Hetalia kink meme ([personal profile] hetalia_kink) wrote2011-02-26 02:04 pm

Hetalia Kink meme part 11 -- CLOSED

axis powers
hetalia kink meme
part 11


New fills for this part go HERE.
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Let's get this party started!

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 01:44 pm (UTC)(link)
USxUK, with England trying to get America drunk.

It works.

Salt and Lime 1/1

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 04:18 pm (UTC)(link)
He’d tried nearly everything. Beer, it didn’t work (thought that was probably because it was the nasty watered down stuff America called “beer”); hell he’d even tried real beer, but that hadn’t worked either. There was wine, again this didn’t work and he felt like that frog attempting to seduce someone when he gave the younger nation wine. Vodka, it hadn’t worked either, though this he was most reluctant in giving his former colony (seeing how it made England himself rather violent). Whiskey, well America had taken a sip and said it was too nasty and had just gone back to his watered down beer. He’d tried nearly everything and nearly every single brand… yet it wielded no results. It was impossible to get America drunk. That was until he’d discovered tequila.

“It’s fun.” the older nation had said as they sat at a bar after yet another meeting.

America sniffed the gold tinted liquid then scrunched his nose up turning his head away, “It smells horrible.” He took a sip, “And tastes nasty!”

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong you idiot.” He failed to mention that he’d messed up when trying to do shots the first time and times after that until America’s older sister Mexico had taught him how to do it the proper way. “Lick the back of your hand, sprinkle the salt on the back of your hand lick it, throw back the shot then bite the lime.” England then demonstrated this.

America looked hesitant but tried it anyway. He quickly shook his head from side to side, “Whoa!” was all he said and looked at his former guardian beaming, “That was… can I do it again?”

“Go ahead.”

Quite a few shots later for America (and none more for the other nation) he was drunk completely and thoroughly drunk. England was wearing a huge grin, for the first time he’d finally won.


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Re: Salt and Lime 1/1

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Re: Salt and Lime 1/1

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Re: Let's get this party started!

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-13 01:57 (UTC) - Expand

OP here

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-14 05:16 (UTC) - Expand

Punch Drunk Love(1/?)

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Punch Drunk Love(1.5/?)

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Re: Punch Drunk Love(1.5/?)

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Re: Punch Drunk Love(1.5/?)

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Re: Punch Drunk Love(1.5/?)

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The OP here...

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Punch Drunk Love (2/?)

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Re: Punch Drunk Love (2/?)

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Re: Punch Drunk Love (2/?)

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Re: Punch Drunk Love (2/?)

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America and his faithful steed

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 02:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Cowboy!America, with a beloved horse. I want to see him fawning over the horsey, being concerned about its health, and them working together out on the range.

And then a Nation who badly wants to ride cowboy!America/cowboy!America to ride himself being irritated by being ignored in favor of the horse. I'd particularly love Canada or Australia here, but am open to anything! Russia, England, France, or even Spain! (who taught America to ride, in my headcanon)

To show I'm not just requesting, I will mention the two latest fills I'm working on, not much but it does, at least, exist: "Bad Boy" and "Company with Wolves"

Faithful? Sorta.

(Anonymous) 2010-03-07 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
[Texas!Horseowner!Anon wants to apologize for the weak ending. She didn't want to make you wait any longer... but admittedly she couldn't get a good ending if she tried. USUK, but with Spain tossed in there. I wish I could have made it longer! I'm sorry! Oh, and, by the way, my horse Loco makes a cameo in this story. Silly boy.]

“Loco, another day of work ain't gonna kill you,” Alfred's horse, a lean bay gelding, may have been the laziest thing on four legs, but he got the job done, alright. Well, once he was out of his stall and actually on those four legs. “Loco!” The horse opened a sleepy eye, and he could have sworn he was glaring right at him. He was up, being led out to be groomed. Hooves cleaned, he had his water and quick breakfast, the cinch was tightened around his belly, Alfred beginning the briefing to his horse.

Twenty five steers were to be driven from Waco, all the way west to El Paso, at the request of some big-wig rancher. At least they were being paid well. Loco yawned at this. “Shoot,” His owner leaned on him, “I'll buy you a nice little filly if you work real hard.” Loco was glaring again. “Well yeah, you ain't got nothin' to work with, but they're still pretty to look at.” A heavy snort was the response. “Ah, right, you want a colt. You always did take after me.” The horse seemed pleased at the prospect of some male equine eye candy and nodded. And with that, Alfred F. Jones swung onto the little gelding's back (he was a short one, alright, a mutt pony bred for just this sort of thing) and loped off to town.

Arthur and Antonio both waited by the pen outside town, the former pretending to be occupied with counting and recounting the cattle while Antonio welcomed him. “Are you ready for the trip? It'll be a long one,” He laughed.

“Tell me 'bout it,” Alfred answered, stilling Loco as he touched noses with Arthur's horse. Percival let out a loud squeal when Loco nibbled him, stamping the ground viciously.

Alfred grinned. “Your horse takes after you, Arthur.”

“As does yours.” Loco, at that moment, was sniffing a steer's rump through the fence.

“Loco!” The gelding stood at attention, hitting his head on the rail in the process. “We should be off now, right?” America smiled and Spain kicked open the gate.

“Arriba! Let's get going!” And together they left.


The day had started off late but had been long anyway. The night had drawn on and on, Arthur laying awake for the most part, Alfred and Antonio sleeping like bears. The British gentleman was the first to wake up to make breakfast (which Antonio cried over and Alfred ate with no problem) and begin re-counting the cattle. When he returned, he seemed distant, especially when speaking to Alfred.

Their relationship had always been... special. They had grown up as best friends, Arthur always a little older, and finally, as adults, it had become strained. Arthur bit his nails methodically as Alfred finished his food.

“Alfred,” He said softly. Antonio left to get the wagon. “Alfred, I... I need you to know. I...”


“I...” He said something after that sounded suspiciously like 'ride' and 'me'. Speaking of which.

“You're right! I gotta go ride Loco and warm him up! Thanks!”

