The Best Medicine
folder
+G to L › Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,418
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+G to L › Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,418
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Hetalia and am not making any money from this fic.
The Best Medicine
Title: The Best Medicine
Pairing: Russia/America, Russia/Everyone
Notes: Kink Meme Fill
----------
Alfred choked slightly as the pills were shoved onto his tongue and Ivan's large hand closed over his mouth tightly. He held the pills in his mouth, refusing to swallow them. God knew what was in the things and he wasn't going to leave himself vulnerable to Ivan like that, no matter that he probably couldn't be much more vulnerable than he was now, arms chained high above his head, legs spread with a bar leaving him utterly immobile. He hated being helpless, despised himself for having been caught in this position, despised Ivan more for putting him in this position.
"Now now," Ivan crooned, reaching up to stroke Alfred's throat lightly. "Good boys should take their medicine, yes?" The stroking became harder, massaging until the pills slipped away from him, sliding down his throat feeling ten times the size that they actually were. He couldn't hope to puke them up when he was bound like this and frustration pricked at the back of his eyes as he felt them settle like lead in his stomach.
Ivan beamed, pressing a kiss to his cheek lightly. "Such a good boy. You'll join the others soon, yes. But you should not worry. You are always my favourite, even if you are not so much the land of the free anymore." He laughed, sending chills down Alfred's spine as his vision began to blur.
----------
Ivan has many maids in his house, each of them a different nationality. He loves them all, cares for them all, gives them clothes and food and toys and love. His English rose with a stubborn chin and deep green eyes beneath severely plucked brows who's head turns demurely instead of flushing with angered scowl, the Japanese beauty who blushes so prettily when dressed in short skirts and garters, his sweet French maid with blond locks which are longer than ever, lips rouged and so delicately desperate since he beat the sluttish tendencies away.
He loves them all, spends time with them all. He rewards them when they are good and punishes them for misbehaviour, although that is less, much less common now. He thinks that he is good at training his maids.
Ah, but there is one who he loves more than the others. His favourite, his sweet one.
His maid kneels obediently in front of him. Alfred's hair has grown longer since he first became Ivan's maid, shoulder length and golden and his eyes are no longer hidden behind glasses. Ivan likes looking at him like this. He was attractive before in his vibrancy, his exuberance, but like this, quiet and obedient and submissive, Ivan thinks that he is very beautiful.
He reaches out to tilt Alfred's head up to him, fingers beneath his chin to see painted lips and eyelids, the adoring expression in his eyes. "You have taken your medicine, yes?" he asks, because good boys, good maids take their medicine and attend to their looks in the morning before coming to work.
Alfred nods. "Of course, sir," he replies, never breaking his gaze, although a faint flush colours his cheeks. He is paler now which Ivan likes. It is not proper for maids to have sunbrushed skin. It makes them look like common peasants who toil in the fields, not his precious beloved ones. No, their time in the frozen north had improved them all. He was very proud of that idea.
"Good boy," Ivan croons, running his thumb over Alfred's lips, smearing the lipstick. "Show me, my sweet. Show that I do not need to punish you." Because they are all still new and sometimes they must be reminded of their place. He only does it because he loves them, he wishes to improve them until they are perfect. They will thank him eventually. They will thank him for treating them so kindly, for educating them so well. If he did not love them then he would not punish them.
Alfred stands, arms clasped behind his back as he goes to bend over Ivan's desk, spreading his legs so the skirts flare out around him, revealing stockings and suspenders and the lace garter belt around his waist. There is no underwear. Ivan pats his ass approvingly, sliding his hand up between his legs. His flaccid cock is pinned back between his legs, hiding it, because maids should not walk around in such a state and he looks almost like a girl like this which makes Ivan thrill to see. His maids take care of themselves every morning, he watches them, lithe bodies nude and beautiful, kneeling before him, legs spread as they stroke themselves because it would be highly improper for them to work while erect and he likes seeing the flushes on their cheeks, likes to hear the soft moans and cries. Sometimes he lets them touch each other, in pairs, in threes, sometimes he likes them all to focus on one maid. It is a treat for good behaviour or a punishment for bad behaviour depending on the situation. He likes seeing it either way. They should all know the punishments and rewards that Ivan can give.
