Britain x Reader smut, read at your own caution.
Trigger warning: britain, smut, the puns are so bad they’re triggering
For @totally-not-a-homo-theo you freak and @britain-offical bc that would be hilarious
(Guys when I say warning I MEAN IT. Heed my warning with all seriousness.)
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Britain frowned into his teacup, wrinkling his nose at the consistency of the naff liquid inside it.
"This is cack!!" he said britishly. "The person who made this is a berk!!"
"What's wrong with it?" y/n asked, looking up at the sexy country with sparkling orbs.
"The tea is the texture of pIsH," Britain sighed britishly, then smirked. "It needs some...cream."
"Oh?" y/n raised an eyebrow. "Where do you plan to get that /cream?"
"From the cream tree" Britain deadpanned. "Would you like to help me harvest it?"
Y/n's uwu purple orbs dropped in disappointment, but they nodded "Of course, sir daddy britain"
Y/n began to head to Britain's garden of cream trees, resigned, when they felt a rough hand on their shoulder.
"Not so fast, dear," he growled, pulling y/n back. "We're getting cream from the /other tree."
"Blimey!" y/n gasps as Britain pulls them in for a kiss, already working on their shirt buttons with one hand and gripping their arse with the other.
Y/n melts into him, an eager moan escaping their lips as their tongues battle for dominance.
The country pulls away from their mouth and begins sucking on y/n's neck, leaving marks in the shape of a british flag. "You're mine now, you scrubber," Britain groans. "I'll colonize you so hard your harbor will be squirting with tea."
"Yes," breathes y/n because they don't know how to say no to this– it was an INCREDIBLE business deal– "Colonize me, daddy"
Britain grins wolfishly. "You'll have to earn it," he nips y/n's neck teasingly, drawing out a sharp gasp. "Only good girls get to have my flagpole in them."
"Anything you want, sir," y/n agrees, desperate to feel Britains big British flagpole inside them.
"On your knees," the country orders. "Respect for your king, god save the king."
"What sort of kinky are you?" Germany, who was watching the whole thing, cries and runs away.
As y/n gets down, Britain drops his trousers revealing his member, hard and dripping with (tea flavored) precum.
"Crikey!" y/n exclaims at the sight of Britain's fatally sized bollocks. "They're bigger than the British empire!"
"Blow on my crumpet~" Britain purrs to the shocked y/n. "Harvest the cream from my tree."
"You mean trumpet?" y/n begins, but is silenced when Britain thrusts his fish stick at them in an attempt to shut them up.
"Not so fast," y/n smirks, leaning away and teasing the hot country (but not as hot as Canada)'s bellend with their tongue. Britain grits his teeth and knits together his music staff eyebrows, precum making his flagpole wetter than the Boston Harbor. At last, he couldn't take it and thrusts into y/n's mouth.
Y/n gags, throat convulsing around the uncooked fish stick, using their hands to massage what they couldn't fit in their mouth. Britain moans britishly.
"You should cook the fish stick," Italy comments, making hand gestures so wild he slaps France, who was watching next to him.
France slaps Italy back, starting a war, and Britain's tree floods y/n's mouth with cream. Y/n swallows with a posh british accent.
"You'll pay for that," Britain growls at y/n once he steps away. "I'll punish you just like I punished 'murica."
America, who was also watching, backs away nervously and joins Germany, who is crying in the corner.
Y/n whimpers, staring at Britain with glistening, lust filled seeing spheres, as the country rips a leg off JK Rowling and spanks y/n with the bloody limb.
"Booby tits," Britain says, dirty talking in british. "Numpty pillock pish tosh wally."
Y/n is so aroused at the sound of the british potty words that they cum straight into Britain's tea.