Arthur watched the love of his life go and begin to tack up his horse, with a long, drawn out sigh finding its way out of him. God damn that horse.

Re: Faithful? Sorta.

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-08 00:31 (UTC) - Expand

OP here!

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-10 11:28 (UTC) - Expand

Norway x Iceland x Denmark

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 03:03 pm (UTC)(link)
(Toooootttally failed requesting this the first time. OTL)

Something based off of this (NSFW) image: http://i45.tinypic.com/qycpau.jpg

Bondage, ballgags, and a seriously helpless Denmark.


Looks more like NorwayxDenmarkxIceland

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Is that what OP wants(Denmark bottom)? or does OP want Iceland to bottom?

Anyway, seconding.

Re: Looks more like NorwayxDenmarkxIceland

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Re: Looks more like NorwayxDenmarkxIceland

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Re: Norway x Iceland x Denmark

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The first time

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 03:14 pm (UTC)(link)
So Romano is still a virgin and Spain wants it to stay that way because he was given instructions from Grandpa Rome, not to hurt his grandchildren. Now Romano's mad at Spain for not having sex with him, so he goes off to get f**ked(by any nation). Instead of having nice, sweet sex though, it's like bondage-rape. Spain goes off looking for Romano and when he finds him, he's devastated. Spain decides to have sex with Romano so that he won't do anything like that again.

Please have it be angst/romance with fluff at the end. Smut is fine.

My Cherry Tomato 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-03-10 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Romano and Spain were joined in a fiery kiss, tongues battling for dominance, with small moans filling the air. This was just the way Spain liked it, when he could have his feisty boyfriend all to himself for a few hours. Sure, Romano never said things like 'I love you' or 'you're beautiful'...in fact, if one were to listen in on a conversation of theirs, one would get the idea that Romano hated Spain. Spain knew better.

Their relationship was perfect; except for one small detail...

"C'mon, just fuck me already!!" Romano growled, attempting to move on to the next step, trying to rip open Spain's shirt or something. Spain tried to distract him with the kissing, catching his hands. He felt more than heard Romano's swearing against his mouth, before Romano jerked away, glaring at him.

"I said fuck me, you bastard!!" He growled, turning red more with anger than anything else. This scenario had been happening a lot lately, and Spain answered the same way he always did.

"You're so cute Lovi...but I can't. I promised, remember?" Cue leaning in and trying to kiss him again. Cue slap from enraged virgin.

"Who cares what that old bastard said!! Come on, Spain!!" As always, Spain continued to refuse, and Romano eventually stormed out angrily, cursing in his own language angrily enough to make Spain flinch.

He sat by himself, thinking this over. He wanted to ask someone for advice on how to placate his angry boyfriend...but who could he ask? Prussia was never any help in these matters...and France wouldn't be able to get over the mouth-watering idea of a virgin practically trying to beat someone into having sex with them. Besides, it would be better if France didn't know Romano was a virgin, for obvious reasons.

...of course, if Spain had known where Romano had left to, he would've realized that that secret wouldn't need keeping much longer...

(Is anon doing this right? it's her first fill...

hmm... Captcha says: weepy problems. Yes indeed, captcha, yes indeed...)

Re: My Cherry Tomato 1/?

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Re: My Cherry Tomato 1/?

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-11 02:18 (UTC) - Expand

Re: My Cherry Tomato 1/?

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-11 02:31 (UTC) - Expand

OP here

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Re: OP here

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My Cherry Tomato 2/?

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My Cherry Tomato 2b/?

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(no subject)

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Re: My Cherry Tomato 2b/?

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Re: My Cherry Tomato 2b/?

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OP again

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-15 03:37 (UTC) - Expand

My Cherry Tomato 3/?

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Re: My Cherry Tomato 3/?

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Re: My Cherry Tomato 3/?

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Re: My Cherry Tomato 3/?

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Really Depressing AU (aka glad it's anon up in here)

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 03:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Human AU: Berwald, Timo, and Peter are a cute little alternative family made complete with their puppy Hana-Tamago. This is until something bad happens to Peter.

And by something bad some kind of accident or like serious illnes (anon an decide). I want the kind of strain something like this has on a family and parents.

- You make me cry
- Not so happy ending

Stages (1/3)

(Anonymous) 2010-03-26 07:08 am (UTC)(link)
First-time writer!anon is not either of the ones above, but couldn't resist filling this.


Tino is on his lunch break with Arthur, one of his co-workers, when he gets the phone call. The two were swapping parenting tips, since Arthur has two little ones and raising Peter would teach anyone a thing or two about parenting. Tino is all smiles when he excuses himself to answer the call, because Berwald is either busy working or watching Peter this time of day and isn’t able to call Tino that often.

“Hello? No, I’m on lunch right now-”

Still eating his chips, Arthur watches with curiosity as Tino suddenly freezes and starts to speak rapidly in another language, face draining of color. The blond is then quiet for a while, standing unnaturally still. Finally, he says something so softly that Arthur can barely read his lips for the lack of movement. Immediately, he dials a new number and is speaking rapidly again, this time in English. Arthur starts taking his tray to the trash bin, successfully overhearing the last bit of Tino’s conversation.

“-my son, sir. Can I just call in later? I have to go now, sir and- what? Thank you, Berwald and I appreciate that.”

He sounds calm and not all of the cheer is gone from his voice. So, when the call is over and Tino bolts out of the cafeteria, Arthur is startled, but pushes it to the back of his mind since he only has a few more minutes left on break anyway.


When Berwald finds him half an hour later, and Tino is sitting on the hood of his car in the hospital parking lot and smoking a cigarette. The taller man frowns and wrinkles his nose as Tino puffs out perfect smoke rings. Berwald has no clue what to say and finally settles on. “Ya said ya quit.”

Tino offers bitter smile. “Given the circumstances I think I’m allowed. How’s Peter?”

“Still not ‘wake. M’stupid for not watchin’ him better.”