Alfred whimpers beneath him as he brushes her bound genitals and moves his fingers backwards. One of the training devices is held tight within his hole and he smiles, bestowing a little kiss to Alfred's neck, just above the collar when he sees that his orders have been obeyed so thoroughly. "You have moved to the larger one," he says, his happiness evident. He likes his maids to be ready for him, to be slick and loose whenever he wishes to be served by them. He does not like to hurt his precious things.
He strokes Alfred's ass as he forces a finger in beside the toy, feeling Alfred's inner walls clenched tight around him and thinks about how good that would feel around his cock. Alfred moans, spreading his legs further and Ivan does not mind because Alfred only spreads his legs for him, at his command. None of his sweet maids will ever allow themselves to be touched without permission, be it each other or even themselves. That was one of the first lessons that Ivan taught and they learned quickly with the right incentives, although sometimes he has to reinforce the lesson.
He remembers catching his English maid touching himself. He had been disappointed, but Alfred had helped Ivan to retrain him. It sends a flash of heat through him to remember. He had ordered Alfred to tie Arthur up while Ivan had pressed the toy inside, switching it on to make Arthur writhe. And then he had let Alfred touch himself over the maid, had let him come over the maid's body again and again until Arthur was filthy and the look in Arthur's eyes as he realised how much Ivan loved him, how good Ivan was being to him, had warmed Ivan's heart.
But now, ah now he has Alfred laid out before him and it is beautiful. The corset cinches in a mannish waist to make it slim and more fitting for the ruffled skirts and bodice, although there is nothing that can be done for the broad shoulders and he likes the way that they bunch beneath his fingers.
Alfred sighs softly as Ivan's hands slide beneath the top of the corset and it thrills him as always to feel not flat firm muscles anymore, but the swell of breasts, small and sensitive. Alfred sighs breathily as Ivan cups and kneads them, thanking him without words for the medicine that Ivan asks him to take which gives him such a thing, because nothing can be better than his body being played with, than his body, his very being being remade as his master wishes.
Pairing: Russia/America, Russia/Everyone
Notes: Kink Meme Fill
----------
Alfred choked slightly as the pills were shoved onto his tongue and Ivan's large hand closed over his mouth tightly. He held the pills in his mouth, refusing to swallow them. God knew what was in the things and he wasn't going to leave himself vulnerable to Ivan like that, no matter that he probably couldn't be much more vulnerable than he was now, arms chained high above his head, legs spread with a bar leaving him utterly immobile. He hated being helpless, despised himself for having been caught in this position, despised Ivan more for putting him in this position.
"Now now," Ivan crooned, reaching up to stroke Alfred's throat lightly. "Good boys should take their medicine, yes?" The stroking became harder, massaging until the pills slipped away from him, sliding down his throat feeling ten times the size that they actually were. He couldn't hope to puke them up when he was bound like this and frustration pricked at the back of his eyes as he felt them settle like lead in his stomach.
Ivan beamed, pressing a kiss to his cheek lightly. "Such a good boy. You'll join the others soon, yes. But you should not worry. You are always my favourite, even if you are not so much the land of the free anymore." He laughed, sending chills down Alfred's spine as his vision began to blur.
----------
Ivan has many maids in his house, each of them a different nationality. He loves them all, cares for them all, gives them clothes and food and toys and love. His English rose with a stubborn chin and deep green eyes beneath severely plucked brows who's head turns demurely instead of flushing with angered scowl, the Japanese beauty who blushes so prettily when dressed in short skirts and garters, his sweet French maid with blond locks which are longer than ever, lips rouged and so delicately desperate since he beat the sluttish tendencies away.
He loves them all, spends time with them all. He rewards them when they are good and punishes them for misbehaviour, although that is less, much less common now. He thinks that he is good at training his maids.
Ah, but there is one who he loves more than the others. His favourite, his sweet one.
