knows that voice, has obeyed that voice for so many years and - don'tthinkpleaseAl. The hand in him is removed and he can't suppress the tiny mewl of protest that escapes him. His tormentor chuckles above him and rolls him over on to his back.

"There, there," he's told as *that* hand, from *that* person strokes him gently. "There, there."

Despite all the time spent stretching him, he still feels a bit of a burn and he welcomes it as someone pushes into him. It's not his first time, but this isn't something he's done a lot. His second tormentor rocks slowly into him. He's stuck there in a wash of pleasure so deep and intense if this had been by choice, he'd never let them go. The wave that brings him over, voice already too broken to cry out still trying to make noise, comes by surprise.

"!"

He does feel the second one come deep inside him, a burst of heat oozing into his bones and soul. It's so deep he'll never be rid of it. The blindfold on him is lifted away as sleep drags him under.

Something shatters when he gets confirmation of England fastening a collar around his neck - and the matching one that already lays against his twin's. He lets the darkness sweep him away. Maybe the world won't be so insane when he wakes up.

His twin looks so gorgeous like that he thinks. He's never wanted anyone else, he thought he was happy with who he had, but now.

Now?

Oh he gets it.

Really gets it.

His twin twisted so perfectly, so breath taking in the ropes. He'd felt so good as he carried him to the indicated bed, and fastened the leather cuffs. He'd wanted to touch and kiss and bite and lick the pale skin flinching under his eyes, but had obeyed and let England do it instead.

He remembered being there once, a long time ago, shivering and shaking under hard hands, mewling and begging.

He rocked back against the plug in memory. He liked the memory. Sure he'd been terrified out of his mind the first time he'd woken up with England's cock down his throat. Yea, the first time he'd been taken he'd struggled but now...

He crept back to the bed with a warm cloth in hand. He stood by, firmly holding his position as England gently washed his brother clean. When England was done, he knelt to lick him clean. He'd've like to do more, but that would be overstepping his bounds and he was being England's good boy.

England smiles at him and he smiles back.

“Comfort your brother when he wakes up.” America nods. He can do that. “No talking.”

As America curls around Canada, England walks out of the room and closes the door.

One time the door would be locked and America tied up in the same sort of bonds that still hold his brother. Now? America’s England’s good boy and as soon as Canada wakes up, he’ll convince him that he needs to be as well. He closes his eyes and joins his twin in sleep.

I love you so hard for this. It was just... gwah. Dark, so twisted and so fucking hot.

God, I feel so damn guilty about finding this hot. Jesus.

I loved this, very creepy, especially the last part and all the really terrifying implications. Poor Canada…

Hetalia Kink meme part 15

Pretty Little Ones 1/3

Re: Pretty Little Ones 1/3

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Re: Pretty Little Ones 2a/3

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Re: Pretty Little Ones 3/3

Re: Pretty Little Ones 3/3

Re: Pretty Little Ones 3/3

Re: Pretty Little Ones 3/3