Berwald turns away to look up at the hospital, as if he can see into the room where their son is and an overwhelming part of Tino wants to yell that it is all Berwald’s fault. That if he had just been holding Peter’s hand none of this would have happened; they would all be home eating dinner and laughing as Hana-Tamago begged for scraps, instead of in a hospital parking lot while Peter is hooked up to all kinds of awful things and unable to wake up.

But Berwald has already been crying today and his shoulders are staring to shake again. Tino swallows his rage and puts out his smoke, going to wrap his arms around the other man. He presses a kiss to Berwald’s cheek and tells him that it’s not his fault and everything will be okay, knowing that the Swede doesn’t believe a word of it.

Stages (2/3)

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Stages (3/3)

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Re: Stages (3/3)

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Re: Stages (3/3)

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author!anon here

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Re: author!anon here

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Next (1/?)

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Re: Next (1/?)

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Re: Next (1/?)

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(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 04:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Kink meme, I am desperately in the mood for man-chest fondling.
Characters/Pairing up to the writer, but I want the works - rough groping, nipple tweaking, teasing, name calling and an underlying humiliation kink as the cherry on top.

Super Bonus for the events taking place in a semi-public place and a sense of indecency.

Moobs: Russia/Korea PT [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-03-14 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
Korea huffed and scratched the hands at his chest vainly. His cheeks were red and his black hair matted against his forehead but a small smile stayed solid on his face. Ok, so the position was reversed but he didn’t have a problem with it. Russia’s grin grew with every intake of breathe from the Korean and he tweaked the naked nipples harder, eliciting another moan from his prey. Ivan’s gloved hands stroked the buds roughly and twirled them between his index finger and thumb.

“R-Russia…” Yong groaned, eyebrows knitted fondly.

Ivan leaned down and blew into the Korean’s ear before letting his fingers spiral out and grope the man’s chest completely. “I hope you aren’t about to complain, Soo.”

No, of course he wasn’t. He didn’t want the Russian to stop at all. Despite his distrust for the man...

Those large hands gripped the pale chest again, this time much harder, the leather of the gloves grazing the pink flesh savagely. To his right, Yong could hear the sounds of life in the streets of Seoul raging. Laughter and voices drafted into the semi-dark alleyway as Korea pressed even further against the cold, concrete wall.

Russia’s pink tongue darted out and licked the shell of the Korean’s ear while his hands stroked the now red bosom softly. Yong moaned at this, thrusting his chest out to get more friction. His chest buzzed with pain, enticing the Asian, and his smile fell a little.

“You like being touched like this, da?” Russia chuckled darkly, sliding one finger in each hand up and down roughly, hypothetically carving a deep, thick line through the man’s nipples. “Your buds are so red! Like your face!” Ivan laughed almost soundlessly alone, as Korea squirmed and whimpered at the sensation. The heat pooled down further south but Russia pretended not to notice. “Little Soo loves it rough.”

“Gah!” Korea gasped as Ivan pressed down on the peaks, rolling them with his thumbs and circling around the breasts with his middle finger.

“Mmm, I like that sound,” Ivan kissed the Korean’s ear, then his neck, all the way down to his collarbone. Yong placed his shaky hands in Russia’s and pressed the palms to his bust, leading the much thicker hands up to his neck then down to his ribs before placing them back to his chest and squeezing them. Ivan took the hint and clasped the Korean’s breasts harshly.

“You’re so sweet, Yong” Russia kissed the man and traced his fingers around the heated bosom. “Have you wanted to make Yao feel like this?”

Moobs: Russia/Korea PT [2/2]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-14 04:48 (UTC) - Expand

Not Op...

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Re: Moobs: Russia/Korea PT [2/2]

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Re: Moobs: Russia/Korea PT [2/2]

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Re: Moobs: Russia/Korea PT [2/2]

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sugar deprived

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 04:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Finland is all gloomy and moody. Why? He's on diet.

The lack of sweets is making him feel depressed.

So, a nation decides to bake him a cake.

They end up having hot sex on the kitchen table, with Finland topping please =D

(screened comment)

Icining on top (late writer!anon is late D:)

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-17 16:30 (UTC) - Expand

icing on the cake II

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-17 17:03 (UTC) - Expand

Gimme a Push!

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
In the middle of a rainy, dreary, night, and after he'd just fallen asleep after 48 hours of nonstop workaholicnesss, an extremely drunk Russia appears on America's doorstep pleading for a push. America slams the door in his face. Then a short time later he's still worrying that someone might actually agree to help Russia and that people might get hurt if he ends up on the roads in his current condition. He heads off in search only to find Russia in a nearby park sitting on the swings moping about how no one likes him enough to give him a push...

Lots of humor, snarky banter & UST (or more if you so choose) are a must pretty please!

Gimme a Push! 1/5

(Anonymous) 2010-04-10 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
Um, hi. I'm a different anon than before. But I'm here with a fill. I hope it's OK.


America was awakened to the sound of rain lashing his window and the shrill doorbell assaulting his eardrums.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Lifting his head off the table – while that godforsaken doorbell was still ringing – a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He ripped it off and got up from his chair. He had been working for what must have been two days straight, and just when he had finally fallen into some much-needed sleep, somebody had to come calling. Figures.

America ambled to the door; the bell was still sounding off. Whoever was calling him must be very desperate, or very cruel. He had been working on something important before he fell asleep. His thoughts were still consumed by it as he flicked on the porch light and turned the doorknob. There was a very crucial, detailed report he had to write for his country's Senators regarding the recent nuclear arms treaty between himself and Russia –

– And speak of the devil.

He opened the door and there stood Russia, in all his (overgrown, socialist, probably drunken) glory. The taller nation teetered a little on the spot – yep, if he wasn't drunk already, he was definitely getting there, which was somewhat frightening since Russia was a freakin' tank – not like he was intimidated, though, not in the least. He said his (slurred) greeting and America could faintly detect the smell of vodka through the damp air. He raised an eyebrow.

“What is it, Russia?” Really, it had better have been something important. If this was just some drunken late-night joke, then in his half-awake state he might as well say 'to hell' with the treaty and replace his missiles in Turkey, just to piss him off.

