Correction, My Biotch! ReaderXAmerica One-Shot

"What a smartass..." You thought as your American boyfriend sat on the couch, eating hamburgers, and playing video games. There were video game cases, bowls that used to be filled with ice cream, and hamburger wrappers everywhere. Not to mention many more junkfood wrappers. You sighed. Ever since America was reminded of his "I'LL DO WHAT I WANT BIOTCH!" scene/line/phrase is his show, Hetalia...well, he did exactly that.

You were sick of it. He hasn't told you that phrase/line yet but if he ever did...oh boy was he in for it. God knows exactly what you would do to Alfred if he even dared to call you a biotch or even tell you that he does whatever he wants. Hell no. He WILL listen to you.

You decided to sit next to him as he played his video game, Final Fantasy. It was rare for him to play this game. He usually played his war games like Call of Duty or Medal of Honor. And you hated both of them. It kept him WAY to occupied. Well, at least he didn't play any of the games like Japan played with the tentacles in it...

"America...honey..." You started off. You really were sick of this. It was unhealthy for him. He had already done this for a week straight. Way more then he ever has done this before. You didn't even know whether or not he had slept at all the whole time. "Maybe you should take a break?" You suggested to him.

America then paused his game, put his controller down, and faced you. "I'LL DO WHAT I WANT BIOTCH!" He yelled at you. Oh no, he said it. He finally said it. You shook your head as you looked down and smirked. Oh boy was he in for it now. A world of pain.

You grabbed his ear and pinched it, bringing him to stand up with you. "Correction, you fat loveable American! You are MY BIOTCH! So you do what I WANT!" You yelled at him. America cowered in fear. He had never seen you so scary looking before. He never knew that you were capable of such anger.

"Y-y-yes ma'am!" He whined. You let go his ear. You knew that was what he was begging for. You had one good iron grip. Hopefully you left a mark. He deserved it. The little sexy brat.

"You better be scared! Never call me that again!" You sat down and crossed your arms, pouting. You hated to have to do that to him. You really didn't like hurting your loveable American Boy. It hurt you to hurt him, but what has to be done was done.

You then started laughing as you thought about it. That was actually pretty damn funny. You turned his own joke around on him. Not to mention that it was kinda unexpected for him. You sighed and wiped a tear from laughing too hard. This was just another reason why America loved you.

Now...were you his biotch or was he yours?