Warning: language and mature themes


England moaned in a breathy, high pitched whine the more America spoke to him. That's it, just speaking to him. Nevermind the superpower was fucking him into the bed hard enough to chip the paint on the wall with the force of it, he could have just come from America talking to him in every different accent his country had to offer. Right now he was using a Southwestern Texan* accent and England was practically seeing stars.

"I didn't think you'd've* been so into this, darlin'. Maybe I shoulda asked for this a lil' earlier." Yes, America had been the one to unleash this new side of his former caretaker and, he had to say, it was really hot. He had always been interested in how England's accents would switch when he was angry, sad, happy, confused and wanted to try this out with him. He certainly hadn't counted on England practically demanding him to change accents every few minutes or so in very thick Scouse* that went against everything England believed in in way of grammar.

He wasn't complaining, though.

"Oh God..." The smaller nation shuddered, a tremor that ran all along his naked and flushed body and ended in the pit of his stomach as a wonderful warmth that only added to his mounting climax. America hadn't even touched his cock yet and it was already leaking precum, dripping down his thighs. "N-New York...do tha' one."

They had agreed to take turns in asking the other to switch accents (though England had broken that agreement about 5 accents back at Inland Northern*) and America asked for Cockney*, finding the broken up English and the breach in his 'holier-than-thou' Heightened Received Pronunciation* a huge turn on.

"So I was goin' ovah those papers you sent, babe. To want to stop trade out in Germany is a bold move, ain' it?" The change in accent brought his voice a few octaves lower to be able to be able to put stress on O's and he tried using as many T's as possible so the 'Th' sound he made was used in excess. It worked magic on the Brit and the smaller man placed his hands over his mouth to suppress another high, keening whine.

It didn't matter how far National Commerce was from bed talk, so long as America kept talking.

"Oi f-fough' dis wos too much...oh, fock...of a bova to begin wif, a-a'yways. Hah am oi...nnh!...s'posed to loike da fought of gi'ing away tea for somefin' as slipshod as meats? Oh, focking hell yes!"* The American couldn't help but grin impishly down at the other for becoming so undone over this, coupled with America purposely adding particularly hard jerks of his hips to see if England would break their little game so he could laugh at him later about it. And, to be honest, he had no idea what the older nation just said.

Yet, England wasn't the only one overly enjoying this as America was just having fun watching the blonde trying to - failing to - contain himself. The expression on his face alone was something he could jerk off to but the rest of him was just gorgeous; Arthur's face had managed to reach a nice red that touched the tips of his ears by Hudson Valley*, skin was sweaty and flushed in a pink that showed easily, eyes were brimmed with tears that he refused to shed, and his hands clawing at the sheets underneath him. It was a sight.

"Lord almighty, baby...who knew you could be such a little perv? How would you feel if I talked like this durin' meetings?" Then, his grin becoming wicked, he returned back to his Texan accent which he happened to know from a little birdie (France) was England's favorite. "Or this?" Lowering his voice and bringing it to Arthur flushed ear, he was practically purring at him. "You'd be hard just from hearin' me talkin' like this wouldn' you?"

"Oh sod off you focking-AH!" Effectively cutting him off with a nice aim at his prostate, America smiled down at him while England glared up, the threat in it not as severe with him looking so cute.

"What was that, hon? Are you sayin' I'm wrong?" Hands gripping his hips, America effortlessly flipped the light man over and pressed up against him, chin on his shoulder and lips right next to his ear. "I could stop talkin' like this."

England let out a - very manly - squeak as he was manhandled and was terribly close to cursing the other out had it not been for that voice being right behind him, around him, up against him. It didn't sound like America and, with this position, gave him the faint impression that he was being fucked by one of America's own citizens. It made him feel wrong. Dirty. So good.

Already at his limit, the damn Duracell Bunny of an American only picked up speed despite having had a previous round when England was nearly spent. It forced him to grab the headboard with one hand to keep himself from hitting his head against it and it made it harder to breathe, his panting not giving him nearly enough oxygen.

America's voice didn't break through to him anymore as he was simply focusing on the boy hitting that magical spot inside him repeatedly. That terrible thought kept coming back to him and only making the knot tightening in his abdomen that much tighter. He came in a flash of white, his eyes glazing over and hand tightening its grip on the headboard to an almost painful pressure.

The superpower followed not long after, falling in bed beside his tiny lover and grinning at him like the stupid, endearing idiot he was. "Good?" His regular General American* was back and as loved as ever.

It had been great. England felt incredibly satisfied, worn, dirty. The tears were harder to hold back but he managed. "Yeah...good."


A/N: I happen to have a thing for Cockney myself and this story came to mind. It much harder to write than I thought it would be and American accents are harder to pinpoint and describe the changes from what I speak which is a West Coast Californian. Originally, I had planned on making this end funny but then this ending came to me and I couldn't help myself. If I feel it, I might continue this just for the heck of it. Thank you for reading!

Accents:

Southwestern Texan*- sounds a bit drawn out, especially in A's, I can't give you much on this since I can just hear the difference myself

Scouse*- common in Liverpool, I also don't know much of this accent but it can be compared to The Beatles

New York*- A New York accent tends to give a deeper voice as the O's are brought up in octave to highlight them. T's, a the beginning of a word, make a strange mix between a 'Th' sound and an "S" sound that results in a small mouth in a kind of whistling motion but are usually left out entirely when in a compund word such as aren't (aren') or can't (can') with a bit of stress on the 'A' or other vowels so as not to confuse it with can. When an "R" comes after a vowel, it is often dropped, "Ir" becomes "Oi" and "Th" becomes "D".

Inland Northern*- combines elements of Western New England and Upper Midwestern

Cockney*- Is common to upper London area and is a messier version of the London accent. For words such as this (dis) and those (dose), the "Th" becomes "D" while in words with "Th" in the middle in words such as bother (bovah or mother (muva) it is replaced by "V". In words with "Th" at the end of sentence, it becomes "F" such as in maths (mafs). "Er" at the end of words are replaced by wide AH sound. Double "T" used in words like letter (le'er) are skipped over in the motion of Uh-Oh. "I" are replaced by a widened "Oi" sound (like-loike) and "Ow" by "Ah" (brown-brahn).

Heightened Received Pronunciation*- is basically the way England speaks in the show

Hudson Valley*- is kind of a Jersey dialect

General American*- the way America speaks in the show

What the Hell they're saying:

"...you'd've..." - "...you would have..."

"Oi fough' dis wos too much of a bova to begin wif, a'yways. Hah am oi s'posed to loike da fought of gi'ing away tea for somefin' as slipshod as meats? Oh, focking hell yes!"-"I thought this was too much of a bother to begin with, anyways. How am I supposed to like the thought of giving away tea for something as cheap as meats? Oh, fucking hell yes!" (Note: "focking" was intentional)