Russia leaned against his door frame. “America . . . -hic- you will give me a push, da?” he said, giggling slightly even as the rain came down in sheets over his head.

Re: Gimme a Push! 2/5

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Re: Gimme a Push! 3/5

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Re: Gimme a Push! 4/5

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Re: Gimme a Push! 5/5

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Re: Gimme a Push! 5/5

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Re: Gimme a Push! 5/5

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(Anonymous) - 2010-04-10 13:58 (UTC) - Expand

writer!anon here.

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-10 15:35 (UTC) - Expand

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 05:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Worn out and frazzled, England loses control when America lays into him in a meeting, and starts to cry. America is totally horrified and decides to try to make it up to him, but will England be able to move past the shame of losing his cool in public like that in order to get to the US/UK lovin'...? Meanwhile, France and the others are furious with America for going too far.

You’re Awful, I Love You [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-03-07 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
I had to try this, even with my massive waiting list. England is my favourite character of all time, but I don't ever write him. That said, I hope he doesn't come off as OOC.

America had been the one to initiate the kiss, but England had been the one who had confessed first. That had been about two weeks ago. Now sitting in the meeting, Arthur wondered if everything on his side had just been good acting, just another American classic, because here they were right back at the beginning. They were fighting again.

The first time they had fought since getting together, Arthur had thought it was because Alfred just didn’t know how to act around him when the other countries were around. He was strong, but now this was too much. This hurt. Now America knew how he felt. Now the cruelties seemed harsher, like his feelings were even more of a weakness ready and waiting to be exploited.

“-that’s why you suck and I’m better.” It wasn’t even about the ideas anymore. Alfred was making it personal.

England lowered his gaze and didn’t bother to respond. You can all just sod off. If Germany thought there was a pause in the argument, he’d jump in and try to stop it per usual. But the room was silent. Too silent.

From across the room there came a quiet, “England?” And beside him there was an even quieter call of his name. He knew the first voice better than any one else, he was sure. They had spent centuries together, but this was rare, France seemed almost concerned. (The other voice was simply forgotten.)

Looking up, England noticed all the nations around the table were watching him. (Except for Greece, who was asleep. Lucky bastard.)

Shocked by the sudden stares, no one had ever paid so much attention to his and America’s fights before, England let out a quiet “What?” only to have his voice break half way through. Oh bollocks.


Standing up suddenly, hand reaching for his face to wipe off the traitor tears he knew had appeared without permission, England murmured a request to be excused and didn’t wait for a reply before rushing out to go sulk without an audience.

Re: You’re Awful, I Love You [1/?]

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Re: You’re Awful, I Love You [1/?]

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Re: You’re Awful, I Love You [1/?]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-08 11:12 (UTC) - Expand

this is not the op you're looking for~

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-09 00:31 (UTC) - Expand

You’re Awful, I Love You [2/?]

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You’re Awful, I Love You [3/?]

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YAY For Update!

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Re: You’re Awful, I Love You [3/?]

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Re: You’re Awful, I Love You [3/?]

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Re: You’re Awful, I Love You [3/?]

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Steadfast Tin Soldier

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm sure almost everyone has heard of this fairytale, right? Please, I want to see the story hetali-ed. Any pairing is fine, just no DenSu, PruCan or RoChu.

Bonus: The ballerina is male.


Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-03-13 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
(( I hope I did this right. My first fill. x.o Reader beware: suckiness is afoot!

Also, I just filled this. I didn't comment on the request, so whoever commented that they would fill it; I hope I don't steal your thunder. Though I doubt my writing was good enough to do so, I'm sorry if I did! ;-;

I also don't understand Hungary's new fascination with idiot curls. ))

Hungary frowned at the other little soldiers in the little box. Prussia was there (why such cruel punishment?) as well as Sweden (she wasn't certain as to why he was there), America (consistently claiming he would heroically save them all), England (who was informing America that was unlikely), another America (who kept telling everyone he was Canada), Veneziano (squeaking whenever that odd curl of his touched anything), France (frantically trying to get in everyone’s pants), and Finland (who Sweden was vainly scooting towards). They were all average soldiers, wielding little swords, standing on two feet, flat-chested.

In contrast, there was Hungary, threateningly holding a shorter sword that wound up pretty round, looking more like her favored weapon of a frying pan. Of course, she also only had one leg and bosoms that were probably a bit disproportionately large, causing her to look a bit more like Ukraine than herself. A homely version of 'Happy Birthday' was sung and the box promptly ripped open, all of the soldiers spilling out.

Sweden and Finland landed in a fairly adult position. Finland was alarmed, but the other man appeared to have no intention of getting off. Prussia, to her delight, was uncomfortably standing on his head. Everyone else, her included, was on their side, back, or belly, which appeared to suit them. "COOL!" something squeaked, and before she knew it everyone was being put in a ragged line.

"Don't touch me there!" she squawked, thrashing vainly about until she was placed on the edge of the line next to Veneziano. She frowned. Better than Prussia, but he was babbling away. What had Germany said, that one time? 'If you touch this part, he gets really quiet?' Something like that.

Assuming 'this part' was that strange curl (as Germany was straight... right?) Hungary lashed out some, grabbed it, and stood on her single foot with her teeth gritted, telling Veneziano to "Just be quiet!" To her surprise, the young man did just that, though he was a bit wobbly-kneed... but wasn't he always? She shook her head. She probably would have told anyone else to shut the hell up. No matter. Hungary looked about. A plastic troll with fluffy pink hair, some stout stuffed animals, and... that.

Her eyes went wide and she released her hold on Veneziano-- did he just cry out a little bit?--- Hungary's mind was occupied; she didn't care. A paper ballerina, standing on one leg. Just like her. Someone came up and prodded her arm a little.

"They're gone."
"America--" "Canada! I-I'm sorry. I'm Canada," he said.

Ah. That would explain the odd curly thing. "Hey, does yours work like Veneziano's...?" she asked, trying to keep him from feeling the apparent loneliness Canada usually felt. So she poked it.