His maid kneels obediently in front of him. Alfred's hair has grown longer since he first became Ivan's maid, shoulder length and golden and his eyes are no longer hidden behind glasses. Ivan likes looking at him like this. He was attractive before in his vibrancy, his exuberance, but like this, quiet and obedient and submissive, Ivan thinks that he is very beautiful.
He reaches out to tilt Alfred's head up to him, fingers beneath his chin to see painted lips and eyelids, the adoring expression in his eyes. "You have taken your medicine, yes?" he asks, because good boys, good maids take their medicine and attend to their looks in the morning before coming to work.
Alfred nods. "Of course, sir," he replies, never breaking his gaze, although a faint flush colours his cheeks. He is paler now which Ivan likes. It is not proper for maids to have sunbrushed skin. It makes them look like common peasants who toil in the fields, not his precious beloved ones. No, their time in the frozen north had improved them all. He was very proud of that idea.
"Good boy," Ivan croons, running his thumb over Alfred's lips, smearing the lipstick. "Show me, my sweet. Show that I do not need to punish you." Because they are all still new and sometimes they must be reminded of their place. He only does it because he loves them, he wishes to improve them until they are perfect. They will thank him eventually. They will thank him for treating them so kindly, for educating them so well. If he did not love them then he would not punish them.
Alfred stands, arms clasped behind his back as he goes to bend over Ivan's desk, spreading his legs so the skirts flare out around him, revealing stockings and suspenders and the lace garter belt around his waist. There is no underwear. Ivan pats his ass approvingly, sliding his hand up between his legs. His flaccid cock is pinned back between his legs, hiding it, because maids should not walk around in such a state and he looks almost like a girl like this which makes Ivan thrill to see. His maids take care of themselves every morning, he watches them, lithe bodies nude and beautiful, kneeling before him, legs spread as they stroke themselves because it would be highly improper for them to work while erect and he likes seeing the flushes on their cheeks, likes to hear the soft moans and cries. Sometimes he lets them touch each other, in pairs, in threes, sometimes he likes them all to focus on one maid. It is a treat for good behaviour or a punishment for bad behaviour depending on the situation. He likes seeing it either way. They should all know the punishments and rewards that Ivan can give.
Alfred whimpers beneath him as he brushes her bound genitals and moves his fingers backwards. One of the training devices is held tight within his hole and he smiles, bestowing a little kiss to Alfred's neck, just above the collar when he sees that his orders have been obeyed so thoroughly. "You have moved to the larger one," he says, his happiness evident. He likes his maids to be ready for him, to be slick and loose whenever he wishes to be served by them. He does not like to hurt his precious things.
He strokes Alfred's ass as he forces a finger in beside the toy, feeling Alfred's inner walls clenched tight around him and thinks about how good that would feel around his cock. Alfred moans, spreading his legs further and Ivan does not mind because Alfred only spreads his legs for him, at his command. None of his sweet maids will ever allow themselves to be touched without permission, be it each other or even themselves. That was one of the first lessons that Ivan taught and they learned quickly with the right incentives, although sometimes he has to reinforce the lesson.
He remembers catching his English maid touching himself. He had been disappointed, but Alfred had helped Ivan to retrain him. It sends a flash of heat through him to remember. He had ordered Alfred to tie Arthur up while Ivan had pressed the toy inside, switching it on to make Arthur writhe. And then he had let Alfred touch himself over the maid, had let him come over the maid's body again and again until Arthur was filthy and the look in Arthur's eyes as he realised how much Ivan loved him, how good Ivan was being to him, had warmed Ivan's heart.
But now, ah now he has Alfred laid out before him and it is beautiful. The corset cinches in a mannish waist to make it slim and more fitting for the ruffled skirts and bodice, although there is nothing that can be done for the broad shoulders and he likes the way that they bunch beneath his fingers.
Alfred sighs softly as Ivan's hands slide beneath the top of the corset and it thrills him as always to feel not flat firm muscles anymore, but the swell of breasts, small and sensitive. Alfred sighs breathily as Ivan cups and kneads them, thanking him without words for the medicine that Ivan asks him to take which gives him such a thing, because nothing can be better than his body being played with, than his body, his very being being remade as his master wishes.