Uh America x Japan Empire except Japan is fucking dead
TW: literally necrophilia I am so sorry
Japan has been dead for idk like 6 days? Or longer?? Who's to say I'm writing this on a whim :)
Nothing makes sense! so much of this was written at 3-5 am so it's very bad!!!
Being a global superpower had its perks, that's what America thought to himself as he flashed his ID badge to the soldier standing guard to the morgue. And not just any morgue but one that held dead personified countries. And with a war that just left three, powerful countries in a brain dead state? Well...
You could imagine what happened inside.
America walked briskly down the well lit and sterile hall, the heel of his polished shoes clicking against the shiny white tiles. He was giddy as he glanced at the rooms he passed, numbers seared into his memory from past visits. He halted at a door, if just for a moment, room 933.
"Not today, old friend" he hummed, continuing down the hall knowing he wasn't far from Him.
America was practically giggling with excitement as he reached the room he was so desperate to reach, 945. He hurriedly took out a slip of paper with the needed code to open the door and punched in the needed numbers. Hearing the sharp click as the door opened nearly made his day. As America stepped in and shut the door, he admired the half-covered body laying on the cold metal table that was in the center of the room. He let out a soft whistle as he let his eyes scan the pale white chest of the man in front of him. The way his defined biceps were left uncovered by the white blanket and how small burns were on the side of the face America could see. America's face started feeling warm and started to tug at his shirt collar. Quickly, America glanced at the door and made sure it was closed before frantically tugging off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the first few buttons to his shirt, loosening his tie. Once that was done, he took four big strides toward the only other body in the room and stared down at it. He could feel himself getting hard looking at the almost porcelain white face, half of it burned away from the radioactive blast of an atomic bomb. America laughed to himself as he looked at the literal two-faced country and how well it suited him.
The Japanese empire, half beauty and half disgusting.
But what made America hard was knowing He had caused that irreversible damage. He was the reason half the Asian county's face was just burned flesh clinging to a skull. And that was only some of the damage! There was much, much more under the white sheet, he knew it. And so carefully, and while maintaining eye contact with the empty socket, he pulled off the sheet.
And America smiled with pure fucking glee.
There laid Japan, fully nude, and the effects of war plastered on his pale body. The cuts and burns were such an arousing contrast to the nation's pale completion that America was licking his lips at the sight. He practically moaned at seeing Japan's legs. Or lack of, to be more realistic. Where there should have been legs was just a bloody mess, burn marks snaking up Japan's thighs like flames and muscle and bone peeking out from where the leg from the knee down had been blown off. Bits of charred flesh hung loosely off the shredded leg and some blood had gathered at the stumps.
"God," America breathed, "You look so beautiful like this, broken and ruined"
He softly dragged his fingertips over the leg, feeling the cold, surprisingly soft skin and taking a closer look at the slight marbling effect on the skin. America continued trailing his fingers on the body, slowly reaching the hand and lacing his fingers with japans. The fingers were stiff and hard to move, an audible crack could be heard from each finger as America moved them. America stroked the top of Japan's hand with his thumb, any sexual thoughts about the man pushed aside for the moment to think of the past, and the events leading up to the present.