Or tried to, anyway. "Yes. Yes it does," Canada said, smartly taking a step back. The America that was actually America was yelling for his brother to come over and with a wave, Canada ran over to him.

Right. Back to staring. There was a little spangle on the sash. The sequin glittered beautifully, and she saw the little ballerina take flight, carried by a breeze. She hopped eagerly to the approximated location it would land. After it completed a complex pirouette, the ballerina came to rest again and she hopped the several centimeters until she was both fairly close and far enough away to be chastely decent. "I-I'm Hungary," she said in a slightly soft voice. "Austria." She was about to kiss his left cheek, as customary, and Austria was about to kiss her right cheek, as customary for him. And they wound up kissing each other on the lips outright. Hungary probably would have flushed red if she could.

Austria didn’t move—but why? She frowned internally. It was she who broke it with a mumbled apology and prompt hobbling away.

She didn’t look back, but if she had she would have seen a mournful-looking ballerina staring straight back at her.

OP here

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-13 12:48 (UTC) - Expand

author!anon says...

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-13 17:11 (UTC) - Expand

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire [2/?]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-13 17:23 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire [2/?]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-14 19:17 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire [2/?]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-15 02:54 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 05:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Sweden comes in Germany's office for some business that possibly end in desk sex
Bonus if they keep most of their clothing/uniforms on

Re: Sweden/Germany

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 06:06 pm (UTC)(link)

Seconded so, so much!

Re: Sweden/Germany

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-06 07:51 (UTC) - Expand

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
North/South Italy - Pitted against each other in WWII (Fascist vs. Partisan fighting was quite ugly), it winds up culminating in sex that's both hate and lust-fueled, with their shared desire for their people to be free.

Anon thinks Feli would have especially been struggling, as there were resistance fighters in the North that wanted their country free, yet the Salo fascist puppet state was there as well (and Anon could see him in a Stockholm Syndrome thing with Germany, definitely not a cute or fluffy time for them).

(Anonymous) 2010-03-07 04:12 pm (UTC)(link)

(no subject)

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-08 19:13 (UTC) - Expand

US, CAN, & Brotherly Love

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
England criticizes Canada sharply for the patriotism showed by his citizens during the 2010 Games. (See a recent editorial in the Times Online for inspiration). America doesn't take it well.

What I want is to see America defending Canada, much to the shock of the critical nation, and Canada not being all weepy-eyed and "OMG!!! AMERICA NOTICED ME!! MY LIFE IS COMPLETE!" Because that's not the way we roll up her in the Great White North. ;D

Some good, old-fashioned platonic brotherly love is what I'm looking for, the kind that says, "I can pick on him, but nobody else can."

Make it as WAFF as you wish, anons!
(screened comment)

Apology For Patriotism? 1/2

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Re: Apology For Patriotism? 2/3[2]

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Re: Apology For Patriotism? 2/3[2]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-09 00:59 (UTC) - Expand

^ And by "2/3[2]", I meant "3/3"

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-09 01:01 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) - 2010-03-09 17:17 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) - 2010-03-09 21:07 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Apology For Patriotism? 2/3[2]

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-11 14:38 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Apology For Patriotism? 2/3[2]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-05 04:37 (UTC) - Expand

Anyone for a Bit of Fry and Laurie?

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 06:37 pm (UTC)(link)
It was a series with tons of awesome skits, with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie. And I couldn't help but notice that some of them were just asking to be Hetaliafied.

Especially this one.
In which Veneziano is convinced that Romano sleeps with... certain people;)

Re: Anyone for a Bit of Fry and Laurie?

(Anonymous) 2010-03-29 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
LOL. Seconded. I would love to see a skit Hetaliafied since I love me some Fry.

Daddy's little girl (fem!Canada + England)

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
AUs are ok. No incest please. Whether Canada is a little girl or a teenager or a grown up lady is up to authoranon.

Bonus 1: Fem!Canada's name is Mathilde
Bonus 2: America being jealous and acting like a brat

Daddy's Princess 1/1

(Anonymous) 2010-03-06 04:37 am (UTC)(link)
Mathilde sat in bed, surrounded by all of her pink lacy sheets, incased pillows, stuffed unicorns, and dolls. The walls of the room were painted pink and there were shelves covered in fairytale books, and special edition Barbie dolls wearing long gowns and crowns. She sat anxiously waiting for her father to come and tuck her in, her twin brother Alfred (who was a couple of minutes younger than her) was currently the one being tucked in the room over. Their father rotated nights between the two of them, and tonight was her night to be put to bed first. She heard her brother sat good night and their father turn off his light before he walked into her room through the open door.

Instantly the little girl perked up, “Daddy!” she said cheerfully as he greeted her with a smile sitting on the side of her bed, “Oh what story are you going to tell me tonight.” Mathilde was a daddy’s girl through and through. Every night she requested he tell her a fairytale of some sort as he braided her hair, he was part of the reason why she obsessed with having the most girly things imaginable in her bedroom, all because since as long as she could remember he’d told her those fairytales. Some nights his stories would be his own other nights they’d be something traditional he’d memorized years ago. It made her feel like she’d bonded to him more than her brother Alfred; he was tucked into alien and spaceship bed sheets every night and insisted that he’d out grown story time.

“That all depends my dear Princess.” He said pulling out her brush and ribbons from the night stand drawer underneath her unicorn lamp, “What would you like to hear.” He sectioned of one half of her hair and brushed it softly.

The girl thought for a second, “How about the The Princess and the Pea?” the girl suggested. She hadn’t heard it in a while.

