Hetalia Kink meme part 15

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hetalia kink meme
part 15

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Ahh yeah that is the super duper delayed Christmas reveal for 2009 LOL...just found the time to finish it now...
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Alleyways of London [2/5]

[(Anonymous)]

On a good day, America can drag his truck for miles without breaking a sweat. On a bad, a day in war when he’s been shot at and cut up and faced man’s worst atrocities, he can carry the bodies of his fallen comrades back to safety, let an injured boy of only nineteen lean on him because his leg’s been shot off, and continue fighting once he’s done just that. He sees England and the others, heads bowed and voices silent, whispering about it, about how his strength is unnatural.

England. England and the others, at the party, the party he’d left…

They have to have gone looking for him, right? They must be worried that he isn’t back yet, they must, they’re his friends-

I’m surprised we didn’t kill the bastard. We gave him enough to knock out a horse.

He can’t die, idiot. Besides, we needed to give him that much otherwise he’d still have that damned super strength.

They know who he is. America lets out a strangled noise and thrashes against the drugs clouding his mind and movements, the restraints and the heaviness of his muscles. He tries to, but he can’t. He can barely fucking move.

It’s a wonder he’s being so quiet. He’s never quiet like this at the conferences. Can he even talk?

Someone pinches his nipple again, pulls hard and it hurts and he tries to yell, to say something but he can’t form words and the only sounds he makes are small and frustrated and helpless.

I don’t think he even knows who we are.

Let’s just get on with it before the drugs wear off.

Hands, everywhere, cold and clumsy, lips and teeth attacking his flesh and leaving little blooming bruises and bite marks along the skin.

No.

Someone rolling his nipples between their fingers, tugging and teasing until they’re sore and his chest stings.

No.

A click as his belt is undone, and he leans heavily against the ground because it’s all he can do, he can’t move, he can’t scream the only thing he can do is make little, desperate noises as they pull his pants and briefs down to his ankles, over his shoes and off and spread his trembling thighs as wide as they’ll go, spread his ass cheeks even wider and it’s cold and his muscles twitch and contract and this isn’t happening, nations don’t do this to each other not to him why him no no no no no no no god no-

America lets out a strangled yell.

Oh god, that was loud, what if someone heard him? Should we gag him?

Fuck, he’s never quiet. He’s never been quiet, not even as a child. Damn. A pause. No, no. I have a better idea.

America can feel the cruel smirk, the venom dripping in this nation’s – nation’s, oh god he’ll see him again, every conference but he won’t know – words. He’s not scared, though, because heroes don’t get scared oh god where is everyone who is this why won’t the drugs wear off why why why who?

He’s got such a big mouth, why not put it to good use?