There is no sense in this. Poor attempt in parodying Twilight (as a proud anti, that is my mission) and it turned out like... this. All I can say about this is that your brain will hurt because I just raped thesaurus. (I should be writing Memories, damn it.)
It was another normal day, when this one oddly sparkly Russian was once again harassing innocent citizens, especially that American one who, just for your information, wasn't innocent. At all. Actually he isn't even your normal citizen. At all.
"Dude, you're so not dazzling me right now," America said as he turned away from the dazzling Russian.
"Am I really not, my dear golden sunflower topped with icy ice-cream?" The absolutely fap-tastic man asked, his clear as their love for each other erection poking the hesitating Americans hip. It made him chew his lower lip in wonder; how could someone have so long and huge and dazzling dick, although he couldn't even see it.
However, the show must go on.
"You aren't even sparkling, my darling," the golden haired American happily pointed out, his index finger brushing his (former) rival's nose on purpose.
The huge Russian gasped and his hand shifted to cover his mouth, his cock shifting against the beautiful American's thigh; the sweet boy in question bit back a desperate groan because he was desperate, why the fuck wasn't Russia doing anything else than poking him with his dick? It should go in, in!
Anyway, we were left on that part where the chunky Russian gasped. After that he happened to say: "You are right, my sunlight soon-to-be covered in whipped cream between eighty-thousand cherries and sixteen rose pedals!"
"Why sixteen?"
"Sixteen what?" The gorgeous Russian raised one polished eyebrow.
"Why sixteen rose pedals?" The young American asked in frustration. Seriously, he needed a good fuck and if Russia wasn't going to give him one, he was going to use...
..dundundundun...
DU-DUN!
You're absolutely correct! His left hand. Why left, you may ask? Why not? Besides, everything is on left!
"When were we talking about rose pedals?" Asked the wonderful Russian now dipped in glitter with 80s' disco music coming from his ass.
The stunning American raised an unpolished eyebrow when France ran past them, naked. "You said ''eighty-thousand cherries and sixteen rose pedals'' just now," he told the hot ('n cold) Russian.
This significant one raised a happy eyebrow when Hungary ran after France, waving her frying pan around rather dangerously. "I did, my little piece of cake melted honey flying in the air?" He asked, looking shocked.
"Whatever, my 50 meter erection is poking the ceiling soon so how about we just get on with it already?" The marvelous American suggested but the attractive Russian had taken the search of mentioned fifty meter erection as the mission of his entire life.
"Oh, but I see no 50 meter erections floating around here, my dear raindrop of morning dew that glimmers-"
America promptly shoved his tongue down Russia's throat.
No one noticed the Brit in the corner, hiding under a blanket and currently dying in shame because of the brutal rape of his language while the two superpowers made out quite passionately and with lots of groping, tongue and teeth. Ah well, at least Hungary was satisfied.
...Anyone want some awesome-sauce now?