“Alright then.” He began to braid as he began the story, “Once upon a time in a kingdom across the sea there lived a king and queen. This king and queen like all kings and queens had a son for a prince who desperately wanted to get married. There were many young women who wanted to marry the prince but for some reason there was always something wrong with them.” He tied the braid off with one of her ribbons then went onto the other side continuing on with the story, “One stormy night there was a knocking at the castle gate, a lovely young woman had come and asked for a place to sleep for the night. The king and queen looked at one another when the girl claimed to be a princess and decided to test the girl and see if she were worthy to marry their son. They prepared a bed for her made of 20 mattresses, and under the bottom one a single pea was placed there. The next morning the princess arrived at breakfast looking extremely tired.” He finished with the braiding, “her hosts questioned her and questioned her what had been the matter, finally she told the that something was in her bed that made sleeping the previous night very difficult. This made the king and queen rejoice, for they’d finally found a bride for their son! Only a princess would have skin so sensitive to feel a pea under all that bedding. And the prince and princess were married and lived happily ever after.”

The little girl smiled as her father tucked the sheets and blankets in tight around her, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He turned off her unicorn lamp and went to leave the room. “Wait,” she said quietly. Her father stopped and looked at her, “If I’m your princess, does that mean one day I’ll marry a charming prince?”

The man smiled, “I insist the only man who’ll ever have a chance of marrying you, will be the most handsome and charming prince imaginable. Now go to sleep my dear.” With that he closed the door and Mathilde rolled over and fell asleep, her stuffed unicorn in her arms.

Author's Note for Daddy's Princess 1/1

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-06 04:44 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) - 2010-03-06 08:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: OP

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-11 20:02 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Modern!day, doing it in Germany's basement.

Yeah, I don't know either.

Ach Mein Gosh! [1a/4]

(Anonymous) 2010-04-24 04:23 am (UTC)(link)

H-hello, this is anon's first time writing Hetalia....god I hope I do this right >>


Prussia let his eyes wander around the room as he leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs. Gott, this was boring…well, everything had become boring after his official dissolution, forcing him to move in with Germany. West’s house was too clean, too proper, and far too easy to make a mess of—something the Prussian was quite adept at. Of course, Ludwig would always give an exasperated sigh, and maybe rub his temples if Gilbert had done something particularly reckless and destructive. And Gilbert would snicker, fix his red eyes on his brother and offer some snarky remark, prompting Ludwig to hand him a mop and bucket.

Today was no different in Germany’s house--Ludwig had forced his bruder to attend a “brief” meeting with England. Clearly, Gilbert didn’t intend to do much talking…or any listening, for that matter. In fact, Germany had to raise his voice more than once to rouse his brother from outer space. Really, what the point of him being here? He had no interest in today’s politics or other affairs, unless it involved land redistribution east of the Elbe…

But no, he had to sit here for two and a half fucking hours while West and England yammered on about some sort of economic policy. Once or twice, Germany had tried to convey the importance of the state of the economy to his brother. Yet Prussia had responded by throwing his arm around Germany’s shoulder with a howl of laughter: “Fuck West, why are you so dependant to the damn economy? When I was in my youth, I depended on no one but myself! I made allies with whoever I needed at the time! Realpolitik is the way to go, yeah!”

And Germany would shake his head, give an exasperated sigh, and maybe rub his temples as he usually responded to Gilbert’s antics, who couldn’t deny that it hurt just a little bit inside whenever his brother brushed off his actions as products of recklessness and boredom. That was true, but Prussia’s hunger for attention, for the spotlight back when he had Fritz and even Bismarck was hard for him to ignore. Well, not technically hard, as Gilbert had quite a strong will—he simply chose to give in to his own forgotten desires, hopelessly chasing the fading shadow of his past. The world had forgotten Prussia, the mighty Prussia, the vicious Empire that, like a summer squall, grew quickly and violently, only to collapse instead of declining gracefully from militarism as the others did….but damn, it had been one hell of a ride!

Prussia was snapped out of his daydreaming as Germany’s desk phone began to ring, abruptly halting Igiko mid-sentence.

“Ah…excuse me, Fräulein Kirkland..”

As soon as Ludwig picked up his phone, screams erupted from the receiver before he had a chance to ask who was calling.

“Veeeeee! Germany! Germanyyyy! Come saaaavvveee me! Please come and save me Germany!! GERRRMANYYYY!”

“Calm down! What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Italien?” Ludwig put one elbow on his desk, rubbing his temple with left hand. Gilbert had to smile at this—at least it wasn’t just him that caused West’s trademark exasperated quirks.

“I-it’s Svezia! I played with a cute doggy that I thought was lost, but it’s Svezia’s dog! Waaaaaa Germany! Svezia is scary! Really scary!! I can’t even understand what he’s saying--!! H-H-HELP MEEEE!!”

“Schweden…?” Ludwig sighed, obviously irritated but used to this routine, which made Gilbert smile a little more. “Just remain calm. Don’t do anything too stupid, Italien! I’ll be there to get you shortly.”

Ludwig stood up as he scolded the Italian, and hung the receiver up, turning to his brother and his much more attentive guest.

Ach Mein Gosh! [1b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:26 (UTC) - Expand

Ach Mein Gosh! [2/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:30 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ach Mein Gosh! [2b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:31 (UTC) - Expand

Ach Mein Gosh! [3a/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:36 (UTC) - Expand

Ach Mein Gosh! [3b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:37 (UTC) - Expand

Ach Mein Gosh! [4a/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:39 (UTC) - Expand

Ach Mein Gosh! [4b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:41 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ach Mein Gosh! [4b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 04:44 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ach Mein Gosh! [4b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-24 21:29 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ach Mein Gosh! [4b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-25 07:22 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ach Mein Gosh! [4b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-26 14:18 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ach Mein Gosh! [4b/4]

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-02 15:50 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
I want the nations to have a dance contest!

Judges: Switzerland, Prussia, North Italy

Competitors: Everyone else

Dances: Both singles and couples... It would be really fun to see both! Especially if England and France danced together because I don't see that ending well (ever).

Bonus: America and Spain face off in the finals and Spain accuses him of stealing his dance moves. xD


(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 07:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Bondage with America/Belarus, please!

Anon!writer can decide which character gets tied up, just please no non-con or dub-con.

Re: America/Belarus

(Anonymous) 2010-03-12 11:14 am (UTC)(link)
My, my this pairing is getting pretty popular. Does OP mind an artfill?

Late OP is late!

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-18 16:19 (UTC) - Expand

Ireland and Leprechauns

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Because St. Patrick's Day is just around the corner. I want Ireland and those tricky capricious magical leprechauns. Anything goes.

Bonus: Lots of green, a pot of gold, magic

Bonus #2: Ireland's haircurl is a four-leaf clover.

Bonus #3: England being out-drunk by Ireland.

Re: Ireland and Leprechauns

(Anonymous) 2010-03-06 06:11 am (UTC)(link)


lets not forget how big St.Patty's day in in the US :D

and the Rainbow myth!!! Dont forget the Rainbow myth!!!!!! also bonus 2 is now my headcannon thank you anon

Re: Ireland and Leprechauns

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-11 16:18 (UTC) - Expand

OP here

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-13 03:42 (UTC) - Expand

Birth of Argentina

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Spain/Romano, dark teen mpreg with historical tones mixed in. I've seen quite the requests and fics where Romano is the "mother" of Argentina, though he would have had to have been rather young to give birth to him in the way that the mpreg fics usually want. It might sound contradictory, but having history mixed in would be interesting! (labor/body pains=the struggles and invasions?). And some in-story reasoning as to why Romano would be stricken with the pregnancy, aside from the Italian immigrants explanation. YES to smut.

Re: Birth of Argentina

(Anonymous) 2010-03-06 02:14 pm (UTC)(link)
It just came to me how accurate this is :D! since Argentina is the one South America country with the most italian inmigrants population.

... and the way they speak: argentinan accent is like spanish said in an italian way XD.

Re: Birth of Argentina

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-14 01:35 (UTC) - Expand

Germany/Italy, nice doggy!

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Basically Germany makes Italy act like a dog, mostly because it turns him on. He saw it in one of those magazines he likes to read. x3 Italy goes along with it. Other kinks can come into play too, like water sports or whatever else you can think of!

Good Dog (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2010-03-11 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
Sorry this is so short, but I just had to do this. I hope someone else does this fill justice!


Germany knows it's wrong, even as he watches Italy get to his knees. He should attribute the feeling in his stomach to disgust, but even he knows it's lust. Italy's bright eyes are level with his knee and he's on all fours without any of the nervous twitches Germany is feeling.

“Germany?” Italy asks. Then he realizes his mistake. He leans in instead and nuzzles Germany's leg.

Germany should pull back, should tell Italy he was just kidding, should lie and say the DVDs weren't his. He doesn't, instead he leans forward and takes up the leash laying across Italy's back and hooks it into the collar around Italy's neck. It's striped with Red, Black, and Gold and Germany feels his pants tighten as it pulls taunt when he lifts the leash.

Italy makes a low noise in his throat, not a usual one, but rather his approximation of a canine one. Germany steps back, tugs on the leash and watches Italy crawl forward toward him, eyes lifting to meet his. Italy's eyes have always sparkled with an almost canine enthusiasm, but just now they are also full of lust.

Germany's hand drops onto Italy's head, almost without his consent. Italy's hair is soft and he lifts his head to nuzzle Germany's hand. Then his tongue flicks out and licks Germany's hand. Germany lets out a gasp and tugs the leash slightly, pulling Italy against him.

“Good dog.”

Re: Good Dog (1/1)

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-13 15:50 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Good Dog (1/1)

(Anonymous) - 2010-04-11 15:11 (UTC) - Expand

So gappy together

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
We have all seen requests for Russia being comforted after the collapse of the Soviet Union. This is one of them, but this one is like no other. Because this one has Leningrad Cowboys and the Red Army choir. Let's see Russia being healed by the Power of Rock!

The year is 1994.
Russia is picking up the little pieces of himself.
Prussia's honeymoon with "West" is over.
Finland is deep in an economic depression.

The Finnish rock band Leningrad Cowboys and the former Red Army choir (now known as the Alexandrov Ensemble) perform together in Berlin.

I want a fic about this, with Prussia, Russia, and Finland. It's up to anon how the nations are involved. Maybe they're just there listening. Maybe they organised the event. Maybe Russia and Finland are playing. But OP would like to see some silliness and some :) and some Prussian awesome.

Bonus 1: This: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3l48_EGNdY
Bonus 2: Our heroes sing "Happy Together" absolutely drunken, and, even if only for that one moment, they actually are.
Bonus 3: Before Berlin, they played in Helsinki (trufax). So Russia brags about how the Red Army finally got around to taking Helsinki. Finland just smiles.

OP has a birthday soon. *puppylook*

Re: So gappy together

(Anonymous) 2010-03-06 11:26 am (UTC)(link)
Ooooh my god, Leningrad Cowboys! 8DDD YES PLEASE. Actually, why don't I fill it myself? Oh right, lots of other fills to fill... I'll try though!

For All Our Lives

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-06 15:37 (UTC) - Expand

OP here...

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-06 17:49 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) - 2010-03-07 04:39 (UTC) - Expand

Re: For All Our Lives

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-07 01:21 (UTC) - Expand

Re: For All Our Lives

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-07 04:40 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Gilbert wants to bed a certain aristocrat, but knows he'll never do it with out some help. He goes to see Antonio to get some of his world-renowned Spanish Fly. He slips some onto Roderich's tea and voila- a very compliant, very willing, and very SLUTTY aristocrat and Roderich does everything Gilbert could ever want. I'm looking for cock-worship, master-slave, a little light bondage and BDSM, and anything else anon can think of. I want maximum sluttiness, Slutty!Austria is this anon's biggest kink!

BONUS! Roderich tires Gilbert out.

Re: Aphrodisiacs

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Every word of this request is fabulous.

Seconded. <3

Re: Aphrodisiacs

(Anonymous) - 2010-03-08 02:42 (UTC) - Expand

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
ireland being gang raped by leprechauns

Not so Lucky Charms 1/?

(Anonymous) 2010-05-17 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
England always got irritated when Alfred called him a drunkard, but to Ireland it was an amusing stereotype. He put whiskey in his coffee and whiskey in his tea and whiskey in his salad, but he was rarely ever shitfaced.

This time in particular was one of those rare dates. He'd been visiting the Netherlands and spotted a group of rather lovely girls heading into a club near the edge of the city. He followed and of course there was that one drink he had to try.

Two shots of absinthe later and the Irishman was out the door.

"Oi saw ya, ya bloody bastards!" he roared, chasing after the little green hallucinations. "Oi saw you! Oi knew you were real! Destination Truth might've said you didn't exist, but Oi knew! Oi-"

He tripped over a tree root and went rolling heals over head until he stopped near the edge of a small forest. "Conchobar mac Nessa," Ireland hissed, clutching his head. "Oh, please, Lord, make the werld stuhp spinning, aye?"

The grass was wet with dew beneath him and the sky shimmered with stars. They were beautiful to look at, but Finn had different things to pay attention to. For instance, the little hands that were suddenly playing grabby-nabby on his arse. "Bink!" Ireland spat, turning to kick out at his assailant only to find himself pinned by the hips. His pelvis painfully ground against the soil.

"Arrgh!" Finn cried, "The bloody fuck you think yer doin', aye!? Ge' off me!"

His assailant remained firm and even began to pat his pockets. And not for his money.

Finn grunted, pushing himself up onto his hands and glancing over his shoulder. He saw a faint green glow. And erupted in fury. "BLOODY LEPRECHAUNS!" he roared.

Just then, however, another pair of hands grabbed him by the elbows and pulled forward, causing his jaw to smack against the ground. He grunted, face scrunching in pain as he felt blood escape his tongue. His emerald eyes opened, peering up at the creature that had so quickly taken his arms.

A leprechaun stared back, dressed in all green with fair skin and red eyes. There were sharp teeth in its smile and as the creature adjusted its hat (a faintly glowing cap), Ireland saw that its eyes withheld a sin so powerful it made him want to weep for St. Patrick.

That sin was lust.

Re: Not so Lucky Charms 1/?

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-19 03:53 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Not so Lucky Charms 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2010-05-19 05:56 (UTC) - Expand

Not OP but...

(Anonymous) - 2010-06-06 04:43 (UTC) - Expand

america, tickling

(Anonymous) 2010-03-05 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Character: America

Kink: (non-consensual) tickling

bondage optional, I don't care who does the tickling or if it's sexual or not

Fight for it (1/1)

(Anonymous) 2010-03-06 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
“C’mon bro, you’re such a wimp, hit me!”

“Um, okay, I’ll try…” Canada nearly squeaked as he gave a half-hearted jab at America’s arm.

“How was that?”

“Man, I think you just broke the Brooklyn Bridge.”


“NO!” America snapped back at his brother. He normally had fun practicing wrestling with Canada, but sometimes it felt like a real chore. If only his brother was a little more aggressive…and he thought hanging out with Cuba would’ve made the guy a little manlier.

“Canada, are you even trying? You know I could have you in a headlock begging for mercy right now, don’t you?” America asked impatiently as he punched his brother in the shoulders a couple times to try and get a reaction of him, but he ended up just waddling backwards.

“I am trying, but…I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling that fighting spirit.” Canada tried to explain as he held his fists up weakly. America rolled his eyes and charged towards him, locking him in a tight grip. Canada emitted a shrill gasp, for he could hardly breathe within his brother’s hold.

“M-M-Mercy!” He shrieked desperately as he wiggled around wildly.

“Un-uh. You gotta fight for it, man. Do something! Anything at all!” He ordered as he squeezed tighter around Canada’s small and slender frame.

Gasping for air, Canada tried to think of something, but his oxygen supply was dropping by the second. Sure, America wouldn’t kill him, but he would hold him until he turned purple and nearly passed out, which was worse that just getting a couple punches. Every moment he took to think made his face darker and darker; he’d have no choice but to go to dirty tactics. He tried kicking his foot back, but his brother’s groin was not in kicking range. With one last bit of strength, he managed to get his arms free and shoved his fingers under his brother’s armpits, wiggling them in different directions.

“Hey…! That’s n-hehehe- not fair…! Hehehehahaha…” America’s grip grew weaker as his brother continued to tickle him. Before long, Canada was free of his hold and spun around to keeping tickling in that same spot. America couldn’t stop giggling and found himself unable to say anything. He fell to the floor, helpless and unable to stop laughing.

“Hahahaha…AAH! That’s eno-Ah! Hahahaha….Quit!” America managed to gasp for air a couple times. It seemed like good fun for the first ten seconds, but tickling turns torturous very quickly. Canada didn’t appear to notice (or care for) the subtle cries for help in his laughing. He was already saddled on his waist, and when America managed to swat his brother’s arms away from his underarms, Canada just moved to different spots, such as his neck, hips, or even behind his knee.

“HaHAha…Ah! St-st-HAhahaha…heh…heh…heh….Stoppit! I can’t-OH! AhahaHAhaha...breathe!” America yelled as he felt his own face get as red as his brother’s was right before he started attacking him like this. He spasmed in agony, tossing and jolting in all directions. He was practically panting for air when he wasn’t laughing. Canada was too busy looking at his brother’s funny expressions to think about stopping, even thought it had been about, oh let’s say, 45 seconds?

“Off…Off…” America groaned as his threw his head back from the extreme stimulation of his nerves.

“C’mon, dude. Fight for it.” Canada echoed America’s words from earlier in a playful yet sadistic reprise.

“I…said…Get…OFF!!!” He boomed as he finally managed to knee Canada in the groin, which bumped him off of his brother and onto the floor. America finally took a large sigh of relief as he just relaxed in his spot, taking deep breathes to restore his oxygen supply. As his chest heaved up and down, his brother picked himself up from the floor, still a little woozy from the groin attack, and looked down at his exhausted brother.

“How was that? Better?”

“You cheat! That’s the cheapest move I’ve ever seen!”

“Hey, it worked didn’t it?

some anon

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Re: Fight for it (1/1)

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Re: Fight for it (1/1)

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At my mercy (1/?)

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At my mercy (2/?)

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At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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Re: At my mercy (3/?)

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